I am beginning to notice what I notice. Wherever I am -- in the car, in a store, at the church building, at home, in a restaurant -- I hear the small electronic noises. Ringtones are ubiquitous. Every object that harnesses electrons seems to beep: cameras, washing machines, french fry cookers, cash registers, old fashioned telephones, iPads, laptops, alarm systems.
I notice those beeps. It might be for me. Maybe it's my phone.
OK, worse case: If I don't get to my phone quickly enough, it goes to voicemail. I'll get the message. The urgency of those beeps has nothing to do with their importance. But I hear them. At some level, I must be listening for them.
But there are other things I need to tune in to: facial expressions, tones of voice, the details of my daughter's day, crickets singing, squirrels talking, the quiet of the early morning. If I miss those things, they don't go to voicemail. I may miss the message forever.
And often those messages are more important.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Venus Transit
I have been looking forward to today's Venus transit since I first heard about it last week. The geek in me loves this science stuff.
So this afternoon I wanted to see it live. Since I don't have any welder's glasses, I planned to watch it with sunlight shining through a hole onto a board. Theoretically, the image of the sun is projected through the hole onto the board. This works with a solar eclipse. Should work with a Venus transit, too.
About 5:45 this afternoon, it was partly cloudy. Unfortunately, the part with the clouds was blocking the sun. I waited, not too patiently, for a break in the clouds. Finally the moment came. I went outside and used my low-tech watching device.
I looked carefully at the image of the sun projected on my 1 x 8 board. Just looked like a round spot of sunlight. I strained to see that tiny speck, making its way across the face of the sun. I knew what to look for...but I could not find it.
Sometimes spiritual things feel like that to me. I eagerly anticipate God's intervention. I prepare to see it. I wait for the right time. I work through frustration and work around obstacles. Then, when I finally expect to see God at work, I can't see it. I have to believe that God is there, doing something, even though I can't see it.
And so, like the Venus transit, I believe that it is happening, even though I can't see it. It's called walking by faith, not by sight. *sigh* I know there is value in it. But when I really can see God at work, that's a thrill!
So this afternoon I wanted to see it live. Since I don't have any welder's glasses, I planned to watch it with sunlight shining through a hole onto a board. Theoretically, the image of the sun is projected through the hole onto the board. This works with a solar eclipse. Should work with a Venus transit, too.
About 5:45 this afternoon, it was partly cloudy. Unfortunately, the part with the clouds was blocking the sun. I waited, not too patiently, for a break in the clouds. Finally the moment came. I went outside and used my low-tech watching device.
I looked carefully at the image of the sun projected on my 1 x 8 board. Just looked like a round spot of sunlight. I strained to see that tiny speck, making its way across the face of the sun. I knew what to look for...but I could not find it.
Sometimes spiritual things feel like that to me. I eagerly anticipate God's intervention. I prepare to see it. I wait for the right time. I work through frustration and work around obstacles. Then, when I finally expect to see God at work, I can't see it. I have to believe that God is there, doing something, even though I can't see it.
And so, like the Venus transit, I believe that it is happening, even though I can't see it. It's called walking by faith, not by sight. *sigh* I know there is value in it. But when I really can see God at work, that's a thrill!