Remembering to See

I found myself at the kitchen sink again this morning where my mind was caught up in some meaningless drivel. How did I get here again? It scares me how often I put my mind and body on cruise control and go through the motions of routine. I forget to look, to really see and notice and study things.

Thankfully, I was thrown out of automatic pilot when I went out the front door to take the scraps to the goats. At 13 degrees this morning, it’s cold. The air was so sharp and so crisp that it literally hit me in the face and woke me up. Every breath was like a cleansing, and my eyes were thrown open to the sensations around me – heightened by the intensity of the cold.

I saw the sky that Caleb had commented on earlier – it was an incredible red hue. I saw Eli in his bright blue snowsuit waddling through the barnyard – struggling with the weight of the water bucket he was carrying. I saw and heard Caleb – the continually busy worker bee – starting the snowmobile to drive out to his uncle’s barn and get the skidloader for some work. I heard birdsong – Eli told me just the other day that he’s noticed more birds lately – a sign that spring is working its’ way here.

How thankful I am for the cold this morning. It forced me to remember to see . . . and give thanks for that which I see. Yesterday I gave myself a little assignment. Once a day, I want to focus on some aspect of my loved ones – I want to notice something about them that I never really took in before. Whether it’s about their physical features, their personality, their gifts. Yesterday Caleb was my subject. I realized for the first time that his eyes are just like mine. Though they appear brown from a distance, when you look closely at them, they’re actually brown flecks swimming in a pool of hazy green.

I can’t wait to see what I see today.