It didn’t feel right. Dawn was yet an hour away but that didn’t explain why the sky was Starbucks black. I looked through the sunroof at the lack of stars and knew I was in trouble. With my photo gear piled on the car seat, I was headed to Garden of the Gods. My goal: that one amazing shot of the first rays of sun lighting the red rocks of the garden with a snow capped Pikes Peak in the background, all framed by the beautiful blue Colorado sky. I guess I should have checked the weather forecast.
I setup my tripod overlooking the Garden of the Gods to await the dawn. Instead of a dazzling sunrise, I was greeted by a gradual lightening of the gray. Low clouds enveloped the Garden. Pikes Peak was nowhere to be found. The light was totally flat, as were my hopes of getting any good images. I decided to do what I was supposed to be doing anyway. Yard work.
Up to my elbows in mud, I was waging war on the sprinkler system but it was winning. The current combatant was a valve that refused to shut off. Wrestling with the valve, I noticed a spider web in the grass to my right. It was no bigger than a dime and covered with dew. Wiping off my hands, I grabbed my camera. What I saw through the macro lens was stunning. Another world opened up in tiny beads of water suspended on the fine web. It was then I noticed droplets precariously clinging to fine blades of grass. Snapping pictures of grass, I found a lone ladybug climbing one of the blades. She willingly posed for an impromptu photo shoot. A honeybee buzzed me, so I followed him to the nearby dandelions. He was not thrilled about his photo shoot. I saw the sun lighting his amber wings and pollen stuck to his face like a two year old with birthday cake.
Sometimes irony is subtle. Other times it slaps you. I was searching for God in the big things. I looked for his glory in massive sandstone and imposing granite. I listened for him to shout from the mountains but he was whispering from the grass.
God is in my back yard. I happened to notice a few instances out of a thousand. That’s just in my back yard. Today he will create billions of works of stunning beauty that no human being will stop to notice. I think he does it just because it’s fun. The creator did not stop being creator after six days and a rest. It is his nature.
When I go to the mountains to be surrounded by his grandeur I sidestep the reality that, no matter where I am, his glory encompasses my on every side. His creativity is non-stop but I miss it because I am non-stop. I need to intentionally pause to ponder the intricacies of his fingerwork.
As I write this, I am sitting cross-legged on my patio. An ant just scurried by. Gotta go…