As a very cautious, rule-following teenager, the prospect was a bit out of my comfort zone. A group of friends wanted to go mudding. Having grown up in the country, I had seen muddy trucks my whole life, but I had never been in one when it acquired all of that mud.
A guy in my class who was known for his propensity toward all things fun wanted my friends and I to experience mudding for ourselves. Now, these friends and I were certainly flannel-wearing, S’mores-loving gals, but not at all risk takers or thrill seekers. In fact, a thrill for us consisted of reading about Mr. Darcy and Lizzy in Pride and Prejudice. We had no need for getting dirty and possibly hurt.
And yet he made it sound irresistible to us, and as he was such a nice guy, we believed him when he promised he would not let us get hurt. “You will have so much fun!” He gave me his word as he held out his hand to help me up into the back of his pickup truck. “Trust me,” he entreated. And I lifted my hand up to meet his because I did. I trusted him.
I must admit, it was rather electrifying to slide around on the floor of his truck bed as he drove around making circles in the unpaved parking lot, the dirt swirling around us like some sort of exotic fairy dust. It was exciting to be so out of control, but to trust that the one who was driving was totally in charge. He knew what he was doing.
So my friends and I screamed and laughed as the wind took our breath away. And when the dust settled, we were fine (other than a bruise or two from banging around inside the truck bed). The driver had kept his promise. When he helped us out of the truck, we were a bit shaky from our adventure, but full of wonder.
Years ago I found this quote by E.B. White on a journal in a boutique, and I loved it so much I took a picture of it: Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder. I came upon that picture this week as I was completing the project I have been putting off for years: decluttering our digital photo collection (starting from 2005 until now).
If you know me, you know how much I love decluttering my house. I am forever making piles of stuff to take to Goodwill. I love getting rid of old things almost as much as I love buying new things. (Almost.) But cleaning out digital photos? No thank you!
In fact, that is exactly what I have been telling my husband for years. Each year, while performing his annual duty of cleaning out files on the computer, he would offer up this project as a suggestion to me. And every year, I would just say, “No thanks!” But this year was the year I finally said, “Yes.”
So I began this enormous task. We had over 40,000 digital photos, and after months of dutifully (and actually rather enjoyably, I must admit) purging thousands of unnecessary photos, I really got into it. And if pressed to come up with one word to describe this experience, I would choose the word wonder.
For the project I wouldn’t touch for years, I would have expected other words: perhaps drudgery, monotony, overwhelming, or burdensome, to name a few. But wonder, it is.
As I perused each year, broken down into months, of photos, it was like a movie of the last 14 years of my life. I watched my daughter grow each month. I saw pictures of her and her cousins that I had not even remembered taking. I re-visited precious little outfits I loved so much, toys and beloved stuffed animals who always featured in the pictures with her.
And the wonder on the faces of my nephews, niece, and my daughter in early childhood – as they discovered sunsets, sand, the ocean, bugs, fresh fruit, wonderful children’s books, bouncy castles, amusement park rides, birthday parties, cartoons, and just about every other little thing – both broke and put me back together again.
For how often, as adults, do we intentionally sit in awe and wonder at anything? Kids can live life with wide eyes and ready smiles. They can be giggle boxes, always on the lookout for fun, because they aren’t weighed down by the cares of the world. Ideally, children don’t have to carry adult burdens. They can be free to chase wonder because they are placing their trust in their parents or caregivers to take care of all of the meals, bills, and the complications life can bring.
Another thing I noticed while purging digital photos was Matt’s and my styles over the years, both in clothing and in home decor. I cringed at some of my hairstyles and shoes, at the amount of home decor I hoarded before I conceded that less is more. I recalled the trips we took, the laughs we shared. Joy that was bigger than our hearts could contain. How we have aged, both inside and out.
My heart squeezed at pictures of beloved family members who are no longer here with us. At pictures that, while no one else would have known what was going on in my heart at the time, I remembered hardships and brokenness. But also, wonder.
I felt wonder at the frailty of our lives, reduced to a bunch of photos no one wants to organize. Wonder at how fleeting childhood is, how momentous our trials seem but how momentary they really are.
But mostly, wonder at all God has brought us through. Wonder at His faithfulness. Just in this past year, He has brought us through so much. And at times, it has seemed unfair. I have heard rumblings from others all around at this feeling of unfairness as well, with those suffering from the Covid-19 virus and the lockdowns and so many businesses and individuals in financial straits, special events being cancelled.
And honestly, for so many, these past couple years were hard even before all of the chaos of the virus hit. That was just the icing on the cake, in the worst way. Penelope Stokes says we often look at fairness as everyone being given the same amount of cookies. She says, Fairness doesn’t necessarily mean that the cookies are divided evenly. It means that we trust God to do the dividing.
Which brings me back to the friend who took a few of us careful girls mudding in his truck all those years ago. Was it the smartest, most productive thing in the world to do? No. Could he have accidentally hurt us, even though he was doing all he could in his own power to keep us safe? Yes.
But even so, we put our trust in him. How much more, then, can we afford to put our trust in God, who can do all things? When we go through heartache, we wonder why, and I think that’s okay to a certain point. Sometimes we learn why, and we grow from that. Other times, however, we grow from not ever really knowing why, but in trusting that God has a plan and a purpose.
I stepped down from the truck bed that day with a sense of wonder because I (Type-A me, person-who-likes-to-be-in-control me) had handed the reins over to my friend. He was driving. I was just along for the ride. That trust produced a wonder in me that day because even though I felt out of control, flying around on the floor of that truck bed, I could enjoy the ride knowing someone else was in control.
I want to always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder because I know we have a God who is full of wonder and His ways are full of wonder. He is worthy to be trusted. And when I am full of His wonder, I am empowered to live a life of wonder and to share that wonder with others.
Perhaps this is why I love the book of Psalms so much – because it’s full of wonder. Just a couple examples here:
Many, Lord my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare (Psalm 40:5).
The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy (Psalm 65:8).
And finally, we are called to God’s wonder, according to 1 Peter 2:9: But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
I love what Paul David Tripp has to say about awe, or wonder: Only when the awe of God rules your heart will you be able to have joy even when people disappoint you and life gets hard.
Awe means your heart will be filled more with a sense of blessing than with a sense of want.
You will be daily blown away by what you have been given rather than being constantly disturbed by what you think you need. Awe produces gratitude, gratitude instills joy, and the harvest of joy is contentment.
The photo at the top of this article is one of the treasures I found while cleaning out our digital photos. It features two of my nephews and my daughter running along the beach right before sunset. They had already played on the beach and in the pool and had already had their baths (Kendall is even in her jammies!), but the beach beckoned, and they answered the call. Such a beautiful picture of seizing the day in wonder (with the exception of the seagulls they terrorized in their quest. Sorry birds!).
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