What You Alone Can See

Walking to school, we notice how everything drips.  It’s nearly 35 degrees (a warm day!), and we’re jubilant as we slosh along the sidewalk. 

I observe the water droplets on the branches and winter berries, and it suddenly occurs to me that not one other living creature sees what I see at this exact moment.

The droplets fall to the earth, and I know that never again–not even once in a million years–will that exact configuration of molecules exist on this limb.

I observe them, behold their passing, and consider the sublime fact that I took note of what nobody else could see.   In this enormous earth, filled with billions of people, no one–not even one!–saw that droplet reflecting the neighbor’s pine tree in its orb. 

My day bursts with wonder.  I’m seeing what no one else sees.  I’m documenting a beauty that would be otherwise lost.  

You see things in your world that I do not see and will never see.  You notice what a billion people will not ever behold.

Living with flair means we erupt with wonder–with worship–at these things around us.  No other creature looks at what we are seeing, in the way we are seeing it.  We experience beauty that God places before us, and living with flair means we proclaim it. 

Journal:  What moment of beauty did I observe today that no other creature saw?