"Winter warmth and light and a shady place in summer:
He's ever over me."
It was a beautiful day for a boat race.
"Hello Uncle Elias!" We shook his hand and sat next to him on the creaking platform. His eyes brightened behind his lopsided glasses and he turned to start speaking to us in his slurred Tagalog. Elias has had several debilitating strokes. The last one happened about two years ago, and at the time it had left him nearly paralyzed. But he had recovered tremendously since then, having a lot greater range of motion. He still used a walker to slowly get places, and he couldn't quite articulate all the way, but again--major improvement.
We watched in silence for a little while, hoping to see the long, pontooned fishing boats start cutting through the water. I leaned back, drinking in the whole scene. It was so beautiful. So peaceful. So wonderful. I looked at Uncle Elias. This was what he did all day, everyday. He walked from his house to the beach and he sat under his kubo kubo hut and watched paradise sighing around him. What a life.
We were quiet again. I shifted myself and scanned the beach again, letting out a sigh. We choose how we see life. I thought about how soon I would think back on this beach as a memory, trying to recall each little detail about it's magnificence. When something's always there, sometimes it begins to seem mundane, ordinary. I'd let this scene become ordinary throughout my 6 months. But it was nice to sit and drink it in again.
The forests of home are pretty ordinary. But lately I've been drinking them in again, too.
Beauty is everywhere, all around us. God has painted tapestries for us wherever we go, hoping that we'll open our eyes to see the wonders He's made. He's made life beautiful, too, if we choose to see its beauty,
and I think that's what makes the difference.