The other day, while driving to the gym, I noticed something ahead of me, a ways off in the distance. It was only a peek of something, white, and perhaps round in shape, but mostly surmounted by a jagged line of glorious purple mountains. I was mostly focused on those mountains. It had been one of those typical Orange County days; you know, warm, clear, and perfect — the kind that makes everyone else not living in Southern California weep with covetous despondency. Yeah, we pay for it, though.
It was twilight about now and the sky was preparing for bed, trading its pretty blue dress for slate pajamas. While minding the other vehicles, I continued to flick my gaze toward that white something, but my eyes wouldn’t have it. It was simply too far and too small. Likely a water-tank, I told myself, and left it at that. A few minutes later I approached a bend in the freeway, not even a 20 degree shift, and there it was: not a water-tank.
I couldn’t help myself, I actually cried out “MOON!!” Then my eyes filled with tears.
And here’s why.
A minute later, it looked like this:
Those mountains, the ones I had only moments ago claimed as glorious, were all but forgotten — bland wallpaper in comparison the luminous orb ascending into the sky. My breath was taken.
For the remainder of the drive, I continued to fawn over the sheer beauty, newly amazed that its enormity and resplendence was only fraction of what it would look like from space. I turned off the music and let beauty’s song play its soundtrack.
Not before long, something occurred to me: While I had grown quite competent of appreciating the little things, the simple pleasures and humble beauty life has to offer, I had grown less and less expectant of the extravagant and extraordinary. I believe this stems from a determination not to undermine or undervalue anything; I see beauty everywhere, in mundane things and flawed people. The alluring can be found just so long as we’re willing to look for it. The Creator’s hand isn’t absent from a single blade of grass, nor is removed from the aged oak tree. He is artisan and His integrity shows itself even in the unassuming.
However . . .
I’m quite certain He didn’t go about constructing this world in indifference, either, or with a lackadaisical spirit. Think about a time where you labored over a gift for someone you care deeply for. Did you squeeze it in during a lunch break? Finish up the project last minute? No, of course not. You took your time, your goal being to present something no less than perfect. This, too, was His design.
My small mind can barely contain the Great wisdom and knowledge God’s possesses, but I like to believe that as He went about designing the place His children would inhabit, He relished the opportunity to create us a something we could delight in. More importantly, and I believe this with every atom culminating to make up my being, God is an enthusiast. He wants us to marvel! His hope is to fill us with a sense of wonder and intrigue.
With that in mind, I wanted to share a few pictures with you. I received this e-mail the other day and, while my first thought had been to share just one or two, I quickly found myself stressed over trying to decide which one was “The One.”
I hope you enjoy these shots. Moreover, I hope you find yourself struck with marvel and wonder.