“Hey!” said one of my kids, “That’s not a statue!”
And we all turned and watched the perfectly still figure, her face and hands thick with what I could have sworn was plaster.
“No,” I said. “I think it’s just a statue.”
Then something happened: a little boy dropped a dollar into the bucket beside the figure and she slowly turned her head, the tiniest smile warming her otherwise motionless face. We were enchanted.
I gave each of my kids a dollar to drop into the bucket, even my jaded middle-school-er. When they returned to me, we watched her some more.
“Listen,” I said after a moment, gathering my kids closer. “Lots of people would say this girl is wasting her time, doing something stupid when she could be working in a soup kitchen, or making regular money in a regular job. And they could be right, but remember this: whatever else gets done in the world today, this lady just gave us – us, right here, – a little bit of joy and a little bit of wonder.”
My girls all nodded earnestly at what I was saying. Even my jaded middle-school-er.
So this is me. I might not have the talent to sound my barbaric yawp, or to create something mighty and sublime, but this I have: I appreciate. I am moved by, and filled with wonder at things of beauty. I bend down to my children and whisper, urgently: Do you see this? Stop and look at this little thing, there is something important hidden here.
It might be a book or a movie, a television show or a street performer. It might be a beer, or a fancy restaurant, or the perfect, buttery fish my husband cooks on a Friday night. These things all reflect, in some small way, the refracted light of God’s glory and I believe it is important, crucial, to take the moment to see and say with Him, “This is good.” This is my attempt to do just that, this is my way to serve him wittily, in the tangle of my mind.