In Dark of the Earth, John Dodge speaks about his half-sister, Alice, and an incident involving a black cat that kept appearing outside his Fifth Avenue apartment.

“The appearance of the cat was troubling, but it gave me comfort. It spoke to me of wonderful things, magical things, things beyond my understanding. I’ve always wanted to believe in miracles. I didn’t need the actuality, only the possibility, and with it, the hope that life was more than just existence. The cat was like an invitation to another world, and I found myself tempted to accept.”

Are there really miracles? Or are the coincidences and synchronicities we sometimes witness merely magical interpretations—manifestations of a desire for a higher something that somehow, someway, permeates existence and holds us safe?

C. S. Lewis, in his book Miracles, wrote:

“If anything extraordinary seems to have happened, we can always say that we have been the victims of illusion. If we hold a philosophy which excludes the supernatural, this is what we always shall say. … The result of our historical enquiries thus depends on the philosophical views which we have been holding before we even began to look at the evidence.”

I have finished my nonfiction Challenges project. (The exact title is still to be determined.) It is off to my editor to review. Will he like it? I hope so. Will you like it when it’s finished? I hope so, too. Once presented to the world, will it miraculously take wing and fly? There is the possibility that it will.

All that is needed in our minds is the possibility, not the actuality, for us to act to make it happen.

Of course, a little divine intervention wouldn’t hurt. I will always leave that door open. Isn’t that the way of things?