"The earth has music for those who listen." ~George Santayana
Each morning when I walk to class, I pass a myriad of familiar faces. Bundled in sweatshirts, coats, hats, and gloves, many of them rush from one building to another, wanting to escape Winter's chill. Some listen to music while others converse with friends, and still others trudge forward, cups of coffee clenched tightly in their hands. I think to myself about what our mornings would be like if we listened to the birds instead of our iPods, if we stopped to look at the Hollow instead of talking to friends, or if we walked a little slower, embracing the weather instead of trying to escape its grasp. All around us there is beauty. The snow has mostly melted, and the grass now reflects a brilliant emerald color. Sunshine streams down from the sky, adding a touch of happiness and warmth. Nature surrounds us, yet we too often take nature for granted. We are too focused on getting to our next class, eating, starting our homework, or taking a nap that we ignore the simple pleasures in life.
My senior year of high school, I went to my grandparent's house around Christmastime so I could visit my cousins from Missouri. After dinner, we were all sitting in the living room when my grandma put on her coat. My mom said, "I think Grandma wants to go on a walk," since Grandma could not voice her thoughts. So, my grandma, mom, uncle, two of my cousins, and I put on our coats and headed out into the cold. The sidewalk was slippery, but Grandma held on between my uncle and mom while my cousins and I made a game of sliding past each other on the slick ice. Snow was falling softly, glistening under the lamplight. At one point I turned around and saw my grandma smile, which was becoming a more difficult task due to part of her mouth being paralyzed. It was the happiest I had seen her in awhile. We came back cold and shivering, a fine dusting of snowflakes on our coats and in our hair. That was the last Christmas I was fortunate enough to share with my grandma. I will never regret taking that walk because spending time admiring God's creation with my family gave me an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness, a memory I will cherish my entire lifetime.
My senior year of high school, I went to my grandparent's house around Christmastime so I could visit my cousins from Missouri. After dinner, we were all sitting in the living room when my grandma put on her coat. My mom said, "I think Grandma wants to go on a walk," since Grandma could not voice her thoughts. So, my grandma, mom, uncle, two of my cousins, and I put on our coats and headed out into the cold. The sidewalk was slippery, but Grandma held on between my uncle and mom while my cousins and I made a game of sliding past each other on the slick ice. Snow was falling softly, glistening under the lamplight. At one point I turned around and saw my grandma smile, which was becoming a more difficult task due to part of her mouth being paralyzed. It was the happiest I had seen her in awhile. We came back cold and shivering, a fine dusting of snowflakes on our coats and in our hair. That was the last Christmas I was fortunate enough to share with my grandma. I will never regret taking that walk because spending time admiring God's creation with my family gave me an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness, a memory I will cherish my entire lifetime.