The last several days have been a whirlwind. Friday morning I headed out to Seattle to accompany our youngest son back to his second year of college. This falls in the realm of: Where did the time go? It was a short trip of two days. Factoring in the time change, it has made for a fuzzy sense of time. What day is it? Why am I sleepy right now? Questions like these are dancing around the frontal lobe.

Today as I moved from meeting to meeting, I have recognized the privilege with which I was able to do such a thing. Beyond the privilege, there is also the speed, the sense of entering another part of the country and the gift of noticing how, what seems novel and interesting to me about life in another place, is something those who witness it daily, might find mundane. I, for one, could not imagine taking for granted the daily passage of ferries, much less the beauty of Puget Sound. I cannot imagine coming to see the color and eccentricities of Pike Place Market as anything short of astounding.

And yet there are probably people who walk past these sights daily and do not notice. There are probably those who rush from work to home, from school to their car, without thinking twice about the beauty and wonder that is theirs to behold. What we have on our plate, in our sight, often is overlooked in our every day rounds. We simply don’t have the presence of mind to see.

That is why my experience on the flight out was so memorable. As we were approaching the Seattle airport, the pilot came over the sound system to say, that if we looked out the windows to our left, we would be able to see Mt. Rainier. If we looked out the right side of the plane, we would be able to see both Mt. Hood and Mt. Baker.
Sure enough! There they were. Above the clouds that settled over the ground below, the sun was shining boldly on these signature mountains.

But the best part was watching the people strain their necks to see these massive, snow-covered peaks. My seat partner, a stranger to me, leaned back and pointed out the window letting me in on the sight. He smiled broadly and pointed out the window sharing the gift of this moment with me. I looked around as others around the plane made similar gestures. Smiles were all around as we shared in this mid-air glimpse of majesty and wonder.

I was reminded of a few lines of a Mary Oliver poem:
There are things you can’t reach. But
you can reach out to them, and all day long.
The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of God.
And it can keep you as busy as anything else, and happier.
…….I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.
Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around
as though with your arms open.

I hope I always have the presence of mind to see the things in my own daily life with the fresh eyes of a visitor, even a tourist. I hope I see, open my arms and point, all the time wearing a big smile.