I hope I never become so busy that I stop being impressed by ordinary things.

The way the sky changes just before sunrise.

The sound of a child laughing from another room.

The first deep breath after stepping outside.

The hush that settles over everything just before rain.

I wonder if one of the greatest losses in adulthood isn’t our sense of wonder.

It’s our willingness to slow down long enough to notice it.

We’re always moving toward the next thing.

The next appointment.

The next responsibility.

The next notification.

The next goal.

And somewhere along the way, we become so focused on what’s next that we rush past what’s right in front of us.

But wonder has never liked to be rushed.

It asks us to linger.

To look a little longer.

To listen a little more closely.

To let an ordinary moment become extraordinary simply because we gave it our attention.

Maybe that’s why Jesus so often pointed people toward the ordinary.

Seeds.

Birds.

Lilies.

Children.

He wasn’t just teaching lessons.

He was teaching people to notice.

And I think that’s a lesson I need just as much today.

I hope I never become so familiar with God’s creation that I stop seeing His fingerprints in it.

I hope I never rush wonder.

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