One morning in mid summer, I headed out for some time to myself
on the trails of Fontenelle Forest in Bellevue, Nebraska. As
usual, I stopped in at the Visitor Center to pay the entrance
fee, then got back in my car and drove a couple miles down a long
and winding road to the quieter back entrance.
It was a typical warm and humid summer day in Nebraska. Starting
out on the lush green trail, I was already uncomfortably warm.
The bugs were everywhere: mosquitoes, gnats, flies, bees, you
name it. I followed the stream trail, which made its way through
four-foot high grass. I tried to enjoy the setting but had to
constantly fan away the bugs in front of my face. I grew
increasingly frustrated.
Eventually becoming exasperated with the bugs, I stopped dead in
my tracks and waved my arms all around while turning around in a
circle. I accentuated my attack on the insects with a slight
growl to alleviate my anger. Just then the whole world moved and
went tearing around me. After my initial shock, I saw what I had
missed the moment before.
It seems that a deer had been nestled in the tall grass just one
foot, (one foot!) from where I stood. I missed it because of my
preoccupation with the insects which I believed were bent on
ruining my morning. When I started making such a fit, the deer
was forced to abandon its spot. It leaped in the air right
before my eyes, literally, and dashed off for better cover.
It was too late. I missed it. Now I was attentive and ready to
see what was around me, but the sight that might have been seen
was gone. It killed me to know that I missed the enjoyment of
being so close to wildlife! Immediately I wondered what else I
was missing, and not just there on the trail. I wondered how the
bothersome bugs of my life kept me from noticing really important
stuff. This has become a life lesson that I’ve remembered often.
It’s affected my visits with my Grandma, the time alone with my
husband, and get-togethers with friends. It’s affected my ‘to
do’ lists. My motto is “If I don’t do it, will anybody notice?”
If it doesn’t ‘add value’, I simply cross it off my list. I’ve
learned from my mistake.
One day this summer while visiting Colorado, my husband and I sat
quietly on the bank of a pond and watched swallows dance in the
air to catch flying prey. I was amazed at the sharp changes of
directions they could make in mid-air. After I sat there for
quite some time wearing my bright green hiking hat, an equally
green hummingbird flew up to within two inches (two inches!) of
my eyes, gave me a look over, and flew away. He was gone, having
paused only for one full second, but this time I didn’t miss it.
I remember exactly what that hummingbird looked like.
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