My office window faces my neighborhood street. If I look past the two elm trees immediately in front of the window, I can see the flowers I planted with Bethany, Jonathan, and Virginia last fall: pansies, ranunculus, beloved daffodils, and more I don’t know the names of. I can see the blue bonnets and the clear white and deep, velvety purple irises planted by the precious previous owner of this house.

As I’ve sat here working the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed the little toddler on his push bike accompanied by his mom holding his younger sister. They walk past about three or four times a day. There is tender beauty in his big smile and innocent exuberance (as he waved at the horse trailer last week as we drove past him). I’ve noticed the older lady shuffle by, her aged pup following behind. (I shall pick a flower for her today, when I see her.) Just now, there is a dad pulling his two girls in pink in their red Flyer wagon. He smiles and waves at the mom passing the other direction with her ginger-headed kiddo in hand. Earlier this morning, a young boy about ten wearing a Tigger suit bounced past the house.

I woke up this morning (more) burdened. Stressed. Grieving(?). Irritable. Frustrated. But then I looked out the office window and was given the grace to make note of what I’ve been privileged to see this morning and over the past couple of weeks.

So in these (temporary?) trying times, let us be diligent to look for and see the simple, deep beauty out our “front office windows”. For the beauty that is there has always been there and will continue to be there. We’re getting to see it more because we’ve stopped, we’ve slowed down, we’re looking out the window (albeit as we sit on long conference calls).

Oh, that this beauty, this (forced?) pause, this strange time would call me to drop my cares at His feet and rest in the Truth that He who made all these beautiful things I’m seeing out my office window also holds the whole world in His hands.