Every morning, the sun rises. Every evening, it sets. And most days I miss both in this mad rush to live life…and live it on time. A counter-productive race that ignores the Bearer of Life for the sake of living it.
Camera to my eye, I ponder why the stillness eludes me. The Light of the World brings me a sunrise every morning and every day I cry out for stillness…while the color-filled sky is hung by the Master like a canvas backdrop to my morning. And I fail to pause.
The elusive pause...
True life exists in the glorious moments of pause. The sunrise. The lone robin on a limb. The eyes of a child.
Serving Jesus…denying ourselves…means stopping. It means, bending down and looking into eyes of an expressive child, chattering away. It means stopping to notice the bird and his song. It means admiring the sunset…capturing the beauty and tucking it away to help carry us through the less-beautiful moments of our day.
I turn from the window and catch a glimpse of the laundry piled up...the evidence of a week spent rushing about, succeeding at half-tasks.
I hold my camera and smile.
Suddenly the tasks at hand seems less daunting. Suddenly I feel like a bird in flight, a woman...a mother...prepared to tackle the day. And not because I'm worthy or capable. Not because I suddenly have it all figured out. And definitely not because the tasks are less work that they were 10 minutes ago. But because in my hand, I hold the evidence of a sacred moment. A moment I chose to pause and receive the beauty handed to me every morning by a Savior who longs to see us find life in the stillness.
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