Until I looked down.
My feet disappeared, blanketed in kisses of pink sorrel, reminding me its not the redwoods that matter so much. It’s not who sees me, but what I see.
What I take time to notice.
Who I remember to be.
Which is nothing more and nothing less than who God made me to be.
Ever reaching heavenward.
Ever remembering it is God whom I follow and not man.
It is the Holy Spirit whisper I crane to hear–not the clash and crash of the manufactured world around me.
Do you hear it?
Look at the flowers around your feet.
Lest we forget.
We must remember.
Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives. (Galatians 5:25 MSG)