Psalm 101 Genesis 50:15–26 1 Corinthians 12:1–11 Mark 8:11–26
The older I get, the faster life accelerates. It’s like a lead foot on the gas pedal. Especially in Lent, I wonder: Am I running out of time? Will I accomplish what I want? What do I want? What do I want for my children? To be kind, to help others, to have fun, to have faith, to be curious, to be grateful. To notice.
Last summer, I had an epiphany of sorts. Some have their Eat, Pray, Love moments trotting across the globe; I had mine on P Street in Georgetown. Shuffling in front of me was a homeless man. He stopped suddenly, then pivoted my direction.
Gesturing toward a flowerbed, he said, “Do you see that hummingbird there?”
The bird hovered over a hot pink zinnia, its needle-like bill poking into the yellow center. “Wow!” I said. “I’ll see if I can get a picture.”
I pointed my iPhone and clicked a few times, but the sun’s reflection was too bright to get the bird on the screen. So I just stood and stared. A few seconds passed before it whirred away from us and we away from each other.
Upon returning home, I discovered that the camera had captured the hummingbird—not clear as day, but it was there. Like life—maybe not so clear, but there to be captured, appreciated. And it took a homeless man to help me notice. To help me see the bigger picture.