In the last seven days I’ve seen so many beautiful things: California sunrises and sunsets, rolling desert mountains, palatial homes, the Pacific Ocean, the posh resort where the classic movie Some Like It Hot was filmed, the San Diego Zoo, Balboa Park, the Coronado Bridge.
But yesterday, between trips, I was home for 24 hours and spent one of them walking through the park. The leaves on the trees were brilliant, and I took picture after picture, trying to capture their beauty without much success. But when I left the park for home, walking on an ordinary small town sidewalk, I looked up at a tree so richly yellow it gleamed.
My heart skipped a beat, then I walked on. Seconds later, I retraced my steps, unwilling to abandon the shining moment. Ignoring the cars passing by, I aimed my camera up until the viewfinder was a solid mass of gold, and clicked. When I reviewed my pictures later, this one – the one I almost didn’t take, contained all the beauty of an Iowa fall morning.
In the past few days I’ve seen oceans and mountains, great cities and marvelous feats of engineering. But nothing has been more lovely than the pure gold I saw on an ordinary tree on an ordinary street in my ordinary little town.
The ordinary blessings, if I take time to see and appreciate them, are the greatest blessings of all.
