Notice ordinary miracles

(10 minute read)

We sometimes reach a crossroads in our professional or personal lives where career and business tools don’t provide answers. So, we search for inspiration elsewhere. We might rely on our intuition, seek spiritual guidance, look for external signs, or look to something or someone to give us hope. But many times, we find the answer only by moving forward.

?You have to move first

The Swiss physician Paul Tournier said, 'God guides us while we are on the way, not while we are standing still.' When our path is unclear, sometimes even the smallest step forward provides unexpected guidance and answers. I once saw a simple yet profound message on a chalkboard in a guesthouse kitchen: 'Move forward or move backwards - just move!'

In the enchanting book?Oh, the Places You'll Go!?by Dr Seuss, our hero finds himself in the waiting place, where people are just waiting. But the author chides: 'No! That's not for you! Somehow, you'll escape all that waiting and staying. You'll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing.' It’s easy to become passive, waiting for something to happen, hoping something will happen, waiting for an answer. That’s when you have to tell yourself: ‘No! That’s not for you!'

Taking action is a test of our commitment to anything. The philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, ‘At the moment of commitment, the entire universe conspires to assist you.’ This means your boldness to move forward sets in motion all manner of events you may not have anticipated. You might call them chance, coincidence, or even luck. I prefer to call them rainbows and ordinary miracles.

Rainbows have always been a sign of hope for me; a promise that amid even the darkest storms, there is light on the horizon. Other times, it's not a spectacular rainbow, but an everyday occurrence that gives us hope and direction.?It might be advice from a friend, a chance encounter with a stranger, a book that arrives at the right time, or an unexpected business opportunity.

Noticing ordinary miracles

We are often waiting for something extraordinary to happen before we call it a miracle. But ordinary miracles happen all the time if we sharpen our focus and notice them. As we do, we become more grateful for what we have in the present, without anything changing at all. We stay open to the possibility that every person we meet, and every new challenge we face, takes us one step closer to our true purpose.

The answers you seek in your business may be waiting for you to move first. This is not an invitation to leap into a business venture without doing your homework or taking risks you don’t understand. But there may never be a more perfect time to take action than now.

Your personal life too deserves more than waiting. Perhaps it’s time to have faith in your vision and take the next step. Here are a few of my own stories, which I hope will encourage you to take the next step in your journey, even if it seems dark out there.

Take any step

It was late afternoon as I gazed out of my office window. People were flocking towards Cape Town Station at the end of another workday. I had an excellent job with wonderful people, but I was quietly contemplating whether it was time to move on.?We were merging with one of the top three banks in South Africa, so change was imminent. Did I want to be part of this new direction? And what was my mission for the next chapter of my life?

Earlier that day I received a mail that went something like this:

Dear Mr. Bramley, we are pleased to advise we still have places in our open program for career changers and counsellors in Bend, Oregon. You may be interested to know this is the last two-week program Dick Bolles will be offering and is on a first-come, first-served basis. Deposit the course fees into our account to secure your place.

To learn from Dick Bolles, whose books I had devoured, would be a gift. But with a new home and a young family, this was out of my reach financially.?

But sometimes in life, there is nothing else to do but take a step forward. Any step. So, I took a walk to the American Embassy. What would it take to get to Bend? And where exactly was Bend? It turned out to be a small town situated in the high desert of Oregon – about the furthest point from where I lived in South Africa.

Walking back to my office, you would have heard me sending telegram prayers. My dear friend Sylvia Foxley was a true prayer warrior and had taught me about telegram prayers. Telegrams, an early form of communication that preceded the introduction of computers and cell phones, were short, to-the-point messages. So were mine.

‘God, do you seriously want me to go to Bend? And do you perhaps have some cash in mind to pay for this?’ I only received a return telegram when I got back to my office. ‘Phone your previous employer and sell the shares you bought when you left.’ I shot back a reply; ‘Nice idea, but I bought shares for R2000; I need around R35,000 which is nowhere near what I need.’ No response. So, I sent another. ‘Also, it’s after 6 pm so their offices will be closed already…’ A short reply read; ‘Phone them anyway.’

“Hello, have I reached security?” “No, sorry,” a male voice answered. “I am in the accounts department, not sure why your call came through here at this time of night. I am just working a bit late today.” “I was looking for someone who works with the share scheme.” “I look after the share scheme,” he said. “How can I help you?”

My shares had been converted into British pounds, and their growth had been astonishing. I had sufficient cash, with change. It would be the first of many ordinary miracles.

When we screw up

I met John Webb in Bend. I have a lovely photograph of the two of us standing on top of Mount Bachelor, pointing towards the future. John was doing profound work with continuing education students in Germany and generously invited me to visit and experience this work. A few years later I accepted his kind offer.

I had a restless sleep on the flight to Germany. As I watched the lights of Frankfurt appearing through the clouds, I felt a growing sense of unease. It turned out to be well-founded. The customs official paged slowly through my passport. Then he paged through it again, this time from the back. ‘We can’t let you into Germany,’ he announced tonelessly, still staring down at my passport. ‘You don’t have a valid visa. We will book you on the flight back to South Africa this evening. You may not leave the airport, and you cannot get a visa here – you have to get one in your own country.’

‘God, I’ve screwed up. What now?’ Some calls back home assured me I could do this trip some other time, others suggested I leave while I could. I put on my headphones and listened to Barbra Streisand’s ‘Higher Ground’ CD. As I listened to her beautiful song ‘Listening with your heart, you’ll find your way…’ I knew what I needed to do.

An hour later, I boarded a Lufthansa flight to London, where I didn’t need a visa.

I landed at Heathrow Airport at dusk. Against the rumbling of the bus, I spoke to Reid, my brother-in-law, who had done some homework for me while I was in the air. ‘They don’t issue visas outside of South Africa,’ he confirmed, ‘but you can speak to Karl at the German Embassy. I suggest you give him a call now.’ ‘I’ll do that in the morning,’ I assured him. ‘It’s already after six. Surely, they’ll be closed by now?’ Karl was still there. ‘Join the queue in the morning,’ he suggested, ‘and make it there by 6 am. The queues are long. We don’t issue visas to South Africans, but you can say you spoke to me and see if they can help.’

It was a bitterly cold February morning; people clutching documents, hunched into heavy coats, scarves wrapped around their faces. ‘Please state your business.’ said an official when I finally reached the door. ‘We don’t issue visas to South Africans. You have to go back to your own country.’ ‘Karl said I should come here.’ ‘Come in.’

After challenging conversations through layers of glass and motivations written on my lap with a cheap pen, I was to come back the next day for an answer. And so, I did. And the next day, and the day after that. On the fourth day, cold and exhausted, I trudged wearily from Belgrave Square along Grosvenor Crescent toward Hyde Park Corner with tears running down my cheeks. In my hands, I had a single-entry visa for Germany. I had just experienced another ordinary miracle.

Obstacles don’t mean you’re on the wrong path

Many years later, I wanted to develop a comprehensive model to help people make better choices in their work lives. I joined a coaching programme that included a week in London.

But the year ahead had some surprises for me. Halfway through a corporate downsizing program, I woke up in excruciating pain, unable to stand up straight. After months of alternative treatments, I succumbed to a double neck fusion. Six weeks after surgery I was still struggling to formulate sentences and unable to stay awake for more than two hours at a time.

My great friend and mentor, Lidia Vosloo, invited me to stay in Greyton where I could enjoy the champagne air and beautiful walks. But my trip to London was less than three months away. The thought of a long-haul flight and demanding week was unappealing. While investigating affordable deals, a frequent flyer statement arrived with an unknown number. When the airline combined it with my regular account, they were able to offer me a one-way ticket if I was prepared to travel first class. I love how sometimes the ordinary miracles are so intensely personal. With a tired body, it was a gift of rest and comfort I will not easily forget.

I arrived on a drizzly day in London. Late that afternoon you would have found me walking along Baker Street and turning the corner into Oxford Street. The pavements were thronged with shoppers, and I was seriously questioning what I was doing there. Suddenly, I noticed people coming out of doorways holding cameras. Arched over Oxford Street was the most exquisite rainbow, reaching across the sky in a perfect bow. And I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

Connecting the dots

Steve Jobs famously said we can only connect the dots by looking backwards. America became a regular fuelling station for my inspiration and my work. Dick and Marci Bolles became dear friends, and I cherish the moments I spent in their home over the years. The tools I learned in Germany have helped thousands of people in retrenchment programs and in individual consultations to package what they have to offer the workplace. The work I did in London has underpinned my work for more than ten years. The time I spent in Greyton was a precious gift of friendship. Soon after I returned from London, Lidia was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and I delivered the eulogy at her funeral a few months later.

People and ordinary miracles

The ordinary miracles in my life have come through people who generously shared their knowledge, welcomed me into their homes, and encouraged me when the road was murky. People are waiting to help you too if you are willing to reach out. And be aware you might be the answer in someone else's story.

I don't know how challenging it is for you to move forward. The good news is you don’t have to do it all at once, nor does it have to be perfect. Maybe all you need is to move forward, one step at a time. And as you do, be sure to look out for the ordinary miracles along the way.

? Andrew Bramley. All rights reserved. 2023