(Photo Source)

Today, I’m grateful to be hosting the words of fellow blogger, Elizabeth Marshall.  Won’t you give her a warm welcome as she shares her heart?

I am measuring beauty and grace in
increments of fragmented seconds. Small flakes of wonder, and flecks of time
the size of a radish seed are grabbing and holding my attention, turning my
chin with fingers, with skin. The hand of God calls me to look.  The Trinity corals me into a hemmed in place
for my soul to rest. The balm is of his creation. In this new system of
measurement I find lost artifacts. Code them and hold them as sacred – privileged
to be awakened to see what was unseen, I abide in him more.
I am an archivist of the now.

The dragonfly in the garden looked
like an adolescent. Thin and frail, if he flew slant he would become a line.
Fueled by a passion to stay alive, to feed on the nutrients of his world, he
left in a blink. A logogram of wonder. A sign of the miraculous. Punctuating
the exclamation from my heart of the extraordinary ordinary.
Morning Glories wrap around my patinated back stoop railing. They open and shut, winking and nodding the sweetest of good day’s and good night’s. Slowly going into and out of the heat, they remind me of January’s curtain of dormancy. They cause me to recall – there is quiet, there are pauses. In other seasons, there is a waiting. My senses awake in a nod. The breath and depth of creation’s unfathomable design, brilliant and alive, is newly paraded on stage. She is a humble peacock. Humility inhabits the folds of her feathered covering. Brilliant and illuminated, her beauty is not hidden easily and it has awakened me. My ears are unplugged, my eyes are re-focused on minutia.

I am awake at the wheel.
In this season, the garden is my sacred place for abiding. God reveals himself to me there. I pluck a flower or pick a berry. Sitting by my newest friends – my rooster and his hens – I settle into the quiet. I study the intricate patterning of their plumage and marvel.

I am both a child and an aging

I see as a child but with the
hindsight and maturity of one who is in the second half of life. My life is aging
in the flesh and in my bones, but the child in me is present still to share in
the partaking. I am privileged to have a second chance – to see with the lens of grace, to gather and tuck petals and feathers and seconds of life into my place of remembering. I dissect and review and reframe as a poet.  I lean into this living fully present, waiting on beauty and glory. I see glimpses, take sips, drink from the cup of his offering.
I am Rip Van Winkle, awakened to the beauty of the now.

Reacquainted with Father God the
creator, I add a dimension to my faith by watching him unveil and reveal a
softness and gentleness. Masterpiece after masterpiece says, “I am here and love you. I have made art for
your soul. I understand your love for my heavens and my earth. I created you to
marvel at it. And it to be marveled at by you.

In a wink, a blink, and a nod we can see it, savor it and ingest it. Or we can live with a beating heart and flowing blood, alive, but not engaged; here, but not present.

For now, I am awake at the wheel as
I live out my days in my fifties. Fifty six years of making memories in this
life – gratitude attends my soul as I thank God for calling me into a season of
seeing, recording and savoring.

Each second, each wink, blink and nod, there are thousands of signs of God’s love.

Abide with me.

Slow with me.

Find time to see anew with me.

This is my passion.

To find the beauty in the simple and
to gather, handful by handful, the overflow of miracle.



Stone and leaf.

Skyward, a pastel painted sky fades
and gives way to winking and blinking stars.

And I nod.

Yes. Thank you. Grace.

At the tips of my toes the Cicada
springs up through the grass, joining the symphony of the ebony night.

There are wonders, miracles, and signs of God in every wink, blink and nod.  I have been slow to see, but I rejoice that I am now awake.  Won’t you join me in the partaking?

Elizabeth Wynne Marshall is a writer, poet, and blogger. A lover of grace & the sea, she spends her days living and writing out the beautiful ordinary in a life lived by the sea. Her words may be found at her writing home, elizabeth w. marshall, poetry & prose through a lens of grace. On twitter & instagram, she is @graceappears.

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Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.

What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God? 

That’s my proposal – that we gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days.  

You’re invited to link-up a brief post about a small moment of wonder.  Don’t worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right – you’re welcome to come as you are.  

While you’re here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment.      

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