I got up early today and watched the sun break through the low clouds and make the palm fronds and grass shine. Early sunbeams, hitting the dunes turned the top fringe of sea oats golden. Then a mist rolled in and veiled everything in dampness and I could smell brine, seaweed and wet sand.
I find the ocean mesmerizing, but then I find a mountain stream mesmerizing, ditto for a lake; fall leaves moving in a breeze; a pasture buzzing with insects and summer sun; black bark in stark relief against winter snow; or my own backyard. I’m just one of those folks that likes to sit and stare. It’s a gift.
Recently I joked with a friend that I have a great ability to do nothing. She, a very busy and accomplished person, said, “Yes, you do and I want to be able to do that.” I laughed, but she didn’t.
Could it really be a gift to be able to sit and enjoy my surroundings? It feels like a gift very often. Like God creates tableaus, sets scenes in place purely for my enjoyment. But what about the days I don’t appreciate the flowers lining the sidewalk or the clouds formations above or the way the rain refreshes our tired lawn? Does God lament all the trouble he went to that no one noticed? Does God look for folks that will sit and stare at his creations?
God wanting us to notice his handiwork – doesn’t that just wow you?