Have you ever driven through an area unfamiliar to you and were so captivated by a view that you stopped the car to take a picture?

You get out of the car and onlookers think that because of your apparent lack of destination that maybe you are a meter reader or something, but you don’t care because you are intent on posting this one on Facebook regardless of curious observers.

Maybe you just stand and stare; maybe you become aware of His nearness as you stand there and you pause in silence to say “thanks” to the God who created it.

“There is no artist like our creative God,” you think to yourself.

I have to confess that I don’t do this often enough.  But because my travels take me all over Eastern Iowa, I do occasionally “stop to smell the roses, along the way.”  When I do,  I have this recurring thought especially if I see something that I really think is beautiful.

(I mean beautiful like this waterfall, for instance! Spotted in the little community of Bertram.)

My recurring thought is that I wonder how many people pass this way at least twice every single day on the way to work and home and don’t see what I see.   Will all the extra errands they run, perhaps they pass by several times a day but the familiarity and routine of their day numbs them to the beauty that is there.   They see the same thing that I see but it doesn’t snap them to attention because  it’s well…routine.

Here’s to appreciating the beauty that’s all around us every day and letting it captivate us during routine moments.

We’re about to enter into the most colorful season of the year, in my opinion.  Autumns in Iowa have no equal when it comes to beauty.  And if it stays dry as it has been, there is every chance that the colors of the leaves will be rich and vibrant.  We will soon be surrounded by a “heavenly canvas” of art – no matter where we call “home” in just a few days.

And that canvas can be a “new” experience every day,  if we choose to “see it.”

For it is written, “He makes all things new.” Rev. 21:5

Something to think about.

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