Stop and notice the beauty

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her in the rear view mirror as I'm driving, and I have to fight to tear my eyes away, back to the road, as she is simply gorgeous.  She sits with her blond waves framing her face, pink lips pursed in contemplation (of what, I wonder), blue eyes sparkling.

Or I'll stop during dinner and see the way his eyelashes, so long and dark, flutter against his pale skin.  He cuddles around me in bed when I'm so reluctant to get up in the morning and speaks such words of love.

What a precious gift, these two small beings, with such big personalities and strong wills.  They are completely individual, and yet I can see a flash of John and me, here and there, before it dissolves just as quickly and they are just Brady and Maryn, separate, unique.

The sad thing is how seldom I stop to notice this beauty in the chaos of our busy lives.  I focus too much on how they chew with their mouths open and whine about not getting their way.  I completely overlook the miracle of how these two have grown from helpless babies to independent children, finding their own way in the world, both connected to and separate from their parents.

It's so easy to get caught up in the routine and lose the beauty of the sacred moments.  Today as I was walking from the parking lot to the chapel, I paused for a moment as I was struck by a memory of my very first time on campus, at the spot between the library and the chapel where I first felt Hollins calling me home.

How many times do I walk by and forget, consumed with pressing demands on my time and energy?  Yet when I stopped, that initial sense of newness and passion I once felt flooded me again.

Perhaps we need these moments to remember our calling.
May we find moments of blessing and renewal right where we are.