"You like tostadas, right?"
My friend Erik knew I'd say yes.
"Next time you go to the Mexican market, tell the girl at the counter you want El Milagro tostadas," he said. "You'll like those."
Erik is from Mexico and manages a successful local restaurant. He is also familia to me. So if he recommends something, I take his word for it.
So, the next time we were at Dos Hermanos Carnicería y Taqueria, I texted Erik, What were those tostadas called?
Armed with my answer, I approached the young ladies at the register.
"Excuse me, I am looking for El Milagro," I said, not translating in my head what I was asking.
They looked at each other and smiled, then one figured out what I wanted and took me to the display practically just over my shoulder.
After I grabbed a couple of packages of the crunchy fried corn tortillas, I realized what I had said to them.
"Excuse me, I am looking for the miracle."
Not the miracle brand of tostadas, just ... the miracle. They probably thought something like, aren't we all? Or, sorry, can't help you.
I wonder how many times I've gone to God and not realized I was asking for a miracle.
A miracle is something that seems to defy the laws of nature. It is, by definition, supernatural.
Is it fair to say anything I ask God for that only he can do is a miracle? I think so.
I hope I don't take for granted that we can go to him for miracles -- like healing, finances, relationships, etc.
I love these tostadas, and so does my dog. Bosch loves it when I open up the package. I'd rather have these than chips, and I'm happy until I run out of them.
Thank God he'll never run out of los milagros for us.
