In the last week, there have been a couple moments of simple beauty that struck me.
The first, I was stopped at a traffic light, waiting for the infernal red light to turn green, when three boys around the age of 12 come out of the corner gas station. They all wore t-shirts and long, baggy, teenage boy shorts, and were each carrying a bottle of orange Fanta. They walked across the street and into the neighborhood of houses, and I no longer could see them. I don’t know what it was about that sight, except that it felt precious, innocent, and rare to me. Three boys just hanging out. Friendship. No technology in sight. It was almost like a moment from the past reached into the present. I wish more of my youth kids had moments like those – moments of pure friendship. Moments of walking to the corner store to buy a soda after school. Moments of hanging out and having conversation without technology somehow infringing on their bond. And sure, these kids were probably headed to some basement where they would blow bad guys up for a couple hours. But even that walk, to the store to get a Fanta, that was moment enough to actually build friendship.
It left me smiling for the rest of the day.
The second I again was in my car (I spend quite a lot of my time in my car these days). I was driving by a small lake (pond in any other part of the country) and noticed how absolutely still the water was. When I say it was a mirror, that there wasn’t a single ripple on the water, I’m not being metaphorical; I’m being quite literal. I have never seen such still water. I could see the reflection of every single tree and bush that graced the edge of the lake. I could see every single cloud in the sky perfectly reflected in the water. It was as if some giant had carefully placed a mirror on the ground. It was absolutely gorgeous. And I was reminded that I was made to reflect my savior as this lake was reflecting its surroundings. I wondered how well I’ve been doing that recently. Am I such a reflection as this pond? Or am I a more stormy or muddy pond that is too anxious or contaminated to reflect His beauty well?
It was a pretty sight, and one that has challenged me.
I love when I notice the little moments; they are usually the ones that dig into me most, the ones I remember and stick with me.
In His Chrysalis 