a fresh pair of eyes.

I wish I had come up with the title of this post. I owe Brooke Waggoner the thanks, but I don’t give them grudgingly.

It has been one month since I wrote, my friends.  If you read this now, I count you as among the sturdiest and most patient of my friends.  I wish I could say that these words will be as fresh as tilled earth just being turned up on a sunny spring day.  The thoughts and revelations have been to me…now to use the typewriter of my mind to click-clack-clack the ideas out to you.  Here goes…

OK.

Remember what I said a while back about finally seeing the world in color?  Well, it’s still pretty colorful.  The crazy thing is that is gets more and more colorful every day, whether I’m looking or not.  There’s always something new that I never expected. {This could include magickal fields full of fireflies, non-verbal mentally-handicapped patients I meet on the job, crazy chapters in fantasy books, baffling sunrises, greenness and goldness of meadows, and a bajillion other small yet immense things throughout the day. This list doesn’t really do a lot to show the greatness.} I get into modes when I learn to start expecting such beautiful things from such a beautiful God. They become a part of my worship, a part of the realization that He is so eternally good and omniscient and powerful and full of inexplicable…Love. And then, when I finally learn to start expecting things, grace just completely bombards me from a new dimension that, quite frankly, I didn’t expect.  Which sends me into deeper wonder and amazement.  After which I begin to expect things, after which I am yet again bombarded.  I, my friend, am a walking paradox. {Hullo, how d’you do.}

Every time I look, He gives me a fresh pair of eyes.  And every time, there is something new.  I believe God created the seas and the mountains and the bugs and the blades of the grass with much more than their First Impressions. After all, we all grow up knowing what a leaf is, and that many of them grow on trees, and even that Very Hungry Caterpillars enjoy them for breakfast {thank you, Eric Carle}. But the Creator did not draw the line at a simplistic shape, a general color of green, a vague function. Each leaf is packed tight, tighter than the back of the station wagon before a family trip across the country. It’s nigh exploding with definite purpose and a whole spectrum of colors {olive and kelly and sage and hunter and lime and fluorescent and so on} and an entire array of strange shapes and countless tiny functions inside a bigger function, which in turn serves an even bigger function, and here again we meet the circular yet not-so circular paradox of new dimensions and getting very overwhelmed with the things God has made.

That is just one leaf.  There are lots of leaves out there, and lots of different sorts of leaves on many different sorts of trees and plants, and many of them just spring right up out of the ground.  Some gather together into groups and make beautiful shapes, while some straggle off by themselves and play around in a summer breeze. We haven’t even started talking about things that think and eat and move about by themselves, and least of all we haven’t even considered rational beings. Isn’t the world HUGE?!

I’ve had about 1,000,001 epiphanies throughout the past month, and had I written every day I might have been about to jot a few down. Alas, I missed the opportunity.  And here I sit, at my dining room table, eating warm pineapple pudding that my dear mother baked, musing about things as doors to the greatness of the Person of God.  I wish I could share them all with you.  I’ll try to be better next time.

But for now, please, please, soak up the sunrise, and well-meant the words of a relative, and the kindly glance from the shopkeeper, and the hungry gaze of an artist, and the laugh of a child as you pass him on the sidewalk.  Everyone is going everywhere at all kinds of paces and with all kinds of ideas and purposes, but that’s not your business.  You’ve a clear-cut line through all of everyone else’s everything, and it’s your job to seek out and discover the greatness and the depth and the beauty in those things that cross your path every single day.  But there’s no going this alone.

He’ll give you a fresh pair of eyes.

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