Where Is My Wonder… I Wonder?

I’m an early riser. On most days, around 4:45 a.m., my internal alarm dings. I’m up. I take a medication that requires an empty stomach and waiting at least thirty minutes before partaking in coffee. I try to earmark that interim between waking and the delightful waft of my favorite brew for the Lord. This morning was a technicolor experience. In His gentle, patient kindness, He revealed to me the disillusionment of where I’ve been banking my treasure.

Matthew 6:19-21, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (NIV)

For the last several weeks, I’ve been reading a book centered on navigating life’s seasons of change, realizing there are quite possibly more years behind than before you, and gripping a mindset focused on moving closer and closer to Jesus by allowing the temporal to grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.

This morning’s suggestion was to take in the outside world. Rather than hunker down for an emotional escape of binge watching a favorite program, lace up the sneakers and burn some rubber. Or in my case, just stroll.

The sun yawned as I stood on the front porch. Not fully awake but casting pale hues across the sky before fully getting out of bed to light our way for the day. I began to see things around me in a new perspective.

Laced up and ready, I stared at the empty field across from our house. Sure, I see it every day out my kitchen window as I load or unload the dishwasher or cook a meal. But in the mundane tasks of the grind, I’ve lost my appreciation for it. I’ve lost the wonder of the days my daughter and I used to grab our bikes and hit the trail looking for turtles around the pond. The wonder of going for a walk just to feel the breeze kiss my skin and be thankful for the ability. The wonder of hearing the birds rival a philharmonic along its path. Where is my wonder… I wonder?

Not far down the road, I noticed a random table in the front yard of a neighboring home. It struck me because of its simplicity yet total vulnerability to be placed in the front yard. What conversations had been held, meals shared, tears shed, laughter spewed around this simple table in the front yard? The practice of hospitality. Insert second perspective shift of the morning, and at this point, it wasn’t even 6:30 a.m….

Hospitality can be intimidating. With the pressures of culture and the good ole thief of joy, comparison, the thought of opening your home to others, particularly those you don’t know on a personal level, is palpitation inducing. Here’s the perspective shift reminiscent of the morning’s reading to let the things of earth grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace. It’s not about the stateliness of your table, it’s about the open heart and vulnerability of the invitation to your table. Folded napkins and fine china or Dixie plates and hot dogs. Jesus sat at a multitude of tables and His grace was present at all and for all. Why do I get so caught up in the perfectionist aspect of hospitality when simplicity rules? Where is my wonder… I wonder?

The turnaround point of the walk is affectionately known to my family as The Beautiful Water. My daughter, now thirteen, named it that when she was about three. Perspective shift three… appreciating beauty that has lost its luster because it’s been choked out by distractions.

Years ago, my daughter and I went on a walk to The Beautiful Water. About a quarter into the return trip back home, she began to troddle. A term she coined to refer to heavy, dreadfully slow, feet plodding the pavement. The only way to finish was to troddle through it. Look closely at the picture. See the fog hovering over the water? Record screech moment for me.

The Lord of hosts loves me, despite my troddling moments, and summons me into participation with Him in the pathway He has carved for my life. He allows me to see Him more clearly through the lens of His creation. That is awe-striking.

My wonder has been held hostage under a stack of ‘treasures’ I deem more worthy than seeking Him in the present. The ‘I’ll do that later’ mantra has been on repeat for far too long. I’m reminded of the lyrics from the hymn, “Just a Closer Walk With Thee”:

Just a closer walk with Thee,
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea,
Daily walking close to Thee,
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

Just a closer walk with Thee, Lord. Loosen my grasp on the temporal. When I grip too tightly, pry my hand. Sift my stuff like sand through my palms. Leave what needs to remain.

Anonymous. “Just a Closer Walk With Thee.”Baptist Hymnal, 1991, https://hymnary.org/text/i_am_weak_but_thou_art_strong