Morning. Early morning. Everyone else was still politely snoring in the cabin nestled in the north woods of Wisconsin. Not Emmalyn. She had just turned two. And two-year-olds have an amazing capacity for getting up at the crack of dawn—or before.
Emmy’s mom, though, was also up that morning. She’d just made a cup of hazelnut-chocolate coffee and was sitting on the deck overlooking West Spider Lake. The fragrance of pine trees and the freshly ground flavored beverage hung heavy on the scene.
Emmalyn helped herself up into her mother’s lap. Cocooned in blankets, the two pondered the sounds of chatty birds busy in the thick spread of trees. After a few moments of silence, Emmy had a question. “Mamma, did God make these trees?” Her mom, Rachel, replied, “He sure did!” Silence. A pause.
Then Emmy looked down at the blue waters of West Spider Lake. “Did God make that lake down there?” Again came Rachel’s reply. “He sure did!” More silence. Another sip of hazelnut-chocolate coffee for Rachel. At this point, Emmalyn looked down at the ground, mostly a mix of sand and grass–the "sandbox" she plays with by the hour.
“Mamma, the sand here is so fun to play with. Did God make the sandbox for me?”
“He sure did!” There followed still another pause, then came a look on Emmalyn’s face that suggested she was in the middle of deep thought. Snuggling tighter, she finally commented, “Wow, Mom, God sure is one cool dude!”
“He sure is!” agreed Rachel. For refreshing candor and honesty, you can’t do much better than a two-year-old! But her story triggers a caution for us grown-ups.
Some of us never truly learn to see the grandeur of God. We’ll occasionally notice an unusual sunrise or sunset. But most of the wonder of our awesome God is simply left unseen, unnoticed.
- We call a dandelion a weed and fail to find wonder at the way its cottony seeds are blown and scattered.
- We plant daylilies for ground cover and rarely pause to look deep inside their richly hued blooms or consider the architecture of these magnificent flowers.
- We can hear a woodpecker and never bother to wonder why, with all that beak blasting, its brain doesn’t get addled.
See what I mean? We need to learn to see the grandeur of God. Many of us limit our definition of God’s grandeur to the “big” things: seashores, deserts, full moons. But the majesty and glory of God are as evident on the back of a ladybug, or a helicopter maple seed as they are in a climb up Mount Everest, a hike through the Redwoods, or a dive into the Great Barrier Reef.
Notice one of the places where Emmalyn found it: something as common as sand. Could it be that you—like me—need to learn to see the glory of God in common things?
May the glory of the Lord endure forever; may the Lord rejoice in his works, who looks on the earth and it trembles, who touches the mountains and they smoke! -Psalm 104:31–32
This is just one of the 26 stories featured in the book, Kids Say the Wisest Things. Would be honored to have you check it out here: http://kidssaythewisestthings.com/
