I was sitting at the beach one gorgeous day last summer, Kindle in hand and cold drink in my chair, and I kept staring at the water. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep focused on the very entertaining book I was reading. Why? Someone down the way had shouted that they saw dolphins. I have always loved dolphins; their intelligence alone makes them worthy of praise. I love how they work together to find food and go after sharks. I won’t go to any venue that uses them as a circus act because I think they should be free. Watching them glide and jump and chase prey is one of the most wonderful and awe-inspiring things I can think of. I can spend hours sitting and searching for them in the ocean. It soothes my soul.
Others had joined me in my silent searching, and it made me really happy that we were on the same adventure. Some stood at the water’s edge while others sat in their shade. I looked over at the group that had set up about 20 feet from us, and I noticed that none of them were watching. The adults were busy reading or talking or playing cards, but it was the children who caught my attention. One who looked about 5 was watching “Sponge Bob SquarePants” on an I-Pad (which I found sadly ironic); another child, maybe a few years older, was playing some kind of game on a phone. Occasionally, an adult would respond to another shout of “Dolphin” and point to the ocean, saying a few words to the children. They didn’t move. Enraptured by their devices, the world around them seemed a nuisance.
I love to learn and experience things, and I like to do it – mostly – old school. When a question comes to mind, I often ask about it out loud, and am usually met with “why don’t you Google it?” My response is that I will, at some point; but first, I would like to see if I can figure it out or find it in the recesses of my mind. I find the world to be a fascinating place, full of promise and wonder and awe. I find people to be the same and will admit that I get a little ticked off when someone tells me they aren’t special. “Of course you are!” I tell them; you are fearfully and wonderfully made, a unique invention of God. It doesn’t matter how you grew up or what you do for a living; every single one of us is a masterpiece. Like everything else in creation, we are imperfectly perfect. And every moment we draw breath is a possibility to experience wonder and awe – to see God at work in the world.
So, I will keep staring at the ocean – or the trees – or the night sky. I will keep asking questions that may or may not have answers. I will continue to sit under my awning during thunderstorms, hoping to feel the rumbles and see the flashes of light. And I will reject the notion from Ecclesiastes that “there is nothing new under the sun.” That opinion is all about giving up. I reject the notion that there is nothing left to see and feel and wonder about. If God is still speaking, there must be more ahead. We should keep listening.
Prayer – Thank You, God, for this incredible universe You have created. May we savor it every day. Amen.
Today’s art is created by Rob Gonsalves, a Magic Realism artist from Canada