Small Graces

I've spent some time this morning reading from a book of Kent Nerburn (a fellow Bemidjian) called Small Graces. Every short chapter is beautiful; each celebrates a "small grace" we have right in front of us every day. Today, I read about a woman Kent met when he drove cab, a woman he'd pick up regularly. She was blind, and once they became friends they shared more and more of their lives. One day he asked her what she wanted to see if, for even one minute, she could have the gift of sight. She told him she wanted to see clouds, that clouds were the one thing people could never quite explain, something she was not even close to understanding. Here is an excerpt of Kent's words:

"'Clouds,' I thought. Of course. What else in this great universe so eludes description, so fills the spirit with wonder? What else floats gossamer and ethereal above our lives, never touching down but always present with us, a reminder of the majesty of an unseen God? --- As a child we are alive to their magic. We lie on our backs on summer hillsides, make up stories, find giants and dragons in their forms. They are God's sketchbook, the measure of our capacity to dream. --- But as we grow, they fall victim to numbing familiarity. Their poetry and majesty, though still alive in our hearts, is easily overlooked, easily ignored."

I am grateful today for the reminder to look past something I am familiar with (like the fall colors on the trees!) to something else - like the clouds - that I don't notice as often.