Remembering miracles, a gambling man, and radical reality

Michie

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Happy Friday friends,

This newsletter is coming to you from swinging London, where we are on a family visit. It is, sadly, a long way to come, and we don’t manage it as often as we would like.

The kid was surprisingly good on the plane ride over, as it happened, which certainly made the trip a little easier for all concerned. But gone forever are the days when trans-Atlantic jet lag was something I laughed off with two large drinks and a quick nap.

When I was in my 20s, I could bounce off an overnight flight straight onto the train into town and put in a full day at the office. Now, 20 years later, I find myself up half the night, trapped in confused, waking half-dreams. By the time dawn breaks I look and feel like one of those suspected Soviet double agents to whom the CIA used to force feed LSD before going to town on them.

It’s all worth it though, of course. It is pure joy to set our daughter loose among our extended family and friends, for whom she is still something of a novelty. Indeed, that’s the best part, really.

Quite a few of our friends here still refer to her unironically as the “miracle child,” remembering the years my wife and I waited with waning hope of becoming parents.

Our daughter is, some two and a half years later, a constant joy for me — no question. But it’s true that the “miraculous” sheen has worn off her, somewhat, just through the rub of daily familiarity.

The welcome bonus of a few weeks here in London, apart from seeing people and logging some quality time in my formerly regular pub, is the reminder of exactly how providential our daughter’s arrival was, and what a gift our family is.

It’s normal, I suppose, maybe even inevitable, to sink into the kind of easy familiarity that leads to taking even the most profound blessings for granted.

But, I think, that’s one of the great helps of regularly tracking back to where you’re from, allowing those who’ve known you best and longest to help you see your life through the long lens of your own history, rather than just the immediate quotidian present.

Speaking of the quotidian present, here’s the news.


The News​

Pope Francis has revived use of the papal title Patriarch of the West, bringing it back into the formal litany of papal styles in the Vatican’s yearbook.


Continued below.
 
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