Down here south of the Mason-Dixon line, generally speaking, we are still in fall. Even as late as last week in the 60 degrees, glowing-red trees and blazing yellow shimmers could still be spotted. As I was zooming down the road, eager to go around a slow-moving Ford, Owen reflectively states as he looks out,
"Mom...isn't that just...beautiful?"
Opening my eyes, I too, see.
"Wow. It sure is, baby, it sure is."
But even more so than the trees flanked by the crisp blue background, the true beauty lies in the one that was able to see the Beauty. For this is no small thing. In a world that is always looking ahead to see what's next, missing the here and now becomes commonplace. To see, to really see, is a gift.
Nurturing the noticing...
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