the yellow backpack

To get my hotel cup of coffee I had to get up early.  A bit ironic, but fresh coffee can lure me from afar.  I promised Robert I would let him sleep until 10 a.m. and hence, a much needed slow morning.

I just imported my pictures from yesterday and all but three of them were taken by Robert from inside the car.  As we drove, he held the camera to the window exclaiming…

Wow! Oh my goodness!

Man! I missed it.  Look how big that rock is!

A lake! Caroline it’s beautiful!

you can see the rain! It’s sunny there and storming here! ugh.  the windshield wiper is in my picture.

Rainbow!!!  count the colors!!

It was such simple joy.
Simple joy over the things Elohim spoke into existence.

The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it.
Psalm 24

I was focused on I70 and finding our Quality Inn before dark– so focused that each time Robert exclaimed in joy I was taken off guard, restraining a “shhhh.”  This morning as I flipped through Robert’s rather blurry pictures, my heart was heavy with conviction.  I feel like I’m convicted of this often; maybe it’s that I’m in the beauty of God’s creation and He doesn’t want me to miss it.

Lord, I confess I ignore You way to often.  Continue to break through my focus.

My fear is that intense focus on I70 isn’t limited to just traveling.

Other I70’s that steal my focus:
-future plans
-grades
-technology
-success
-sometimes even learning
-self-centeredness
-… and the list continues…

oh, the I70’s offer nothing in light of eternity!  To return to Him is True Joy.  Look around today and praise the Lord.

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we have so many tree huggers; if only they saw the Creator and gave the glory to Him.  Him alone.

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Chapter 5

Here’s the game:  Name everything you see.  I remember thinking I would dominate such game.  Afterall, I am quite the fan of words.

As I began to play, I immediately learned that there were countless “things” that sent my mind racing but didn’t lend to a word.  Like, what do you call the yellow or red concrete slab that sits at the end of a parking spot?

I dare you to play.  You’ll be embarrassed like I still am.

Today has been mucky all day, so when my dreary living room filled with light all on its own, my investigation led me to my window.  Intrigued, I soon found myself standing on my porch staring at the sky.

For 20 minutes my mind raced to find words to describe it.  I tried to say it was as if the contrast button on my photo editor had been moved to the right while the temperatures had been cooled and then warmed again.   I tried envisioning wearing yellow glasses but then couldn’t justify how the trees could be bright green and the pool still so blue. So then I tried stepping into a painting and that seemed closer but still not there.

When none of my descriptions could suffice, I gave up.  It was majestic, beautiful, and heavenly.

Such defeat was coupled with victory when it led to deep wonder of The Heavenly Artist. He created with precision, creativity, and perfection and left even my wordy-self without words to script a sentence that would give the art one ounce of justice.

My thoughts and words are limited in comparison to the Almighty.  I like words, but I like not knowing enough words all the more.

Thursday.

oh, and I just researched those concrete slabs.  They’re called Parking Lot Bumpers.  However, nothing came up when I googled my description of the sky.

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This past weekend I visited Arenal Volcano near La Fortuna, Costa Rica.  The initial draw was my mental checklist of sites that I knew I should see while in the country.  However, the views, sounds, and resulting peace checked more than my list.

My heart was checked.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. Sunday morning in order to hike up the mountain to watch the Sun rise.  Howling monkeys in the trees, horses scattered among the hills, and countless birds orchestrated a concert introducing the Sun, and an inevitable sense of awe followed.  As I sat aware of the utter greatness and creativity of our Lord, a subtle reminder persisted deep within me.

Every morning the Sun rises with brilliant colors.
Every morning the monkeys serenade while the birds dance.
Every morning the trees paint a surreal scene among the flowing flowers.

The Composer seemed to whisper, “I do this every morning, Caroline.  I’m glad you decided to watch me today.”  The Lord does not merely pull up the Sun to check light off his list or set the moon in a routine so the streets aren’t too dark.  Everyday beauty is expressed through a new song, a new array of colors, and a new dance.

And normally I sleep through it.

Daily the beauty is evident despite my natural tendency to ignore the magnificence.  Not every morning will I watch molten rock spill from the top of a mountain, but every morning I ought to wake in light of the beauty that occurred outside my windows while I was fast sleep.  And even more, I ought to see that the God who calls the starry hosts by name, checks off my needs, checks my heart, and asks me to check into this awareness.

This is a lesson I cannot check off yet.

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