The power of magic

My FaceBook status this morning reminds people to look for and believe in the joy and magic all around us. Which, to many, may seem a little fantastical and perhaps not based in reality. But I beg to differ.

Depending on how you define magic, it is every where. I don't mean spells and wands and turning toads into princes. What I mean is the magic of hope. And I mean the magic of love. And I mean the breath taking, heart stopping sensation that holding a new baby causes. Magic can be that weightless sensation you have when you start to fall in love and the way you feel the first time you kiss someone. But it is also the familiar scent of the man you love and the safety and warmth being in his arms brings. It isn't just a new baby but it is watching your six year old ride away without training wheels for the first time or your high school graduate cross the stage.

The only problem with this joy, this magic, is that it hides very well. It hides behind the horror of being the parent of a child, learning at school, who is suddenly gone, the victim of out of control gun violence. It is hidden in the charred remains of a plane, smoldering in Eastern Ukraine, that had been full of mothers and fathers and 100 children headed to vacations and conferences and visiting loved ones. A plane that was shot down because of petty arguments started by tyrannical people whose need for control and power trumps the basic right of just living. This magic hides in the cracks of broken hearts and is drowned out by the noise of life support machines.

But it isn't hiding from us, it isn't coyly flirting, but instead it is waiting patiently to be discovered. We have to be still, and quiet, we have to trust someone. And if we are brave enough to do that, if our defeated souls can hear the whispered voice of hope encouraging us to "try one more time" we will learn to believe in magic. And we will find joy.