I never realized how quickly a tree bloomed.

My whole life I have never been one to be still. Always moving, always producing, always proving my value and worth.

Keep me around. I will be useful.

This year has been an unlearning of all that.

One way I am leaning into this unlearning is sitting outside on my back porch in the morning, usually with a cup of coffee, sans phone, sans journal. Blankets are allowed if it is chilly.

I am learning to rest before I work, not the other way around. Rest is no longer something earned after working hard. It is prioritized above it, and work flows from it.

I am noticing the squirrels and the birds, how they chase each other in the morning. I am noticing the trees and the grass.

Two days ago the trees in our backyard had one blossom on them.

Today there are hundreds of leaves.

The trees have been busy. And often I am too hurried, too rushed to notice.

Matthew 6:28 — “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.”

“Watching grass grow” is supposed to be the slowest thing imaginable. But apparently trees can go from two leaves to two hundred in the span of a weekend.

Which makes me wonder how many other things in my life are changing right in front of me that I simply don’t see.

Not because they are hidden.
But because I am not paying attention.

What else am I missing?

What has my attention instead?

And is it worth it?

But not this year.

The practice of sitting and resting and watching and noticing brings the gift of seeing the small changes. Of being present with the world. Returning to the same place each morning and discovering all the ways it is different.

This gift is available to everyone. The question is whether I am present enough to receive it.

Seeing the purple flowers in the grass.
Seeing the red tips on the bushes.
Seeing the white blossoms in the trees.

It’s a small gift, this noticing. It’s not flashy or fancy. But it is necessary.

Grounding.

A reminder that I am but a small cog in the wheel of life. The world will keep spinning without my constant motion.

And yet, if I slow down long enough…
if I listen…
creation seems more than willing to share its quiet mysteries.