Moments

Lots of moments this week where I stumbled across the holy.

(There are  moments like this every week, no? I just usually don’t notice them. I’m busy, self-absorbed, and so occupied with who knows what in my own head that I miss the ordinary holy that is going on around me.)

The video above captured one of those moments.  I had wandered out into the yard, weed bag in hand, ready to continue my near daily fight against the ubiquitous ferny burr weeds that love to lodge themselves in my dog’s toes and up by his mouth, where I have to carefully cut  them out, just millimeters from his lips. I hate these weeds. I’ve been fighting them (and the blackberries. And the breath of heaven trees. But you already know all that) for years. So I wasn’t in the backyard looking for beauty. I was looking for weeds. But then there was a poppy, and a bee doing this dance. I was lucky to capture that moment. What more is there than that?

The whole world in that poppy.

Then there was the moment this week when my son and I were finishing our walk around the cemetery loop.  We had just made it back to the main road when a car passed us, filled with teenaged boys, and one boy leaned out of his partially opened window and smiled and waved.

He was an older boy from one of the classes where I substitute taught at the end of the school year, just a few weeks ago.

And it is not a huge thing, to have someone wave, but it was a happy surprise, a gift. To be seen and acknowledged. Especially by someone from a group who might not have seemed super happy to have me as a substitute teacher for the day. I never imagined that any of those kids would recognize me out of the classroom context, and if they did, I wouldn’t think they would bother to say hello. But he did. It made my day.

There was also a moment this week at the park in town, where I was walking for a few minutes before my dentist appointment. A hawk swooped down into my line of sight and then disappeared,  right there in that small city park where I’ve only ever seen squirrels and little birds. He was magnificent. I don’t think anyone else even noticed him.

Also, I counted six doves outside my kitchen window this week, the most I’ve ever seen at one time. I am especially fond of doves. I remember when I was growing up, how I would lie in bed and listen to the dove songs. It makes me happy that the doves are making a home close to me,  that they seem content to waddle around my front yard bird feeders and drink from my lopsided birdbath.  There were also little blackbirds at the feeders, and it sure seemed like some of them were picking up seeds and feeding them to other birds that really weren’t that much smaller than they were. I’m guessing it was mamas and babies.

So much life outside the kitchen window. And on the road. And at the park.

So much life in all the ordinary moments of my days.