I almost missed it. No, not the grande display of wondrous, media worthy miracles.
Not the heightened emotion or perfect pictures able to display for all to see.
Not the life-changing trip, newest purchase, or that moment creating envy, jealousy, or greed….
But the small and the still, and the quiet and the insignificant. Those are the moments, I never want to miss.
I almost missed the tiny, brown, cotton tail, my five-year-old pointed out to me from the dinner table, eating clover in our overgrown grass.
Eyes darting, mind reeling with business, I almost failed to stop and watch…
Its quiet munching, fur blending into the green grass as if camouflaged from danger.
And when it saw us, ears twitching, standing erect, the way the front paws led it to the shelter of the trees. Padded feet, white tail, hidden underneath, only seen as it hops softly and rhythmically away.
I almost missed it, the pounding thunder, beating hard against our solid house hours later. Darkened clouds lit with jagged lightening. The way rains held off, air warm and musky…
The way that night seemed to be asking for answers from the deepest of our being.
The howling of the heavens as we raced for water bottles and cleats, in preparation for sports, in hopes to train our children well.
Racing out the door, I almost missed the aimless golden lab with head low, ears bent, pacing around the front of our property, shaken by the storm.
Grey fur on its face, blends with blonde, and how he has lived and wondered and was looking for his home…
And how, if we examine it well enough, nothing or no one is that different from us, really.
Yet, I was almost too busy to have compassion, knowing he was alarmed by the lightning dancing through the sky, not knowing where to go, or who to turn to.
I almost missed the silver heart that had his phone number and name, “Ellie” on it.
I almost missed Ellie, running my fingers through his rough coat, grabbing his face in my hands, and caring if he found the place he longs for….
because I was too busy.
I almost missed the still air, the morning after. The quiet lull, the earth humbled after trees bent and all creation is alerted to its maker.
A reminder that He is big, high, and lifted up in the heavens.
A call to remember He is sovereign and we are at the expense of His will despite our own plans of purposes.
I almost missed the text from a friend of old, pointing me towards National Prayer day.
And her simple words, “I am thinking of you.”
And how our world changes when we know someone is thinking of us.
Just a text. Yet, such a simple, thoughtful way to bless, putting other people before ourselves.
And, I almost missed it.
I almost missed sitting and soaking up the memory of when this friend once lived closer.
The days we sat, held hands, and prayed together for me, her…for her daughter…
And how today, we are counting the blessing of how her child’s life now has been radically altered…
And how God’s grace always sprinkles wider because of our prayers.
I almost missed the thoughts of bowed knees, and hearts surrendered in that church where Jesus was first…
They knew, no words, goodness, position or religious act could pay their way to heaven. Humble hearts and abandoned praise…
I had almost forgotten, if it was not for my friend texting.
And to think….I almost missed it.
I almost missed the early morning dew appearing painted upon the earth.
The stillness of creation, light trying to peak its way between the clouds wanting to blanket it.
The constant drip, drip, drip of water, rhythmically, calmly, reassuringly from the drains above the front porch.
And how the air is fresh and clean. How we can breathe deep, after the rain, or after any storm, really.
I almost missed the smell of baby lotion on newly cut hair, laying underneath my nostrils, while cuddling on the creaking bench as we rock back and forth, back and forth…
Waiting for the yellow bus to pull up in our driveway.
“Snow seems to be falling.” I tell him. “Look!”
I point to the light pink cherry blossoms falling to the grass…
Spinning and dancing, and twisting like flying parachutes, gracefully, beautifully, delicate.
Yet, if I would have lived in my head, with worry, and business, racing towards my own agenda, instead of taking these moment and giving them away….
I would have missed it.
Even in this moment, I think of all the big, blaring, magnificent acts we have or could do to prove to the world that we are incredible, wonderful….
When really, I wonder if we are missing the miracle in the little moments. These quiet breaths, treasured gifts nobody sees.
Will we be too busy? Will we miss them?
Lord, don’t let me ever miss them.