When it finally and actually happened, in all its miraculousness and too-good-to-be-true-ity, it seemed so perfectly in tune with the spirit of the universe that I took it in with a kind of "of course." It was like that moment in Babette's Feast when, after all the film has taken us through, and how it's so set up to be the least likely thing in the world, the general dude returns to the little village and is served the meal he's served---and then (and this is maybe what I love absolutely most about that film) doesn't go into the kitchen, or so much as ask anybody What The Fuck. He just takes it in, in all its glory & incredibility, and appreciates it. Relishes it. Savors it.
Comes a time when it's just not right to doubt that a Sign like this means all things are possible.