I Need a Miracle Every Day
          by Lunaea Weatherstone

          On the wall above my desk in my (to say the least) cluttered but colorful home
          office are three ceramic objects, silver-painted, three-dimensional, detailed. The
          first is a hand, small, square-palmed, much like my own. The second is an eye,
          startling in its realism, calmly observing the three gossiping women in the Alma-Tadema
          print beside it. Finally, a heart with a radiant sun in the center and olive leaves
          around the edge, flames rising from the top. These are overly large versions
          of milagros - miracles. Milagros are votive offerings to saints, common in Hispanic
          Catholicism. Their roots may go even deeper than that, ancient magical symbols
          whose beginnings are unknown to us, but whose power is unmistakable.

          Traditionally, milagros are tiny charms, perhaps the size of a quarter, in symbolic
          shapes that mirror the request of the petitioner. There are as many kinds of milagros
          as there are wishes for divine intercession: animals for protection of livestock and pets,
          body parts for every kind of healing, praying figures for spiritual support, fruits and
          vegetables for good harvest. Antique milagros and expensive reproductions can
          still be found in pure silver and gold, but most are cheaper metals now, although
          some are made of wood and other materials. If you are asking a saint to heal a broken
          ankle, a tiny milagro shaped like a leg and foot might be offered. If someone you
          know is recovering from a heart attack, an image of an open chest, heart exposed,
          would be appropriate.

          These offerings are attached to the saint's image in home shrines, or hung on or
          near the saint in churches. In addition to asking for a miracle, milagros are also given
          in thanks. A student who has successfully made it through final exams might offer an
          image of a book; a nursing mother may give a milagro showing breasts in gratitude
          for the abundance of her milk. A heart milagro offers thanks for love, a pair of lungs
          asks for help quitting smoking, and on and on.

          The act of finding or making and then offering these tiny images to a representation
          of a sacred protector is empowering and affirming. We are saying that we believe
          in divine help - in miracles -- and we acknowledge the source of blessings received.
          Milagros are a simple and forthright way to embody this faith. Let's take this lovely
          Catholic custom and adapt it for our use.

          The first step is to create a shrine for your "saint." Saints come in many forms, and
          I'm using the term very loosely here. Protector, inspiration, muse, deity, orisha, angel,
          guardian - the ones called upon for assistance, turned to in times of trouble, and
          exalted with praise in times of joy. You may already have saint shrines in your home,
          aside from your main altar (if you have one). Here are a few examples, to get you
          thinking of where and how you can create your own milagro shrines and begin to use them.

          Do you have a beloved teacher or ancestor, someone you revere? Someone whose
          life and work, or just her/his being, fills you with hope and comfort, inspiration and
          confidence? Begin with a photograph, and make a shrine where offerings can be
          made, and blessings asked for. Put objects that symbolize this person near the
          photograph - for example, in my Joseph Campbell shrine, there are mythological
          symbols and imagery from many traditions, copies of his books, and a candle to
          represent the fire of the mind.

          Do you have inspiring images in the place where you put the tools of your art or craft -
          your musical instrument, your paintbrushes, your computer? If not, make such a shrine
          now, so that each time you invoke your creative spirit, you can feel the presence of
          your personal saint supporting you. Who blesses your creativity? Who do you admire
          in the same field, or who in mythology or folklore symbolizes your strivings? For me, it is
          Brigid, whose image and symbols have a place of honor on my work table, and whose flame
          eternally burns. For you, it might be St. Cecilia, Georgia O'Keeffe, or even the Little Mermaid.

          In the kitchen, how about a Kitchen Madonna shrine? Ever since I read Rumer Godden's
          charming little book The Kitchen Madonna, I have had Mary in my kitchen in some form
          or another. Create a small shrine for your own kitchen saint, with a picture or statue, a dish
          of herbs or salt perhaps, a small offering of food when you prepare your own. (And yes,
          Julia Child can be your kitchen saint!)

          Notice, these are all very small shrines, not ambitious altars. If you want to elaborate on
          the basics, feel free. Work on these little shrines until you feel they are expressive of your
          feeling for your saints. Make a home for them. Invite them in.

          Now that your shrines are ready, it is time for the milagros. Because traditionally these are
          temporary gifts to the saints, replaced as circumstances change, I suggest that you begin by
          making your own on tiny slips of paper, drawing a simple image to represent your request
          or offering. Be creative! Use your sense of humor! Traditional milagros are anything but
          stuffy. For example, if you are in need of money, draw a tiny check or the pot of gold
          at the end of the rainbow. If you are lonely, draw two hands clasped in friendship. Ask for
          your writer's block to be lifted by drawing a lightbulb going on over your head. Give
          thanks for the abundance of your good cooking by drawing a pie, hot from the oven, and so on.

          Take your little drawings, and tape them or otherwise attach them to your saint's image
          in your shrine. They can also be tucked under the image (I like to actually see the milagros,
          but if you like a tidier shrine, you can even place them in a special little bowl or basket).
          Make visiting these shrines a part of your regular spiritual practice, changing the milagros
          as your needs change. Soon you will find other objects that work as milagros as well,
          and can begin to collect them to rotate on your shrines: tiny charms and traditional milagros,
          buttons, toys and game pieces, bits of ribbon, doll clothes and shoes, miniatures of various
          kinds - the list is endless. Find a special box for your milagro collection, and take them
          out to play from time to time.

          Play… it is the very heart of worshipping with milagros. We should be comfortable enough
          with our "saints" to be able to hang a Monopoly car on a silver thread around a statue of
          Artemis and not feel it is disrespectful. Hispanic Catholics often have a lovely everyday
          relationship with their church, a relationship with deity that is familial, warm and very loving.
          Respectful, always, but with a touch that is easy from long and devoted practice. We can
          learn from this, as we too make spirituality a part of our mundane existence, and yes,
          have a miracle every day.

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