Water

It has been a rainy month in Maryland. Over 20 inches coming in fits and starts at times and drenching storms in others. Water flows so easily from our faucets and we think little about its power and potential.

As I walk one morning following a precipitous night before, there are signs of the recent rain everywhere: lingering puddles that require careful navigation, beaded water droplets on cars waiting to take their owners to work or school in a few hours, and a cool heaviness in the saturated air. As I shift my mind and heart to be more observant to the details around me, I hone in on water droplets on the grass alongside the sidewalk where the dogs and I now walk. Shiny globs of clear liquid balance precariously at the apex of arched blades bent by their weight. Water molecules huddle together on slick, vivid green surfaces, capturing meager morning sunlight in refraction and reflection within the tiny orbs created by them. Together on the stretch of lawn beside me, they form a thousand points of light.

The clouds haven't totally dissipated, so there is a gloominess in the morning light. If I allow myself to focus only on the melancholy sky, I will miss God's invitation. Instead, in a moment of graceful awareness, I linger on the dew, admiring its particular beauty and the amazing physics involved in its creation. It will all be evaporated in a few hours, but for now its presence is a sign of the Creator's presence, a Divine gift of beauty than can only be recognized and appreciated on a spiritual plane. However one understands the neurobiological responses of our brain when we encounter such wonder, I give credit for the creative encounter to the God of my religious heritage, comfortable with the mystery of unknowing that challenges my logic and the tempting need to decipher that which I can never fully grasp or control. Instead I can choose to accept the invitation to simply "wonder" and bask in the awe that follows.