Do You Wish to Make Miracles?

It is not as distant a dream as you might imagine. A miracle does not always announce itself in the grandeur of thunder or the blaze of a comet streaking across the heavens. Often, it is quiet—like the first stirrings of dawn or the imperceptible opening of a bud. Miracles are woven into the threads of our days, awaiting only the hand that will lift them into view.

To make miracles is to move with grace through the world, to awaken the hidden beauty that sleeps within others, even within those we find difficult to love. It begins not with judgment or correction but with the willingness to see differently. To look at someone—not as they appear to you through the fog of expectation or the veil of their failings—but as they might have once appeared to the heart of God, radiant with infinite potential.

When we notice someone’s faults, it is tempting to name them, to shine a light on the places where they stumble or fall short. But what if, instead, you chose to look beyond the surface? What if you searched, not for the cracks in their facade, but for the hidden flame burning deep within—the ember of something precious, something wondrous? Perhaps it is a kindness in their eyes that no one has ever acknowledged, a quiet strength that endures without complaint, or a fragile dream they carry, unspoken and unshared.

When you find it, do not rush to correct their flaws or voice your disappointments. Let your words be a blessing instead, spoken in reverence for the light you have uncovered. Speak of this beauty to yourself first, allowing it to reshape how you see them. Then, when the moment feels right, let your words take flight—not as a critique or a suggestion, but as a gift of recognition. Say to them, I see this in you. It is beautiful, and it matters.

And watch what happens. Like a flower leaning toward the sun, they will begin to unfurl. The small, quiet part of them that has long been overlooked will come alive under the warmth of your gaze. In time, they may begin to see themselves not through the lens of their mistakes, but through the grace of your vision. This is the alchemy of love: it transforms not by force, but by presence, by the tender act of noticing.

This is the miracle we are all capable of making. To awaken in another their own forgotten brilliance. To become the midwife of their goodness. And in doing so, we are transformed as well, for in calling forth the light in another, we brighten our own inner world.

It is a truth as old as the hills: what you choose to focus on grows stronger. If you dwell on someone’s faults, they will appear larger, more immovable, more fixed in place. But if you water the seeds of their goodness, those seeds will begin to grow. You may not see the full harvest, but the green shoots will appear, fragile and determined, reaching toward the light.

Imagine what it would mean to live this way—not only with those we love, but also with strangers, with adversaries, even with ourselves. Imagine if, instead of condemning what is broken, we became relentless seekers of the hidden treasure. What healing might ripple through our relationships, through our communities, through the deep, aching places of the world?

This is not an easy path, for it requires a shift of heart—a willingness to lay down the habit of criticism and take up the practice of blessing. But in choosing this path, you step into the rhythm of grace, into the deep mystery where transformation quietly unfolds.

And so, I ask you: Do you wish to make miracles? If you do, let your heart become a sanctuary for the unseen beauty in others. Let your words be as gentle as rain falling on parched earth. Let your vision be a gift, offered without expectation, free of demand.

For the miracle is not in the act of changing another, but in the act of seeing them as they truly are—whole, luminous, and beloved. And as you learn to see in this way, the world itself will begin to change before your eyes, as if it, too, is leaning toward the light you carry.

BLESSING

A Blessing for the Maker of Miracles

May you be blessed with a gaze that sees beyond the surface,
A vision that tenderly uncovers the hidden beauty
Within those who walk this earth beside you.
May your eyes learn the quiet art of beholding,
Drawing forth the radiance that others have forgotten,
Or perhaps have never dared to believe was theirs.

May your heart be a sanctuary of grace,
A place where judgment dissolves into understanding,
Where the impulse to correct transforms
Into the desire to uplift and to honor.
May the wellspring of your compassion flow freely,
Bathing all you meet in its quiet, healing streams.

May you have the courage to resist the sharp edge of criticism,
To lay down the heavy burden of pointing out flaws,
And instead, take up the gentle mantle of blessing.
May your words become seeds of encouragement,
Sown in the fertile soil of another’s potential,
Nurturing unseen gifts into bloom.

May your silence speak as powerfully as your words,
A silence that holds space for others to unfold,
To recognize their own beauty in the mirror of your kindness.
May your presence be a calm and steady light,
Illuminating the path for those who feel lost
In the shadows of their own doubts and failings.

May you be blessed with the patience of the seasons,
Trusting the slow and sacred rhythm of growth,
Knowing that the transformation you long to see
Will emerge in its own time, in its own way.
May your faith in the goodness of others
Be steadfast, even when it feels unseen or unreturned.

May your own soul be nourished as you offer this gift,
For the act of calling forth beauty in another
Is never one-sided—it blesses the giver as much as the receiver.
May you come to know the quiet joy
Of being a maker of wonders,
A midwife to the light that sleeps in every heart.

And when your own spirit feels heavy or unsure,
May you remember the sacred work you are doing—
This work of love, this work of seeing,
This work of inviting others to believe
In the goodness that still abides within them.

May you walk this path with a sense of reverence,
Knowing that to look upon another with love
Is to participate in the divine unfolding of creation.
And as you give yourself to this holy work,
May you feel the presence of grace surrounding you,
Guiding your steps, and blessing your heart.

May your life itself become a quiet miracle,
A testament to the power of gentleness,
A light that kindles hope wherever it falls.
And may the beauty you call forth in others
Come to dwell richly in you,
Until your days are filled with the wonder
You so freely offer to the world.

I Love You,
Alma