All the stars were backwards and wrong when I got to church on Sunday morning.
 
Arriving at 5:00 am, I was feeling a stange, low-level dread. I didn't want to unlock the door and start the series of events that would end with me having to be glad to see people.
 
I walked slowly through the parking lot, procrastinating my way toward the building. When I paused for a moment to look at the stars, I was shocked to find everything out of place.
 
What was the Big Dipper doing on the west side of Polaris this time of year? I looked at a sky filled with unexpected stars. I saw Cygnus, Aquila, and Scorpius, but these are summer constellations.
 
In that instant I couldn't remember what month it was. For one brief moment you could have told me it was July and I would have believed you. I was that disoriented.
 
Then I remembered that just before sunrise you see the constellations about 6 months ahead of time.
 
I laughed, but the disorientation had already wrapped itself around my dread, and I began to feel a kind of heavy resistance to Sunday worship.
 
Everything felt wrong.
 
The sermon seemed askew in my mind. I felt no excitement about it. Turning on the lights made me sad and regretful, like when you come out of a movie in the afternoon. I found a list of people I meant to call the week before but didn't. They needed to have heard from me.
 
I remembered the expression I saw on a woman's face right in the middle of last week's sermon. I decided she must not like me very much.
 
I started wishing Sunday could be finished, and then I felt guilty for wishing that. “What kind of a pastor isn't excited about Sunday worship?” I asked myself.
 
The answer seemed obvious - a very bad and awful pastor.
 
I wasn't feeling hopeful about this Sunday, but then I received 5 miracles in about 15 minutes.
 
1. The first person to arrive was a woman whose big toenails are always badly bruised, yet she always wears sandals. I'm impressed because she doesn't mind showing this little unattractive part of herself. She asked how my morning was going. “Eh”, I said. She looked straight at me and then held out her arms, motioning with her fingers for me to come over. I shuffled into her embrace and received a crushing hug.
 
2. Little Anna arrived and blew me a kiss. She had scribbled on her legs with purple ink. Her mom is the kind of person who doesn't really care about that sort of thing.
 
3. “The woman who talks too much” brought doughnuts. This really isn't much of a miracle since someone brings them every week, but she looked at me and said, “Doughnuts!” in this sing-song voice that made me laugh.
 
4. I found ice-cold diet cokes in the fridge. Some of you understand the comfort in this.
 
5. Elliot arrived with Stan and Carol. He blurted out my name and ran to give me a hug. He was wearing his “Bob the Builder” shoes.
 
Five little miracles that got me thinking.
 
I went to the door and looked outside. The sun was up and the Mountain Laurels were in bloom. Several people were coming up the walk and waving to me. I could see others just arriving in their cars.
 
Suddenly I knew that everything was going to be fine. I felt myself swallow Sabbath and my gut settled down to rest.
 
And I was glad to see them, truly glad. I was glad to be there on a Sunday morning.
 
Sometimes gladness is the nicest miracle of all.
 
The Preacher

 “I was glad when they said unto me, let us go into the house of the Lord.” - Psalm 122:1