In the town I live, these giant boats that are called freighters travel through a water channel in between cities. They're usually hauling some sort of supply back and forth. They probably go to Pittsburgh, New York, and even make their way around the great lakes eventually docking in Chicago.
These machines are massive. They're essentially the size of the Titanic, give or take. They typically range anywhere from 500-1000 feet long. They are a sight to see.
When one passes through the channel, you'll find everyone along the water doing the same thing. They all stop and stare. At times it feels like you can't take your eyes off the watercraft.
They glide their way, silently and slowly, through the water until they disappear in the distance. And it doesn't matter how many of these you see, you're always caught off guard when another one comes through.
Few things in life have that effect on us. Nature has a way of capturing our attention unlike anything else. Campfires seem to put us in a similar daze.
I've also noticed lately that I can't stop studying my children's faces and the way they behave. I look at their eyes, the funny shapes their mouth makes. I look at their puffy cheeks, their little noses.
I can't stop looking at them. They study the world around them. They process it in different ways. They wonder. Their eyes constantly darting around. Full of pretty colors. They capture me in gazes and thoughts.
I used to watch fire and just wonder where the beginning of it was. I thought fire must have roots, or it must come from somewhere. It can't just dance on a log forever. It's beautiful, warm, and even dangerous when uncontrolled.
The freighter also has me in awe every time I see one. How could men build something that big? It's majestic in a way. A powerful presence traveling through water. Impossible to ignore.
My kids do that to me. I take prolonged looks all the time. It's like I'm afraid to miss what I'm seeing. Unlike the freighter, or the fire, you can't re-create what they have to offer. I'm trying to process everything that they are, right now, in the current moment. They each are 1 of 1. And it's a sight worth taking a few extra seconds for.
I think life gives us these moments in awe. Certain things are so massive—like mountains—or so mysterious—like the stars—that we usually can't take our eyes off of them. It's like we're looking to see if something emerges. Or if that thing we're seeing is actually real.
God keeps reminding me, sometimes in subtle ways, that children are special. And that they're not to be scoffed at, or overlooked, or ignored. They are a gift. A sight to see. And they will teach you a lot, if you're paying attention.
It's part of the reason I reference my children often. They give me so many reflective moments that it's difficult not to mention them. It feels like I've learned more from them than I learned in 30 years of not knowing them.
And like a fire dancing on a log, I feel like I can't look away.
What makes you stop and stare? Is there anything in your life that has you lost in a trance or in constant awe?
“My kids do that to me. I take prolonged looks all the time. It's like I'm afraid to miss what I'm seeing. Unlike the freighter, or the fire, you can't re-create what they have to offer. I'm trying to process everything that they are, right now, in the current moment. They each are 1 of 1. And it's a sight worth taking a few extra seconds for.” I absolutely love this paragraph. It make me want to strive to be more attentive to fleeting moments with people I love.