I've noticed Bingley does a far, far better of this than yours truly--this ceasing and pausing to observe and study the remarkable world around him. Yeah sure, sometimes his careful observation results in sudden, loud, annoying barking, but maybe that's his way of hollering, "Wow! Check this out! Can you believe God made this amazing butterfly...or bumble bee...or dog...or Fed Ex man...or garbage truck...or tree waving in the wind...or giant stick...or____...." (just fill in the blank with whatever has captured his full attention for the moment).
What's keeping us from noticing and then thanking? Noticing not just the beauty of the world around us but noticing the people all about us. Busyness? Preoccupation? Sorrow? Overwhelming discouragement? Plain old selfishness? Hustling to the next activity? Long, relentless to-do lists?
Whatever the reason, we still have the choice whether to rush by in our hurry and worry, ignoring the beauty, missing the moment, brushing past that person--that eternal, made-in-God's image soul. Or we can pause to open our eyes, look around, gaze rather than glance, savor, offer a hug or a smile or a you-can-do-it, or a prayer, and then thank the Giver of all good gifts.
And here's the amazing thing: in the process, the Lord often uses that pause of noticing, caring, sharing, and thanking to renew our weary hearts and strengthen our souls. We simply can't out-give God.
Shauna Niequist writes about such a time when she was overwhelmed with life. In the span of a couple of weeks, she'd hosted several showers and a rehearsal dinner, changed jobs, helped care for the needs of several dear friends while looking after her own two small children, and on top of all that, had a husband with complications from the removal of his wisdom teeth. We've all had those seasons of life, haven't we? Nothing horrible, but just too much of a lot! And all we can see are needs, deficits, and difficulties.
Niequist recounts how she rushed out to get more gauze for her ailing husband and zoomed through the store, hurling things into the cart. "When I got back home, he told me that I bought the wrong gauze. I stomped out the door, and then I stopped in my tracks. Across the street, one of the tallest trees, twice as high as a two-story house, was the brightest, lit-from-within red I have ever seen. I had not noticed one stop of its turning. I had stopped seeing the important things. I saw the to-do list. I had gifts to buy and people to celebrate. But I wasn't seeing the people of the celebrations. I wasn't seeing anything beyond the chaos of my life."
Open our eyes, Father, that we might see, truly see.
To God be the glory.
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