Miracle Max Quotes

Faith is not the belief that God will do what you want. It is the belief that God will do what is right.

Liar! Liar!" shrieked suddenly from the now open trap door. Miracle Max whirled. "Back, Witch--" he commanded. "I'm not a witch, I'm your wife--" she was advancing on him now, an ancient tiny fury--"and after what you've just done I don't think I want to be that any more--

Miracle Max: Have fun stormin' da castle. Valerie: Think it'll work? Miracle Max: It would take a miracle.

Woman, where are they? Has no one judged you guilty?" She answers "No one, sir." Then Jesus says, "I also don't judge you guilty. You may go now, but don't sin anymore." If you have ever wondered how God reacts when you fail, frame these words and hang them on the wall.Read them. Ponder them.Drink from them. Stand below them and let them wash over your soul. Or better still, take him with you to to your canyon of shame. Invite Christ to journey with you back to the Fremont Bridge of your world. Let Him stand beside you as you retell the events of the darkest nights of your soul. And then listen. Listen carefully. He's speaking. "I don't judge you guilty." And watch. Watch carefully. He's writing. He's leaving a message. Not in the sand, but on a cross. Not with his hand, but with his blood. His message has two words: not guilty.

Our prayers may be awkward. Our attempts may be feeble. But since the power of prayer is in the one who hears it and not the one who says it, our prayers do make a difference.

When we would say 'No way,' he would say, 'My way.' Then the ones who doubted would scramble to salvage the blessing. And the one who gave it would savor the surprise.

The stone was moved—not for Jesus—but for the women; not so Jesus could come out, but so the women could see in!

But prayer isn't asking God to do what we want. Prayer is asking God to what is right.

Funny thing- Morgenstern's folk's were named Max and Valerie and his father was a doctor.

Fear creates a form of spiritual amnesia. It dulls our miracle memory. It makes us forget what Jesus has done and how good God is.

Most times, even if giving your heart away ends in heartbreak, the risk was still worth it. Sometimes, that risk gives you little miracles. and sometimes, that risk gives you life lessons that allow you to grow and learn more about yourself.

Personally? I think there’s more going on around us than we realize. I think God uses even the bad and ugly things in this world to lead us to a good place.

Each star, numbered. Each star, named! Like every grain of sand. Every hair on his head. Every trouble that filled his day. Created. Numbered. Known.

We got to the moment when I wake up from being "mostly dead" and say: "I'll beat you both apart! I'll take you both together!", Fezzik cups my mouth with his hand, and answers his own question to Inigo as to how long it might be before Miracle Max's pill begins to take effect by stating: "I guess not very long." As soon as he delivered that line, there issued forth from Andre' one of the most monumental farts any of us had ever heard. Now I suppose you wouldn't expect a man of Andre's proportions to pass gas quietly or unobtrusively, but this particular one was truly epic, a veritable symphony of gastric distress that roared for more than several seconds and shook the very foundations of the wood and plaster set were now grabbing on to out of sheer fear. It was long enough and loud enough that every member of the crew had time to stop what they were doing and take notice. All I can say is that it was a wind that could have held up in comparison to the one Slim Pickens emitted int eh campfire scene in Mel Brooks's Blazing Saddles, widely acknowledged as the champion of all cinematic farts. Except of course, this one wasn't in the script.

Just when the womb gets too old for babies, Sarai gets pregnant. Just when the failure is too great for grace, David is pardoned. And just when the road is too dark for Mary and Mary, the angel glows and the Savior shows and the two women will never be the same. The lesson? Three words. Don’t give up.

A person can live a day without silver or gold, but coffee? No thanks.

For faith with no effort is no faith at all.

This is the loneliest point in history. The last moment of true abandonment. From here on, abandonment is nothing more than a myth. And loneliness? A choice.

She couldn't alter the past but this was her chance to change the future.

(Reaching for the Bible on the end table.) There's an answer for every occasion in here. Like a map for life.

She delighted in serving her guests a soothing cup of coffee, a slice of cake, and when the occasion called for it, a prayer of encouragement.

Beneath the hard, painful surface of her recollection were layers of healing truth. God had never left her side, not even for a moment.

A true realist, if he is not a believer, will always find in himself the strength and ability not to believe in miracles, and if a miracle stands before him as an irrefutable fact, he will sooner doubt his own senses than admit the fact.4

No wonder Chelsea’s memory had become her greatest weapon, a sword she wielded, wounding others to protect herself. For decades she had waged this war, but at what cost? Now she stood alone on the battlefield, bleeding and bruised. There were no victors in this war, and Chelsea counted herself among the casualties.

Gratitude is a mindful awareness of the benefits of life. It is the greatest of virtues. Studies have linked the emotion with a variety of positive effects. Grateful people tend to be more empathetic and forgiving of others. People who keep a gratitude journal are more likely to have a positive outlook on life. Grateful individuals demonstrate less envy, materialism, and self-centeredness. Gratitude improves self-esteem and enhances relationships, quality of sleep, and longevity.1 If it came in pill form, gratitude would be deemed the miracle cure. It’s no wonder, then, that God’s anxiety therapy includes a large, delightful dollop of gratitude.

There is no separation. There is no chasm between you and the heavens. There is no divider, no veil between you and God’s love.

prayer isn’t asking God to do what we want. Prayer is asking God to do what is right.

Prayers move God. And God moves angels.

Sometimes we do the wrong thing for the right reason. We've all been there.

The Lord is near to all who call upon Him. Psalm 145:18

All matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force…. We must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent Mind. This Mind is the matrix of all matter.” — Max Planck, 1944

You wanted to know how you’ll make it on your own?” Manny asked as the sights and sounds of the lush Jerusalem garden gave way to the sterile hospital chapel. “You’ll never know. Because you never will be.

With these words, Max Planck, the father of quantum theory, described a universal field of energy that connects everything in creation: the Divine Matrix. The Divine Matrix is our world. It is also everything in our world. It is us and all that we love, hate, create, and experience. Living in the Divine Matrix, we are as artists expressing our innermost passions, fears, dreams, and desires through the essence of a mysterious quantum canvas. But we are the canvas, as well as the images upon the canvas. We are the paints, as well as the brushes. In the Divine Matrix, we are the container within which all things exist, the bridge between the creations of our inner and outer worlds, and the mirror that shows us what we have created.

Why did God leave us one tale after another of wounded lives being restored? So we could be grateful for the past? So we could look back with amazement at what Jesus did? No. No. No. A thousand times no. The purpose of these stories is not to tell us what Jesus did. Their purpose is to tell us what Jesus does.

God the Father To recognize God as Lord is to acknowledge that he is sovereign and supreme in the universe. To accept him as Saviour is to accept his gift of salvation offered on the cross. To regard him as father is to go a step further. Ideally a father is one in your life who provides and protects. That is exactly what God has done.

As you know, there was a famous quarrel between Max Planck and Einstein, in which Einstein claimed that, on paper, the human mind was capable of inventing mathematical models of reality. In this he generalized his own experience because that is what he did. Einstein conceived his theories more or less completely on paper, and experimental developments in physics proved that his models explained phenomena very well. So Einstein says that the fact that a model constructed by the human mind in an introverted situation fits with outer facts is just a miracle and must be taken as such. Planck does not agree, but thinks that we conceive a model which we check by experiment, after which we revise our model, so that there is a kind of dialectic friction between experiment and model by which we slowly arrive at an explanatory fact compounded of the two. Plato-Aristotle in a new form! But both have forgotten something- the unconscious. We know something more than those two men, namely that when Einstein makes a new model of reality he is helped by his unconscious, without which he would not have arrived at his theories...But what role DOES the unconscious play?...either the unconscious knows about other realities, or what we call the unconscious is a part of the same thing as outer reality, for we do not know how the unconscious is linked with matter.

Meanwhile, a crowd was starting to form around my bed, patients and employees alike, and I wasn’t sure I liked the feel of that either. “Is this what it’s really like?” I asked all of them. “Just a crowd of strangers watching intently as you go through some of the most horrendous pain of your life?” Several of them nodded and laughed. “For about twelve hours,” one of them shouted. “Wow. What a horrifying miracle.” Melody’s

Mathematically speaking, the probable (that in 6,000,000,000 throws with a regular six-sided die the die will come up proximately 1 ,000,000,000 times) and the improbable (that in six throws with the same die the one will come approximately up six times) are not different in kind, but only in frequency, whereby the more frequent appears a priori more probable. But the occasional occurrence of the improbable does not imply the intervention of a higher power, something in the nature of a miracle, as the layman is so ready to assume. The term "probability" includes improbability at the extreme limits of probability, and when the improbable does occur this is no cause for surprise, bewilderment or mystification. Cf. Ernst Mally's Probability and Law, Hans Reichenbach The theory Probability, Whitehead and Russell's Principia Mathematica, von Mises' Probability, Statistics and Truth

She sorted through the clothes. “Do you mind wearing Emilio’s underwear?” She turned back to him with the two different styles that she’d found. “You’re about the same size. And they’re clean. They were wrapped in a paper package, like from a laundry service.” Max gave her a look, because along with the very nice, very expensive pair of black silk boxers she’d pilfered from Emilio, she’d also borrowed one of his thongs. “What?” Gina said. It was definitely a man-thong. It had all that extra room for various non-female body parts. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m not,” she said, trying to play it as serious. “One, it’s been a while, maybe your tastes have changed. And two, these might actually be more comfortable, considering the placement of your bandage and—” He took the boxers from her. “Apparently I was wrong.” She turned away and started sorting through the pairs of pants and Bermuda shorts she’d grabbed, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that she was watching him out of the corner of her eye. To make sure he didn’t fall over. Right. After he got the boxers on, he took off the bathrobe and . . . Okay, he definitely wasn’t as skinny as he’d been after his lengthy stint in the hospital. Emilio’s pants probably weren’t going to fit him, after all. Although, there was one pair that looked like they’d be nice and loose . . . There they were. The Kelly green Bermuda shorts. Max gave her another one of those you’ve-got-to-be-kidding glances as he put the bathrobe over the back of another chair. “Do I really look as if I’ve ever worn shorts that color in my entire life?” She tried not to smile. “I honestly don’t think you have much choice.” She let herself look at him. “You know, you could just go with the boxers. At least until your pants dry. You know what would really work with that, though? A bowtie.” She turned, as if to go back to the closet. “I’m sure Emilio has a tux. Judging from his other clothes, it’s probably polyester and chartreuse, but maybe the bowtie is—” “Gina.” Max stopped her before she reached the door. He motioned for her to come back. She held out the green shorts, but instead of taking them, he took her arm, pulled her close. “I love you,” Max said, as if he were dispatching some terrible, dire news that somehow still managed to amuse him at least a little. Gina had been hoping that he’d say it, praying even, but the fact that he’d managed to smile, even just a bit while he did, was a miracle. And then, before her heart even had a chance to start beating again, he kissed her. And oh, she was also beyond ready for that particular marvel, for the sweet softness of his mouth, for the solidness of his arms around her. There was more of him to hold her since he’d regained his fighting weight—and that was amazing, too. She skimmed her hands across the muscular smoothness of his back, his shoulders, as his kiss changed from tender to heated. And, God. That was a miracle, too. Except she couldn’t help but wonder about those words, wrenched from him, as if it cost him his soul to speak them aloud. Why tell her this right now? Yes, she’d been waiting for years for him to say that he loved her, but . . . Max laughed his surprise. “No. Why do you . . .?” He figured it out himself. “No, no, Gina, just . . . I should’ve said it before. I should have said it years ago, but I really should have said it, you know, instead of hi.” He laughed again, clearly disgusted with himself. “God, I’m an idiot. I mean, hi? I should have walked in and said, ‘Gina, I need you. I love you, don’t ever leave me again.’” She stared at him. It was probably a good thing that he hadn’t said that at the time, because she might’ve fainted. It was obvious that he wanted her to say something, but she was completely speechless.

I don’t deny that it was more than a coincidence which made things turn out as they did, it was a whole train of coincidences. But what has providence to do with it? I don’t need any mystical explanation for the occurrence of the improbable; mathematics explains it adequately, as far as I’m concerned. Mathematically speaking, the probable (that in 6,000,000,000 throws with a regular six-sided die the one will come up approximately 1,000,000,000 times) and the improbable (that in six throws with the same die the one will come up six times) are not different in kind, but only in frequency, whereby the more frequent appears a priori more probable. But the occasional occurrence of the improbable does not imply the intervention of a higher power, something in the nature of a miracle, as the layman is so ready to assume. The term probability includes improbability at the extreme limits of probability, and when the improbable does occur this is no cause for surprise, bewilderment or mystification.

The Manifestation Manifesto Meditation” "Right now, I find a quiet and comfortable space where I can easily concentrate on these words as I gently read them aloud. "With the sound of my voice I soothe my nervous system … calm my entire body and relax my thoughts. I speak slowly … with a gentle but resonant tone. And as I do, I start to relax now. "I keep my eyes open and let them blink naturally when they want to … and they might start to feel slightly heavy and droopy … as they would feel when I read a book before going to sleep. “I use my imagination so that with every word I become more relaxed and drowsier. (Imagine feeling drowsy.). I keep my eyes open just enough to take in the following words. "I turn my attention to my breathing, and use this opportunity to relax my mind and body more deeply. "As I count my exhalations backwards from five to one, I let each number represent a gradually deeper level of relaxation and heightened focus. (Draw a breath before reading each number, and count as you exhale.) "Five … I double my relaxation and increase my concentration. "Four … With every number and every breath, I relax. "Three … I count slowly as I meditate deeper … deeper still. "Two … I use my imagination to double this meditative state. "One … My body is relaxed as my mind remains focused. (Pause for five seconds and breathe normally.) "At this level of meditation, people experience different things. Some notice interesting body sensations … such as a warmth or tingling in their fingers. I might also have that experience. (Pause five seconds.) "Some people feel a floating sensation … with a dreamy quality. I may experience that. (Pause five seconds.) "Whatever sensations I experience are exactly right for me at this moment. Whether I feel something unusual now or at some other time, I let that process happen on its own as I focus on the following manifesto. “I allow my subconscious to absorb the manifesto as I read each affirmation with purpose and conviction. (Pause for five seconds.) “The power to manifest is fully mine, here and now. “I acknowledge and embrace my power to manifest. “All human beings have this power, yet I choose to use it consciously and purposefully. “From the unlimited energy of the Universe, I attract all that I need to experience joy and abundance. “I recognize and consider the consequences of all that I manifest. I take full responsibility. “With awareness and intention, I apply my power for my highest good and for the welfare of others. “All of my manifestations reflect my inner state of being. Therefore, I ever seek to grow in wisdom and to become a better person. “With relaxed confidence, I employ the powers of Thought, Emotion and Vital Energy to manifest my desires.  “I let go of beliefs and ideas that suppress or encumber me and I cultivate those which empower me. “I accept what I manifest with appreciation and satisfaction. I am thankful. “I go forth with great enthusiasm with the realization that I manifest my life and circumstances. “I am ready to take charge of my manifestations from this moment onward.” “Day by day, I grow in awareness of my power to manifest my desires with speed and accuracy.” RECOMMENDED READING * Mastering Manifestation: A Practical System for Rapidly Creating Your Dream Reality - Adam James * Banned Manifestation Secrets - Richard Dotts * Manifesting: The Secret behind the Law of Attraction - Alexander Janzer * The Secret Science Behind Miracles - Max Freedom Long * The Kybalion - Three Initiates

14He brought them out of their gloom and darkness and broke their chains. 15Let them give thanks to the LORD for his love and for the miracles he does

God’s pursuing you,

Father, you created all things simply with your words. One word from you and your power is evident. I am amazed by you. I need your power in my life, God. I face impossible circumstances and am desperate for a miracle. Would you show me your power in my life today? God, for those who have a small view of you, show them how mighty and enormous you actually are. Help them to find comfort in that knowledge. Thank you for sending your Son, who has made our relationship with you possible. It’s in the all-powerful name of Jesus that I pray, amen.

But there is no way we can move forward together if you’re going to hold me hostage to the past.

Dear God (if this really is you), I hate the church. I hate religion and everything about it. It seems so obvious that religion causes more problems than it solves. It manipulates and separates people with fear. The church is nothing more than a place for people to pose as someone they’re not. How can you defend all this hypocrisy?” Chelsea chuckled. “That’s from someone named Spencer, if I remember correctly.” “You’re good,” Tony said. “Dear Spencer, I don’t even try to defend hypocrisy. Now I have a question for you. Do you really think I started that? Don’t you think I’ve had my fill of worship charades, religious games, and fearmongering, as you and your friends say? You think I want this? No thank you. Yet, Spencer, I haven’t seen much compassion out of you, have I? You pride yourself in authenticity, yet behave like everyone in your own circle. You make irreligion a religion. Leave the hypocrites up to me. And from time to time, look up. Focus on me. I think you might be surprised by what you’ll find. Love, God.

good

The dark ages are obscure but they were not weird. Magicians there were, to be sure, and miracles. In the flickering firelight of the winter hearth, mead songs were sung of dragons and ring-givers, of fell deeds and famine, of portents and vengeful gods. Strange omens in the sky were thought to foretell evil times. But in a world where the fates seemed to govern by whimsy and caprice, belief in sympathetic magic, superstition and making offerings to spirits was not much more irrational than believing in paper money: trust is an expedient currency. There were charms to ward of dwarfs, water-elf disease and swarms of bees; farmers recited spells against cattle thieves and women knew of potions to make men more - or less - virile. Soothsayers, poets and those who remembered the genealogies of kings were held in high regard. The past was an immense source of wonder and inspiration, of fear and foretelling.

Belief is not some respectful salute to a divine being. Belief happens when we place our confidence in God. It is a decision to lean entirely upon the strength of a living and loving Savior.

The Higher Grounds Café is officially open for business!” she announced.

Yesterday’s Chelsea would have made both children change before leaving the house. But today’s Chelsea served her kids chocolate chip muffins and walked them to the bus stop, leaving a trail of glitter and crumbs.

Answer: Your nights are long because you carry too much fear. I’ve been watching you. Why don’t you give those fears to me? Stop trying to fix everyone (including your husband) and figure everything out. And I haven’t heard you laugh in quite a while. Lighten up. I love it when you are happy. Remember, come to me when you are weary and tired. I can help you.

Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

There was something familiar about the angelic choir, their sacred songs wafting through the night in perfect harmony; he always felt close to heaven here.

Belief happens when we place our confidence in God. It is a decision to lean entirely upon the strength of a living and loving Savior.

All matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force…. We must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent Mind. This Mind is the matrix of all matter.” — Max Planck, 1944 With these words, Max Planck, the father of quantum theory, described a universal field of energy that connects everything in creation: the Divine Matrix. The Divine Matrix is our world. It is also everything in our world. It is us and all that we love, hate, create, and experience. Living in the Divine Matrix, we are as artists expressing our innermost passions, fears, dreams, and desires through the essence of a mysterious quantum canvas. But we are the canvas, as well as the images upon the canvas. We are the paints, as well as the brushes. In the Divine Matrix, we are the container within which all things exist, the bridge between the creations of our inner and outer worlds, and the mirror that shows us what we have created.

Contingent faith is the faith of sidewalk chalk: it's beautiful when the sun shines, but washes away when the rain falls.

The blessing practice is calling us to wake up again and again to these kinds of miracles. Rabbi Max Kadushin deemed this approach “normal mysticism”—the habit of infusing daily life with a sense of the sacred, and transforming it from a succession of unremarkable acts we mindlessly perform to a series of wonders in which we delight.

There’s a profound satisfaction in finally giving up something meaningless, for no other reason than that we did it to the max and now we’re ready to move on.

Biddy Chambers did. Had she given up, no one would have criticized her. Had she walked away, no one would have thought less of her. Her God-given assignment was to partner with her husband in teaching the Bible. They met in 1908, and by 1910 they were married, living in London, and busy about their dream of starting a Bible college. They purchased a large home and made rooms available for students and missionaries on furlough. Biddy’s training was in stenography. She took careful notes of her husband’s lectures and turned them into correspondence courses. At the outbreak of World War I, he felt a call to minister to soldiers stationed in Egypt. He and Biddy and their two-and-a-half-year-old daughter moved to the Middle East, where he took a position as a chaplain. Their ministry continued. He taught, she transcribed. He lectured; she captured his messages. It was a perfect partnership. Then came the setback. Her husband’s complications from appendicitis rendered Biddy a widow. Her husband died at the age of forty-three. She buried him in Egypt and returned to London to face this question: How could she partner with her husband if her husband was gone? All dreams of a teaching ministry would need to be abandoned, right? No. Biddy chose to give God her loaves and fishes. She set about the work of turning her husband’s notes into pamphlets and mailing them to friends and acquaintances. Eventually they were compiled into a book. My Utmost for His Highest was published in 1927.5

Chapter 14: God doesn't manufacture pain, but He certainly puts it to use. ... Remember, God is in this crisis. Ask him to give you an index card-sized plan, two or three steps you can take today. ... You'd prefer a miracle for your crisis? You'd rather see the bread multiplied or the stormy sea turned glassy calm in a finger snap? God may do this. Then again, He may tell you, 'I'm with you. I can use this for good. Now lets make a plan.' Trust him to help you. God's sovereignty doesn't negate our responsibility. Just the opposite. It empowers it. When we trust God, we think more clearly and react more decisively. ... Trust and act. Trust God to do what you cannot. Obey God And do what you can.

Gods took away your wings. Of course they can give them back and call it a miracle.

Find a promise that fits your problem, and build your prayer around it. These prayers of faith touch the heart of God and activate the angels of heaven. Miracles are set into motion. Your answer may not come overnight, but it will come. And you will overcome.

He who knows only one religion knows none."—Prof. Max Muller.

The message of the miracles is the Miracle Worker himself. He wants you to know you are never alone. You are never without help, hope, or strength. You are stronger than you think because God is nearer than you might imagine. He wants you to know: I know everything about you (Ps. 139:1). I know when you sit down and when you rise up (Ps. 139:2). I’ve numbered the hairs on your head (Matt. 10:29–31). I’ve adopted you into my family (Rom. 8:15). Before you were the size of a freckle in your mother’s womb, I knew you (Jer. 1:4–5). You are my idea, and I have only good ideas (Eph. 1:11–12). You won’t live a day longer or less than I intend (Ps. 139:16). I love you as my own child (1 John 3:1). I will take care of you (Matt. 6:31–33). None of this love ’em and leave ’em stuff with me. I love you with an everlasting love (Jer. 31:3). I can’t quit thinking about you (Ps. 139:17–18). You are my treasured possession (Ex. 19:5). Let’s do great things together (Jer. 33:3). Nothing will ever separate you from my love (Rom. 8:38–39).

You make irreligion a religion. Leave the hypocrites up to me.

To others, Jesus was a miracle worker. To others, Jesus was a master teacher. To others, Jesus was the hope of Israel. But to John, he was all of these and more. To John, Jesus was a friend. You don’t abandon a friend—not even when that friend is dead. John stayed close to Jesus.

Get it right people! Tuna casserole takes cream of mushroom soup. Tuna SALAD takes mayo or Miracle Whip. And while we're at it, tuna salad has celery, NOT peas. If you HAVE to use peas, use a bag of frozen peas. Canned peas are for tuna casserole, not tuna salad.

One study found that loneliness is as dangerous to one’s health as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. It can lead to dementia or Alzheimer’s,

I presented my requests to the Lord as I had so many times before, but this time, THIS time, I needed more. And so, using Philippians 4:8–9 as a guide, I found my answer: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true…” What was true in my life at this particular moment? The blessing of all family members eating dinner together. “Whatever is noble.” The blessing of enjoying each other’s presence outside of a hospital room. “Whatever is right.” The blessing of experiencing my two sons’ daily lives. “Whatever is pure.” The blessing of all three children laughing and playing with each other. “Whatever is lovely.” The blessing of watching Rebecca sleep peacefully in her bed at night. “Whatever is admirable.” The blessing of an honorable team working tirelessly on Rebecca’s care. “If anything is excellent.” The blessing of watching a miracle unfold. “Or praiseworthy.” The blessing of worshiping a Lord who is worthy to be praised. “Think about such things.

Do you want to get . . . sober? Solvent? Educated? Better? Do you want to get in shape? Over your past? Beyond your upbringing? Do you want to get stronger, healthier, happier? Would you like to leave Bethesda in the rearview mirror? Are you ready for a new day, a new way? Are you ready to get unstuck?

Administrators of one of the largest hospitals in America cite loneliness as a major reason for overcrowded emergency rooms. Parkland Hospital of Dallas, Texas, made this startling discovery as they were looking for ways to unclog the system. They analyzed data and compiled a list of high utilizers. They identified eighty patients who went to four emergency rooms 5,139 times in a twelve-month period, costing the system more than $14 million. Once they identified the names of these repeat visitors, they commissioned teams to meet with them and determine the reason. Their conclusion? Loneliness. Poverty and food shortage were contributing factors, but the number one determinant was a sense of isolation. The ER provided attention, kindness, and care. Hence, the multiple return visits. They wanted to know that someone cares.2

You too may be called to be someone's miracle. The only way to know is to keep your heart open and to allow the universe to work and guide you toward your miraculous purpose. 16 Conversations with Max Mandy Berlin I'll never forget the miraculous New Year's Day when my beloved Max came to me—just nine days after he had died—forever shattering my agnostic tendencies and prior beliefs about death.

RALPH Edmund, the county coroner, rolled the stretcher past Max. Ralph looked like a coroner—to be more precise, a mortician. Sallow skin, tall, thin body, thin black hair, long fingers. On the other hand he never dressed like a mortician. He wore loud colors, polyester prints, and ostentatious gold jewelry. He also did not act like a mortician. Ralph was emotional, loud, uncouth as all hell. Even better, he had the charming habit of chewing tobacco and spitting the black-yellow juice wherever and whenever he saw fit. “I

I guess so,” he said. “But there is still a lot that doesn’t make sense.” “Like what?” “Like why would Sanders do it? What does Sanders gain from the murders?” “He wipes out the evidence,” Sara replied. “No cured patients, no cure.” Max shook his head. “There have to be easier ways than going through all this Gay Slasher stuff. Like your father says, the press from the Gay Slasher has strengthened the clinic. More donations, more media support—even Markey couldn’t close them down anymore.” “So

Sara tried to smile, but it never reached more than the corners of her mouth. She sensed that Michael’s past woes were not finished with him yet, that they were still potent enough to reach into the present and hurt him . . . “Mind if I join you two?” “Hello, Max,” Sara said. “Max, you know Eric Blake, don’t you?” “I believe we’ve met,” Bernstein said. “How are you, Doctor?” “Very well, thank you,” Eric replied as the beeper on his belt went off. “If you two will excuse me, I have to go.” “Emergency?

It is most comfortable to be invisible, to observe life from a distance, at one with our own intoxicating superior thoughts. But comfort and isolation are not where the surprises are. They are not where hope is. Hope tends to appear when we see that all sorts of disparate personalities can come together, no matter how different and jarring they may seem at first. Little kids think all colors or patterns of shirt go with all patterns and colors of pants, and it takes us elders a minute to see that they in fact do. Blue madras shorts can look great with a Peter Max print top, in the right hands—say, of someone who has found a visual rhythm, in patterns that play off each other without being chaotic. I’ve seen this many times. In life the fussy beautician can be beautiful beside the motorcyclist with neck tats, filling boxes with donated food for Thanksgiving dinners, or reading together on the same ratty couch at the library. Only together do we somehow keep coming through unsurvivable loss, the stress of never knowing how things will shake down, to the biggest miracle of all, that against all odds, we come through the end of the world, again and again—changed but intact (more or less).

People who keep a gratitude journal are more likely to have a positive outlook on life. Grateful individuals demonstrate less envy, materialism, and self-centeredness. Gratitude improves self-esteem and enhances relationships, quality of sleep, and longevity. If it came in pill form, gratitude would be deemed the miracle cure. It’s no wonder, then, that God’s anxiety therapy includes a large, delightful dollop of gratitude.

Max is a miracle. I don’t know why she one day decided to question the boundaries of the game in which she found herself. I didn’t program her to do that. I couldn’t have done it if I had tried. She’s a beautiful accident.