To understand miracles we must be willing to take a risk, to think in a new way, to follow our passion and pursue answers to our questions. This month Meb's comments about finding inspiration at San Francisco's Exploratorium challenge us to envision something new and out of the box. As a life long Trekkie, Joan was right there with her "to boldly go where no man had gone before..." and Katie knows firsthand how demanding it can be to reconcile miracles and science. 
 
        As Diane Ackerman said, "I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well." This month consider taking on a new challenge and let us know how it goes.

Joan, Katie and Meb 

          It's been a rush of a three months and it's my turn again to say something miraculous for the Miracle Chase newsletter. I've worked through this summer at breakneck speed and I am truly grateful for an unexpected gift of time today. Right now, I am sitting outside the Exploratorium in San Francisco on a work field trip, enjoying this breezy, sunny day in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The Exploratorium is an "eye-opening, playful place to explore how the world works." It's full of creative, thought-provoking exhibits, experiences, tools, and projects that ignite curiosity, encourage exploration and and lead to profound learning.  For me, it's also a great place for a little R&R.
                    
          All around me, friends, lovers, parents and children play, laugh and explore the mysteries of how and why things are the way they are; together, they expand their relationships and their minds. I feel blessed to be here and to be alive, right now at this time. One of my co-workers walks by and we comment about what it was like to grow up with the Exploratorium. Many exhibits have changed and the whole place has grown along with all we have learned about science, art, culture and people. We marvel at the new space, now located on a Pier 15 next to the San Francisco Bay. I marvel at the gifts of time, talent and treasure that made this experience possible. 
 

         The last time I was at the Exploratorium, it was located across town at the site of the Panama-Pacific International Exposition/World's Fair held in 1914-15, one hundred years ago. (The Fair was held to celebrate the completion of the Panama Canal, an idea whose time had finally come.) Our family had become very involved in supporting the Blind Babies Foundation and I started to help them fund-raise, calling the little group I formed the Fun Development Committee. Our first major event was called, "Touch the Stars!" - an evening inside the Exploratorium that was closed to the public and opened up just for the family and friends of the blind and visually impaired children being served by the Blind Babies Foundation. What a wonderful time it was, to be able to "see" everything one wanted to see, taking as much time as little hands could handle, to learn about how things worked without worrying about long lines or impatient staff or parents. We even invited a blind astronaut to join us and sign autographs - a man whose job was to listen for life on other planets. Roaming around that night, getting excited about all the new experiences and being able to follow curiosity wherever it led, made anything seem possible!

         I wonder: What makes something seem possible or conversely too overwhelming to try?

          Those who envisioned the Exploratorium, this homage to curiosity and science, certainly must have met with challenges along the path to make this new facility happen. Each exhibit is underpinned by mostly unknown or unheralded scientists who followed their own passions and questions, leaving behind some nexus of learning that found its way here. Thinking back about how it felt to take each day one by one as we raised our totally blind little girl, we met challenges in some similar ways. What sometimes seemed insurmountable could be broken down into smaller steps and with luck, determination and love, we found our way.

          This past Saturday, Liz and I were in Santa Cruz at another event hosted by SPIN (Special Parents Information Network) to honor the teachers, community members and parents who support their work. I was reminded again of just how miraculous Liz's recovery truly is - My heart expands when I see her in front of the crowd of well-wishers as she helps my friend, Cece, pull the winning raffle tickets from the hat, joking that there should be no question as to her integrity since she can't possibly see the numbers on the tickets.
                       

         Things seem to be pretty "perfectly imperfect" these days, to steal a phrase from Lee Woodruff, author of a great book by that name. To me, to be able to say that with some contentment is nothing short of miraculous. I treasure this time of relative "pause" and take a moment to appreciate the friends and family and angels that have walked with me and brought me here - pretty much in one piece. So my miracle this month is not a thunderbolt, hit-me-upside-the-head-hard type of one. This miracle snuck into my heart, in the space between then and now, just as a little laughing child ran by, flying past me towards what is possible. (Meb)

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