Living a miraculous life
a SUIT column by Chris Jungle

Okay, everything has pretty much died down from the megadeaths of Princess Diana and Mother Teresa. Everyone mourned and debated where the two stood in history's judgmental eye. We all got to talk about martyrs and prophets, and how it costs more to buy a dress worn by dead royalty than pay rent, food, and utilities for a year. I myself contemplated the possibility of beefing up my resume to get considered for sainthood. Then, I read what it takes to be a saint. You have to be Catholic and perform miracles. I came to the conclusion that the latter was much easier than the former.

Miracles have occurred throughout my life. Sometimes because of me, sometimes because of others, and sometimes for no reason at all. Let's start with the early childhood years. Apparently when I was two years old, there was a fire in my family's house while my parents were out, and a neighbor noticed the smoke and called the fire department. I was evacuated from the house before the smoke inhalation smothered my tiny body. A minor miracle, but a miracle nonetheless.

Later in life, I was playing on one of the best under-fourteen soccer teams in the city, called the Raiders. Going into the eighth game of the year, we were undefeated and had yet to even be scored on, but the time had come to play our best competition. The Kickers also carried an undefeated record and had just as cocky an attitude as we did. For most of the first half neither team could manage a solid shot on goal. Then, I suddenly broke free for a moment down the right sideline, and their best fullback took a bad angle, leaving me a clear shot to center the ball for a possible head shot by a teammate. I booted the ball, but it didn't go to the middle of the field. Instead, it sailed over the goalie's head into the net on the left side. Gooooooooooaaaaaaaal! We went on to win 2-0. The second goal came on a penalty kick due to a hand ball in the penalty box. I didn't get to take the penalty shot. That's what the coach's son was for. Anyway, my goal was probably the most angelic act I've ever done in any athletic competition and merits miracle consideration.

Flash forward to college when I took a graduate level class in political science called International Relations. The entire class was about the theory of how countries, excuse me, nation-states interacted with each other based upon the ideological beliefs they subscribed to, and I didn't believe in any of it. I thought none of the discussion had any merit, that it was a lot of pompous talking by intellectuals who were more concerned about proving their theories than actually making points that might somehow advance the human race. Even with all of my cynicism, I did most of the thousands of pages of reading, talked the talk, wrote the writing, and took the eight hour take-home final. End result: an A. If you don't think that's a miracle, you try and talk a good game about something you think is pointless and still believe you have sound morals and wits about you. Mama always said I should be a lawyer.

What's that? You don't think those events constitute miracles? I suppose you want something more like burning bushes, seas parting, dead rising, walking on water, feeding the masses with nothing but hope, calming the storms, bringing the rains, speaking to the trees, and coming up with answers to life's mysteries. Well, I've done all those things too, but I really didn't want to promote illicit drug use in the name of making miracles.

Miracles happen throughout our lives. It's a miracle that a car going fifty miles an hour only hit the front tire of my bike, throwing me into a ditch--instead of me being a little further into the road and ending my chance at further miracles. It's a miracle I made all-district band in eighth grade. It's a miracle I was alive when the Kansas City Royals won the World Series in 1985. It's a miracle I finished that 10K race without making a deal with the demons and devils who were offering short cuts along the way.

Unfortunately, I need one more huge miracle to be considered for sainthood. I'd have to convert to Catholicism. Oh well, maybe I'll settle for just being a good person who doesn't go to heaven.

Chris Jungle defines a miracle just like the dictionary does: a supernatural event: hyperbolically, a marvel, a wonder. He also admits he's trapped in hyperbole.

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