Yesterday I had the absolute pleasure of taking some young friends to the beach. It was the first time they had been to a beach, any beach, it was the first time they had seen the ocean, heard or seen waves, felt the icy Pacific Ocean on their feet. I have been to the beach many times. I played in the sand as a baby, I’ve played the game of chasing waves and being chased by waves, I have swum and snorkeled and bobbed, and generally come to both love and take for granted the experience.

I don’t know about you, but I think this happens a lot in life. We may deeply appreciate something, we may even feel awe in a moment, but familiarity can certainly turn splendor into a norm. Which got me to thinking about how we can, or perhaps how I can, retain that wonder at the world in each moment. Because it is there in each moment, if we are there in each moment.

The beach we went to isn’t so far away from where we live, less than forty miles as the crow flies. But it is across a bridge and over a hill and up and down very windy roads so it takes a while to get there. Then there is a moment where you pass through a notch on the road and the view opens, and then you can’t tell where the sky stops and the ocean starts because it is all just blue as far as you can see. And you gasp if you have never seen this, and you should gasp every time you see it. When we stepped out of the car it was still cool so the salt smell and humidity hung on the air. I know that feeling and that smell, I love it every time I experience it. As I named it though, for my friends to notice, I felt the awesomeness because I was paying attention.

All day everything was new, was a first. It was all things I have done, but it was also a new day, a different day, and so it was new for me too. I paid attention to the way the sand felt under my feet and the delight of the burning warmth followed by the coolness of a gentle wave receding. Waves washing over rocks and creating pools, changing the composition every few minutes. The pull of the current inviting us into the ocean. The bigness of creation and being able to stand as a small part, fully connected.

“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcome me.'” -Matthew 18:1-5, NRSV

The Kingdom of Heaven is not some far off place that we get to as a reward or a consequence. The Kingdom of Heaven is right here, everyday, available. We see it and feel it and share when we get out of our busy, adult brains, our must do and used to and these are the rules, and it’s just business or it’s not personal, or I’ve been there, done that, seen that a million times. A child is humble because they are closer to the earth, because they still wonder, are curious, know how to play. When we can grasp that, we find that we have entered the Kingdom of Heaven, and when we find that is where we are, a place we are invited to live today, we want to invite others in. It is not easy, but it is also not complicated.

My friends, I invite you in the next few days to do something you have done before, but slower, noticing all of the steps of what you are doing, all of the experience of that moment. What can you see for the first time, as if it was the first time. Can you name what you love? Can you invite yourself to wonder a little more deeply at the thing that you do that you appreciate, that you know you like, but perhaps you forgot how awesome it is. It does not have to be the ocean. It can be a flower, or a bird, or a meal with someone you care for. It can be a cool glass of water just when you need it, or a smile returned. The Kingdom is here right now, my prayer today is that we have the heart to see it.

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