When I started writing here on small points of light, I wasn’t really aware of how the practice of noticing moments of daily, divine ordinary would alter my view of life. Most especially, when I commit to daily writing, my attention focuses away from the daily grind and I begin to notice things. I notice a moment of beauty, or I tune in when I hear someone spontaneously singing or making music. I notice acts of kindness, moments of serendipity, and glimpses of God in motion in the world. Whenever I write about these small points of light, I have noticed that something in me also changes. I become more aware, more inquisitive, more willing to take risks and share beauty.

Sometimes I am still caught off guard, though.

About a month ago, I took my daughter to an archery lesson at a state park. While she had some time to play, I found a quiet place to write in the beautiful autumn outdoors. I took a few smartphone photos of the trees and the scenic beauty of that day’s writing spot. It wasn’t until a few days ago that I was scanning through my photo stream and saw this picture. “When did I take a picture of a cross?” I thought. Then, I realized, it wasn’t an intentional picture. It was just one of the random, scenic images I captured that Saturday morning near the archery range as I was writing. I hadn’t noticed the powerful image captured in trees and light.

I am not one to see Angels in clouds, nor to find profiles of Jesus lurking on my toast. But, there is a calmness that comes over me when I see this (non-enhanced) photo that reminds me how Divine Presence surrounds us, fills us, watches over and guards us at all times, if only we will be still long enough to notice.

Gracious God, your nearness fills my soul. May I always slow down, pay attention, and take time to notice your incarnation throughout this world, and in our lives.

In response to the AdventWord global advent calendar project with the Society for St. John the Evangelist. Today’s word: #notice. Follow the worldwide advent calendar at: http://www.aco.org/adventword.cfm