Two years ago we drove Going-to-the-Sun Road through Glacier National Park for the first time that I remember. It absolutely took my breath away. I couldn't believe how high we were and how far we could see and the majesty of the mountain and valley and the waterfalls.
Then just last week we drove through Glacier National Park again on our way to Alberta. While still amazingly beautiful, it didn't feel as breathtaking to me. At least, not like it did that first drive. Scrooge that I am.
But my kids; my kids couldn't get enough. "Look at that waterfall! It looks like water stairs! And look at the mountain! Whoa! We're so high! Oh man, another waterstairs! Look at those rocks! Can we climb that? Look at that bridge! Are there more waterstairs coming up? Look at all the snow right there! Mom, Heavenly Father made all this!? For us!? That's awesome!"
I got caught up in their childhood wonder and pointed out every single sighting of the 'waterstairs' as we swerved slowly up the mountain. Because God is awesome. His creations are profound. And in a sunlit moment of grace I realized that I've forgotten four of His most profound creations weren't out there on the mountain.
I've been in a bit of a funk as of late. These kids are wonderful and beautiful and incomprehensibly loved, but I've been struggling to act like it. I've been chronically cranky and short tempered and the daily wait for bedtime is a struggle. It's bothersome that I recognize it but haven't known how to change it.
Then God, using their child like excitement about the everyday wonders of His "waterstairs", showed me the everyday wonder of these children.
"As we become more familiar with something, even something miraculous and awe-inspiring, we lose our sense of awe and treat it as commonplace." -President Dieter F. Utchdorf-
I realized on that road that I've lost my sense of awe. I've let the mind numbing repetition and familiarity of the day to day overshadow my view of the miraculous in every day. I forget that I am more than just a diaper changing, shoe finding, human snot rag. And they are more than just loudmouthed, mess making, mucous covered house-tyrants. (Although, in all honesty, there are days when that's less true than others...) Motherhood is so much more than diapers and screaming kids (though it very much involves that). It's about creating a learning environment for these tiny souls to expand and enrich themselves and others. It's about working with God. It's about miracles. It's about being constantly surrounded by the awe-inspiring. And it's about being childlike enough to not let the breathtaking moments become too familiar to be enjoyed.
God is a God of the miraculous. What's incredible is that He works in the commonplace, though He never treats anything as commonplace. There's a lesson in that, I think. So much of His work is in the tiniest and apparently mundane details, and He doesn't seem to tire of it. The miracle isn't really the waterfall. It's in the individual drops of water; that there are enough accumulatively constantly available to make "waterstairs". When I forget that I stop seeing the majesty in Motherhood that I once did.
But when I remember, the wonder in the smallest ordinary drop of the cascading torrent seems a little more spectacular again.
Then just last week we drove through Glacier National Park again on our way to Alberta. While still amazingly beautiful, it didn't feel as breathtaking to me. At least, not like it did that first drive. Scrooge that I am.
But my kids; my kids couldn't get enough. "Look at that waterfall! It looks like water stairs! And look at the mountain! Whoa! We're so high! Oh man, another waterstairs! Look at those rocks! Can we climb that? Look at that bridge! Are there more waterstairs coming up? Look at all the snow right there! Mom, Heavenly Father made all this!? For us!? That's awesome!"
I got caught up in their childhood wonder and pointed out every single sighting of the 'waterstairs' as we swerved slowly up the mountain. Because God is awesome. His creations are profound. And in a sunlit moment of grace I realized that I've forgotten four of His most profound creations weren't out there on the mountain.
I've been in a bit of a funk as of late. These kids are wonderful and beautiful and incomprehensibly loved, but I've been struggling to act like it. I've been chronically cranky and short tempered and the daily wait for bedtime is a struggle. It's bothersome that I recognize it but haven't known how to change it.
Then God, using their child like excitement about the everyday wonders of His "waterstairs", showed me the everyday wonder of these children.
I realized on that road that I've lost my sense of awe. I've let the mind numbing repetition and familiarity of the day to day overshadow my view of the miraculous in every day. I forget that I am more than just a diaper changing, shoe finding, human snot rag. And they are more than just loudmouthed, mess making, mucous covered house-tyrants. (Although, in all honesty, there are days when that's less true than others...) Motherhood is so much more than diapers and screaming kids (though it very much involves that). It's about creating a learning environment for these tiny souls to expand and enrich themselves and others. It's about working with God. It's about miracles. It's about being constantly surrounded by the awe-inspiring. And it's about being childlike enough to not let the breathtaking moments become too familiar to be enjoyed.
God is a God of the miraculous. What's incredible is that He works in the commonplace, though He never treats anything as commonplace. There's a lesson in that, I think. So much of His work is in the tiniest and apparently mundane details, and He doesn't seem to tire of it. The miracle isn't really the waterfall. It's in the individual drops of water; that there are enough accumulatively constantly available to make "waterstairs". When I forget that I stop seeing the majesty in Motherhood that I once did.
But when I remember, the wonder in the smallest ordinary drop of the cascading torrent seems a little more spectacular again.
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