Me: Make sure you remember what happens at school today so you can tell me what happens when you get home.
Micah: Ok, Mom. I'll write everything down in my mind.
And so he does. He gives details about what he played at recess, who he sat next to at lunch, and what book his teacher read aloud.
I want to write the moments down in my mind, not so I can dwell in the past, but so I can realize the glory of the extraordinary in the everyday. Remembering the miracles will comfort when the load gets heavy and weight seems like too much to bear. And the miracles don't necessarily arrive on momentous occasions or special days, but they happen in the monotonous wanderings of our every day.
So we left the dishes unwashed, and even though everything for Sunday was not quite ready, we hiked a trail expecting those miracles in the commonplace around every zig zag. And we were not disappointed.
Fields of black-eyed susans
Juicy raspberries right off thorny limbs
Sweet mouths stained red
Cool mountain breezes that erase the desert heat
Aspen leaves fluttering their hello
Little boys with sword sticks fighting enemy trees
Majestic bucks surprised by our presence
Fading purple flowers announcing summer's end
Holding hands like young lovers
So the pictures are on my camera, which I can't find right now, so I'm writing these ordinary moments of grandeur in my mind.
"I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands." Psalm 143:5