It was a cloudy, rainy day. Nothing out of the ordinary for autumn in Seattle. The clouds were stormy and gray, hovering low over head, a few sprinkles of rain sputtering on our heads. I was lugging the carseat and diaper bag on one arm, holding her hand with the other as we navigated the parking lot. I had glanced at the sky, only to see that it was gray, probably about to rain buckets and soak all of us on our errands. It hadn’t exactly ruined my mood, but I was already dreading the circus act of trying to keep rain off the baby, and the damp, limp hair that was bound to follow me through the afternoon.
Her gaze was fixed on the sky, her expression wide-eyed and rapt with wonder. “Mommy! It is such a BEAUTIFUL day!”
It took me by surprise, and I stopped right there beside her to do a double-take and look at the sky. Had turquoise peaked through the clouds? Was the sun about to come out? When I looked at the sky I saw gray. It took her simple joy to make me step back and really look at the sky.
It was gray, but the clouds were swirling together in curling cues of shaded white. It was raining. Tiny, shimmering drops of water, splashing miraculously out of the sky and onto our faces. It WAS a beautiful day. It wasn’t the ordinary sort of beautiful, with blazing sun and a few puffy white clouds strewn across a cerulean sky. You had to look harder for it, and ignore the distracting discomfort, but it was there. It stopped me in my tracks and changed my mindset in an instant, and for more than an instant.
Who am I to question the beauty of a day the Lord has given us? Here I am, healthy and happy, with a wonderful husband and two beautiful, healthy babies, coats and shoes to keep us warm in the rain, a car to drive, places to go, and the only thing I can really complain about is the color of the sky? Really?! Can I be any more petty and silly?!
Funnily enough, now the clouds serve as a reminder. Every time I see the clouds now–and it IS a lot–I remember that. I remember her exclamation, and I try to see the world through her curious eyes, and with thankfulness.
I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and you, and I think to myself: What a wonderful world.
I see skies of blue and clouds of white. The bright blessed day, and the dark sacred night. And I think to myself: What a wonderful world. ~Bob Thiele and George David Weiss