When I was in college, my grandma would send me letters that included pictures of birds from her back porch. An avid gardener herself, she eventually retired into dedicated bird watching when her body no longer allowed her to garden.
In her letters were honest-to-goodness developed-at-the-local-photo-lab pictures of birds. “Blue jay” would be written on the back or “Cardinal”. She was great about labeling pictures, although she did have a weird habit of circling people’s heads in pen when writing names on photos. So she wasn’t perfect.
I remember looking at those bird pictures and thinking, I would never waste film on a bird.
Because in the olden days when I was young — “when there were cowboys and Indians,” as my daughter used to say — we had to buy film and pay to get it developed.
Those bird pictures got a quick glance, a sweet thought toward my grandma, and then were forgotten.
Recently, I was watching a bird land in my mulberry tree and instinctively grabbed my phone to take a picture of it “to show Nathan later”, when I suddenly remembered those letters.
How did this happen? I thought to myself. Not that I had made some kind of inner vow to never photograph birds, but I distinctly remembered thinking, I would never waste film on a bird.
Which I didn’t technically. But now I do photograph them. Just like my grandma 25 years ago.
I’m not a bird fanatic by any means, but I understand now how it happens. I slowed down. I finally started to actually look. To see what was already there and let myself appreciate what the Lord had created.
And I realized how much of my life had not included observation.
So many years were survival years — young kids in tow, homeschooling, doctor’s appointments, behavior management, ministry building, and trying to imagine a future that felt just out of reach. What our culture calls “the hustle”.
When I was hustling, I wasn’t thinking about sitting still long enough to watch a bird move across a branch.
But something in me has changed.
There is joy in the smell of a new morning. Peace in the rhythm of breathing deeply. Warmth in the sun on my face. Contentment in simply being an observer.
There is a time for everything, the Bible says. Life is lived within the boundaries of time, and within those boundaries we gain clarity. We can mark beginnings and endings, and we can choose to value what we have been given or rush past it, forgetting that time is a reality for us all.
That morning I realized that I wasn’t just watching a bird; I was being invited into stillness. Not to fix anything. Not to produce anything. Just to be present in what God had already placed in front of me.
So my challenge to you today is not complicated: Be where you are.
If you are in nature, look, listen, feel. Worship the Creator for what He has given you and surrounded you with.
If you are not in a place where you can step outside and notice the world around you, then notice what is within you. Take a breath. Remember the taste of cheesecake. Imagine cool water on a hot day. Or, simply marvel at the wonder of the coffee in your hands.]
You don’t have to earn this moment. You don’t have to prove anything inside of it.
You are already held in grace.
So notice your world. Take it in. Be present.
With love and hope,
Lacey Steel
