If anyone would have taken notice, they might have raised an eyebrow. Me crouched down low blowing into decades old soapy-ness with one hand, framing their flight with the other in our driveway at 3:30pm this afternoon. Those who dare to live wonder-struck at life risk many raised eyebrows.
We find a remnant from another lifetime in our ongoing siege on cluttered living. To live boldly uncluttered. What a thought. Vintage suds. In the middle of de-cluttering our space, there it is. Wonder. Bottled and waiting to be found. Recognized in dusty plastic with a rusted lid. Stopped for. Wonder demands we stop in order to see. That we bend low, that we become like little children to receive. Just like God’s Kingdom. Just like.
Perhaps wonder and bubbles and miracles and the inside-out, upside-down reality of Who He is and who we are in Him are all woven together as threads we only see when we seek.
Bubbles of wonder only come into being when we breathe. Carried on March winds, inspired, exhaled into existence, here for seconds, then gone. Wonder moments only form, only are found when we breathe. When we stop with child-eyes, we start to see Him all around us all the time closer than the air itself. Always speaking in places far deeper than words. Always inviting us to receive with wide hearts all ways He comes. Always calling us lower and closer. And there they fly. Soapy orbs of fragile transparency, bending light into rimmed spectrums of grace. Racing heavenward and with them, my gaze.
His wonder always draws our gaze heavenward. Always. And this.
“If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth.”
Set. Purposely, intentionally set our thoughts. Literally exercise our minds, direct our thought lives, fix our desires on things above. When we set our gaze above, He will open our eyes below. And we will begin to see His moving and coming all around us that we too, like Jesus, might only do what we see our Father already doing.
In the last of the pink petaled explosions of azalea season, in the light filtering through still bare branched trees, in the seeking of all that is His Kingdom, in the finding of grace in unexpected places, in all these: wonder waits to lead our gaze higher, our posture lower, our reach farther.
May you, friends, find wonder, even when it comes bottled in dust-covered plastic with a rusty lid.