Undervalued. I took for granted growing up in Seattle, Washington – a city where creation shines around and through human ingenuity. I undervalued living in such an astoundingly beautiful place in the Pacific Northwest where God seemed to be showing off through the full display of mountains, water, and wildlife.

As I have been gifted the ability to travel to various places around the world, mostly on mission trips as one of the privileged white Americans swooping in to do some good (but probably doing more damage), perhaps the true mission of those experiences was an awakening to the breadth and depth of creation. From the hospitality of Ukraine to the immensity of India; from the longing of Romania to the fragility of El Salvador; from the readiness of Mexico to the hope of Guatemala; from the strength of Puerto Rico to the simplicity of Marvell, Arkansas – those moments with those people in those places have awaken me to a more sacred relationship with creation in all its diversity. Even from the past, these experiences still invite me to the ongoing practice of remembering that God’s creation is good, that we are all standing together on holy ground.

The average American spends 95 percent of their life inside. I can get stuck inside too much during the day, which means I also get stuck too much in my own head. So every night before I hunker down for bed, I go outside for a few moments to gaze at the stars (if they are visible), and the moon (if it is visible), to maybe even catch the faintest glimpse of our galaxy — one of two trillion in the observable universe. It’s a simple practice I started doing early in the pandemic, mostly to remind myself to breathe, and that I am part of something so much bigger. I also find myself feeling smaller, much smaller — I am one creature in the midst of a vast creation, rather than the center of anything.

There’s a song about it…

Go outside and praise the God
Who mapped the stars out in the sky
And gather ’round with those who love and sing
He is our king
No one should be left out

No one should be left out
If you have air to breathe
And hear your call to sing

It seems that maybe God can get out attention easier when we are outside in creation. Especially if we are really outside — like in the wilderness, the mountains, the desert, away from all the noise.

In this world we inhabit, we are used to distractions. We are so used to doing, that we often forgotten about being. Which makes it easy to miss the beauty of things, of people, of places, of moments. The world seems to spin too fast for us to slow down, but slowing down is just the thing that would help us feel grounded. After all, we all just want a little more of the beauty of life, don’t we? I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world. I want to be present in it. I want to enjoy creation in all its beauty – from the first light of the morning to the glow of the moon in the night sky, and all the sounds and creations and laughter and conversations and music and play and discoveries and faces and meals in between. Like what Mary Oliver said: “My work is loving the world, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.”