It was a beautifully cool Colorado summer night—the perfect invitation for a walk at dusk. And so, we embraced the opportunity.
Our pace invited exploration, and we charted a path through a wooded section of our neighborhood. This area was especially intriguing because we’d spotted owls here before—but not for months.
Mary, who normally walks at a brisk, healthy pace, set aside her reputation in favor of the chance to glimpse our feathered neighbor.
I looked, too. Carefully. But not like Mary.
“I see an owl!” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet passion, enthusiasm, and delight. “On one of the low branches of the tree on the right.” Then, her classic response: “Thank you, Jesus.”
And yes—there it was. As though painted on an artist’s canvas: a breathtakingly beautiful Great Horned Owl.
We stood for a while, watching with gratitude. Hoping for a hoot. But silence was the language of the evening.
Author Frederick Buechner once wrote, “To love God means to pay attention, be mindful, be open to the possibility that God is with you in ways that, unless you have your eyes open, you may never glimpse.”
Pay attention.
Spoken not as a reprimand, but as an invitation.
Look and see. Pause and reflect. Even with the sounds of traffic, lawn equipment, and the ever-present drone of planes overhead from Denver International… pay attention.
Mary does this well. In part because her focal point is different than mine. In fact, moments later, I saw something before she did: a freshly crushed snake on the road as we made our way back home.
I’m making sure I don’t trip, while Mary is making sure she
doesn’t miss a sacred glimpse.
I’m avoiding failure.
Mary is embracing opportunity.
Her eyes are tuned to capture the unexpected—always with delight. With wonder. With gratitude.
Pay attention.
Not to the headlines, or
the commentary, or the podcasts, or the markets, or the threats…
But to the confident assurance that God is present.
Always. Everywhere.
In the cool of a summer evening walk.
And in the midst of brokenness, pain, confusion, even desperation.
God said it plainly to Job:
“Pay attention, O Job, listen to me;
be silent, and I will speak.”
Sometimes He speaks through an owl.
Sometimes through a “low whisper” (1
Kings 19:12).
Sometimes with laughter.
Sometimes through tears.
Sometimes on a global stage.
Sometimes in your backyard.
Calibrate your gaze.
Adjust your focal point.
Catch a glimpse of His love.
P.S. – Happy Birthday, Mary! Thanks for paying attention the many ways that you
do.
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