Last weekend we went to Quechee Gorge for a little hiking/sightseeing. In typical fashion, I hauled my camera along so that I could take the infamous "about a billion" pictures that my girls seem to think accompany every activity we enjoy. (They're not really exaggerating that much, btw. What can I say?. . . . ;-) And as usual I was very glad to have my camera, because there was MUCH beauty to try to capture on film. I took all of the "normal" shots that just about everyone else in Quechee took that day--the aerial view of the gorge, the waterfalls, the rocky basin, etc.--but as most people were putting away their cameras to hike back up the mountain, I kept mine out. Here's why--
As we hiked down the mountain through a pretty thick covering of trees, I kept finding myself drawn to the one leaf in the midst of hundreds of others exactly like it that had a tiny ray of light squeezing through the trees to illuminate it and then burst through the other side. These leaves themselves weren't any different than the many unlit ones surrounding them, and yet they were so much more radiant and gorgeous than their neighbors in those moments of light.
I couldn't help but wonder if that same principal might apply to me. If I truly allow the ONE TRUE LIGHT to illuminate and then burst through me, will people be more drawn to me? Or more accurately, to Christ in me? I have to believe the answer is yes.
So I took pictures. LOTS of pictures. To remind me of the effects of LIGHT and how it stirred my affections and drew my attention to ordinary things.