Miracles Happen [Pray for Them]

Two nights ago, a miracle happened.

Two nights ago, I'm sure there were many miracles happening all around the world.

And one of them happened to me.

I had just given my first dance class at our beloved community center [think funky country old church] and I was standing outside talking to my [sweet, amazing, beloved] friend Billie. Among other things, we found ourselves talking about how the amazing power of prayer had touched us in our lives. Only a few minutes later, we heard the screeching of tires as an approaching car slid to a stop in the road. Two women jumped out and headed up the road, while a third parked the car in front of the Center. They all appeared quite upset.

The two women up the road stood by the ditch. One of them said, "She's here. She's dying." The driver threw her face into her hands and started sobbing. Billie ran up the road.

"Pray for her!" she shouted.

I followed Billie, stopping by the driver to give her a consoling shoulder squeeze. Then I continued on, to where Billie and the other two women sat around a young deer lying on her belly by the side of the road.

I knew the two women. One was the mother of a friend of mine growing up, and the other was someone I recognized from the community, although i didn't really know her. Chris, my friend's mother, sat cradling the deer's head in her hands, while Billie and the other woman sat on either side. My hands joined the other sets of hands on the deer's back, sending her love and healing energy.

Chris said they had run over the deer and that her legs must all be broken. We couldn't actually see them because they were folded up underneath the deer, but one hoof was sticking out at a seemingly unnatural position.

Although we were all overcome with emotion for the deer, a part of my brain recognized the blessing of sitting there with her, stroking her, loving her, letting our collective energy work to ease the suffering of this beautiful creature.

Her coat was thick and soft beneath my hands. She was breathing heavily. Her eyes were open.

I recognized the blessing of sitting there with those women, with that deer. "Little sister," someone called her. Even if we were there only as witnesses to her passing, the moment was still blessed with healing.

After awhile, we started to talk about what we should do for the deer. "Andy lives right up here, and he's a hunter," I said. "Should I go ask him to end her pain?"

For a moment, we all agreed that was the best thing to do. I got up and started walking towards Andy's driveway.

"No, wait!" Billie said. "Miracles can happen. Let's give her some more time."

Chris felt sure that the deer was suffering from her broken legs, and that we really shouldn't make her hold on any longer.

But Billie was firm. "We are powerful mamas. Let's sit here with her some more."

I sat down again. Around us, the details of the evening began to shift and blur as the light retreated from the sky. Fog settled into the low areas. The air was cold, but despite my dancing clothes, I did not feel the chill.

"Let's sing her a song," Billie suggested. No one offered up any suggestions, but then Billie looked at me and read my mind. "You should sing it," she said.

There is an Afro-Brazilian song that I love dearly. It is the song for a dance called Brikamo, which is a dance for cleansing and welcoming in the Spirits. I sang that song to my unborn children (and to my children as they were being born), I sing that song when I meditate. I've sung it to release my deepest sorrows and to rise up my greatest joys. With a voice inhibited by congested emotion, I sang Brikamo to the deer.

"Mo-i-la.
Mo-i-la, ya ya, mo-i la
Mo-i-la, ya ya, mo-i la."

I kept repeating the simple, beautiful song [although i must admit, my singing at that moment was not particularly beautiful]. At one point, the deer moaned and shuddered and stopped breathing for a moment. We all gasped and cried and thought she was passing over to the other side. But then her breathing resumed, and I tried to continue with the song.

I couldn't. So I switched to a different song.

Anthony says I sing best in other languages, and I admit that I love singing the flowing cadences of Spanish and particularly Portuguese. The next one I sang was another Afro-Brazilian song. It is to Yemanja, Goddess of the Ocean.

"Yemanja oh, a minha mai Yemanja.
Yemanja oh, a minha mai Yemanja.
Olha sua filha aqui na terra minha mai
E ven lhe ajudar."

(Iemanja oh, my mother Iemanja.
Iemanja oh, my mother Iemanja.
Look at your daughter here on the earth my mother
And come help her."

What happened next is no lapse of my memory, but the actual truth of the moment. As soon as "E ven lhe ajudar," fell from my lips, the deer shot up and away from us, disappearing into the woods.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" we gasped, hands to astonished faces, tears choking our voices. "Oh my God!"

We hugged and laughed and cried and all shared a beautiful, wonderous moment together [actually, the whole event was beautiful and wonderous.] We walked up to where the deer had disappeared, and there she was up Andy's driveway, walking on slightly wobbly legs. As we heard her mother in the woods on the other side of the road, we joyously retreated so the two could reunite.

We walked back towards our cars parked at the Center, and we found the third friend, the driver of the car, slumped on the hood with her head in her arms.

"She's alive!" We sang.

More hugs. More laughter.

What a miracle.

Suddenly the chill of the night air hit me, and I was shaking like a leaf. I was also expected home an hour ago, so after several more minutes of "Oh my God!" with Billie [and we were just talking about the power of prayer! The universe sent us a message] I headed off towards home [laughter and tears overtaking me spontaneously].

These are the days of miracle and wonder.

We just need to have faith. There is every reason to believe that the universe heeds our prayers.

Four women, one deer, faith, and a miracle.

Everything is possible.

[Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude. I love you Billie.]