I say it often, perhaps insufferably often for some people, but every day that I step out the front door in San Miguel de Allende, I expect a miracle to happen.
Oh, not a big miracle. Not always.
Just little miracles.
Like the smile on the face of a mother herding her three children toward the church.
Like the carpet of lavender jacaranda flowers worked into a patch of cobblestones.
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This cross sits to the right of my desk, on an empty chair. It is one of many crosses that we have inherited. Our home in San Miguel de Allende comes with crosses, cow skulls, pottery and milagros pegged to doors here and there.
Milagros are those little tin objects you see on the cross that look as though they might be Monopoly board pieces.
While I have always been aware of the cross — lord knows I’ve moved it around often enough — I never really paid close attention to it.
Until this morning.
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Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 