God’s nature stopped me recently. I paused, looked, listened, and prayed thanks.
That morning I was churning through a myriad of chores, and as I was rushing out the door to get to my tasks, having hustled through the process of showering, dressing, and eating, I stepped into the outdoors.
Wow! An eagle glided by just then. Beautiful and wonderful, this black-brown raptor flew at head level from the maple and evergreen trees on the left to those on the right, framed against a background of blue-gray Salish Sea water. Now still and aware, I appreciated a bird’s twitter, a seagull’s squawk, and then I saw a squirrel at the base of a Douglas fir tree looking alertly at me and twitching its tail. Overhead was blue sky, and I was breathing fresh morning air. God’s nature was in front, behind, to the left and right, in my eyes, ears, and lungs. God’s miracles were everywhere.
It was Sunday morning, and despite commitments to God and myself to keep Sundays free of the week’s usual worries—to enjoy the day in rest, contemplation, and worship—I’d become preoccupied with my supposedly important temporal obligations.
But then God and his nature stopped me. His miracles and timelessness enveloped me, quieted me, and made me realize that God, as he’s done every day for billions of years—long before me, and long after I’ll no longer be here—fills his Earth with birds, squirrels, trees, skies, and oceans, and so much else. Such an artist has to be full of love and goodness, to paint his creation with this life, variety of life, beauty, and wonder.
Now quiet and thoughtful, I prayed thanks to God for allowing me to see, hear, and know it.