Sometimes I wonder if God gets joy in our noticing. When we notice His work in quiet and small ways.
I think to myself that He must like that we noticed.
That the works of His hands, the creative expressions of His mind, His heart, the labors of His passion exist endlessly in our every day lives. What is begging to be noticed is often right under our own noses.
In Only Love Today, Rachel Macy Stafford writes these words about 'Noticers',
"Noticers are the thriving blossoms in a concrete world, reminding us to stop and feel our beating hearts every chance we can."
These words captured what I've thought about people who notice or as Stafford calls them, 'noticers'.
Noticing. It really is an art. To take time to notice. A way of living life with eyes open to what is around us and not merely on ourselves.
Isn't it the people that notice us that become the ones who win our hearts?
Isn't that part of loving? Taking notes on those we love? Mental notes?
Because aren't those we love note-worthy?
God is most note-worthy.
Most worthy of noticing.
And He can be noticed in countless ways and places.
I had just thought these thoughts the very morning that my third girl with the mocha eyes grabbed my hand. Just the other day. School was almost done for the year and we were waiting for her sissies to come home.
"Mama let's go for a walk together." In that moment I knew it was my time to be a 'noticer'. To watch her notice everything in our tiny cul-de-sac while she filled with joy and wonder.
Children are the best noticers. It is one of their highest arts.
The sun was strong and her round cheeks blushed rose.
We felt like sister's walking slowly down the cracked sidewalk.
She kept stooping low in the grass edging our neighbor's yards. Pulling buttercups and then tucking them into my pants pockets. We knelt down and examined the grass. We counted the bees gliding through clover "drinking delicious nectar" she said. Her four year old voice enthusiastically exclaiming at each new bee she found.
Each new slab of concrete she had told me, "Don't step on the cracks!" (I always forget). She had beat me to our own driveway and exulted, "I winned!" Gloating a bit.
After a twenty minute walk, that would normally take maybe four minutes at a slow pace, we sat on our very own cracked sidewalk and squinted sky ward. Frothy storm clouds had blended in with the previously mild May sky. She discovered a church steeple in a towering thunderhead. Her vision exceeded mine. I only saw a puppy. She pointed to the cloud and said, "I see it too." Her nose crinkled at the discoveries over our heads.
She had extended me the invitation to join her and I had followed her noticing the corner of the world we lived in.
I noticed the ways her mocha eyes widened at every scurrying insect and plucked every wishing thing (dandelion) we found.
I noticed the whirring of lawn mower blades delivering the sweet myrrh of the earth, freshly cut grass.
The number of front doors left open leaving screen doors to welcome spring air.
I mostly noticed my girl and what a good noticer she is.
Later as she and I laid down together I thought about Jesus.
I think of God and what He noticed.
That he notices every follicle of hair spilling out of our heads. Numbered and known. (Luke 12:7)
That He notices the moment every bird falls quietly to the earth. (Matthew 10:29)
That He notices microscopic mustard seed sized faith. (Matthew 17:20).
That He notices hearts and eyes rimmed in sorrow because He is near to the broken hearted.
That He noticed the urgent yet anonymous touch of a desperate and long-bleeding woman as he weaved his way through a pressing crowd. He noticed the touch and wanted to know her. (Mark 5)
That He stopped and placed the weight of all His attention on children when other's brushed them away. (Luke 18).
He notices the things we do in secret. The good and the bad.
He notices every tear that drips down our face and tears through our heart. (Psalm 56:8)
He notices and knows all the meaning and nuances of each word we speak, before we even speak them.
He notices every time we rise and sit, every place we go and every thought that races through our mind.(Psalm 139).
He notices because He is intimately acquainted with and connected to His creation.
He is the ultimate Noticer and we get to "feel our beating hearts" connect to him whenever we stop to really notice Him right where we are.
When step out of ourselves to notice God in all his work and in other's we open ourselves up to love. We see things we haven't before. We see new things beneath the old and familiar. We love anew.
We are able to create new things by highlighting the things our eyes lift out of familiar places.
I really believe that being a noticer is the key to making art and making art out of life.
To the ones that will see, the world opens, deepens, and broadens right where they are.
|My little Noticer :)|