Miracles, Fear, & Grace
It happens in a second or so.
Up ahead, I see a man starting to slip on a patch of ice. The weather's warmed and the man's sneakers can't get any traction on the wet, slick surface. His feet slip and slip, frantically trying to find some grip or friction.
His body keels forward, head, shoulders, torso destined for the hard ground. He is making those uncontrolled sounds, "Ohh. Oh. Ohh," his voice deep and scared.
Then, the miracle: his extended hands grasp the side of a building. He steadies himself, stands.
I exhale, realizing I'd held my breath. I imagine he did, too.
Then, a second miracle: Well, the man declares to another man nearby, that's my performance for today, folks. I'll be back again next week. Same time, same place. Don't forget to tip your waiters.
And I am captive to his grace. For it's a kind of grace to take our fear and reshape it into something delightful for the world.