It was a simple bowl of soup. Chicken with rice, from a can. But as I sat down to eat my lunch, a sudden thought flashed through my head: What a miracle this bowl of soup is! A savory, golden broth, bright orange carrot coins, plump grains of rice, bits of chicken. Struck deeply by this realization, I simply sat for a minute watching thin wisps of steam rising from the surface. Just a bowl …showed first 75 words of 412 total…

…showed last 75 words of 412 total…in the backs of trucks and flinging loaves of bread that are snatched in mid-air by outstretched refugee hands. Their homes and lives demolished, thousands of displaced Kosovars grab for the simple food that would keep them and their children alive. A simple bowl of soup. I sat in my cozy kitchen on a pleasant, tree-lined street in Kentucky and sadly acknowledged how rarely I notice all the miracles that every day bless my life.