I’m an avid baker of healthy treats for my teenagers.  I enjoy using the harvest bounty to create healthy and delicious fast-food options for a teenager who is unwilling to put out the effort to make breakfast.  I can throw together apple oatmeal muffins, a nice substitute for oatmeal.

            A week or so ago, my teenager was emptying the dishwasher when I heard a loud crash and the unmistakable tinkling of broken glass.  We have tile floors in our kitchen which are easy to clean and easy to break things on.  Even Corell will happily disintegrate into millions of shattered pieces on a nice ceramic tile.  I walked in asking, “What was it this time?” with a bit of a chuckle.  I’ve learned not to be too alarmed by broken glass.  I just wanted to know what we needed to replace.  Aah, my two-cup measure had been broken again.  My husband has taken to replacing it at the Goodwill or St. Vinnies since teenagers are remarkably clumsy during their growth years.  I mentioned it to my husband later that evening, but we’ve had a lot on our plates lately so he hadn’t had time to replace it

            When I set out to make my last batch of pumpkin spice muffins, I reached into my baking cupboard, realizing that I wasn’t going to find my two-cup measure.  Low and behold, I did find it.  I thought, ‘did he manage to replace it even though I hadn’t thought he could have?’  I hollered into the next room, “Hey, did you get to the St. Vinnies yet to replace my two-cup measure?”

            “No,” he admitted. “I haven’t had time yet.”  I knew he hadn’t had a chance yet.

            But there it was in front of my face!  A brand-new measuring cup.  I told him, “No worries.  The spirit world’s got you covered.”

            He struggles a bit with the idea of all the miracles which have taken place around me since my son died five years ago, but finds it rather hard to deny.  He started to suggest that maybe he had replaced it, but quickly remembered that he had, the last time it broke, but not this time.

            I looked up at the ceiling, “Thanks, Shawheen. I appreciate the new measuring cup!”

            The miracles have been less common, or at least less blatant in the last year or so, leaning into numerology. But recently as another loved one has gone through some serious health concerns; they’ve ratcheted up again.  Shawheen, my deceased son, knows that whenever a new and related stress comes up, my grief from his death exacerbates the situation, accentuating my emotions. He finds his own way to help and I’m grateful.