We have all seen those interesting cell phone videos capturing those remarkable times when a child gets out of bed in the middle of the night to snuggle up with their puppy. Maybe you have seen the photo of a bear trying to climb into a home or the photo of an alligator standing in the middle of a living room. Thanks to personal cameras we are seeing things we have never seen before. Yet I seldom feel the need to carry a phone when taking a walk. A phone is not extremely useful on our country gravel road where cell coverage is weak. However, during a recent early morning walk, I learned a new way to think about cameras.
The last few days had been hot. I decided to walk while the sun’s rays were cool and inviting. My footsteps were purposeful, but my mind wandered. Sparkling dewdrops that faded from the corn stocks almost went unnoticed as a tiny spotted fawn appeared on the crest of the hill in front of me. Trying not to frighten this little fella, I slowed my stride down to a stop. But it seemed the fawn’s curiosity won over any feelings of apprehension. Leaping through the corn stocks, he stopped a few feet in front of me.
Slowly turning my head, I scanned the scenery for an angry doe. It did not take but a moment to become captivated by this adorable little fawn. He had sleek legs, enormous eyes, and lashes that would put Maybelline out of business. That is when I wished that I had brought my camera. This would have been an awesome picture to share with others. We stood together for quite some time before he seemed to lose interest. Tilting his head, he looked up at me, then slowly began to walk into the long grass on the other side of the road.
The rest of the way home, I had an extra bounce in my step as I sang the words to a Sarah McLachlan’s song. “It’s just another ordinary miracle today.” This fawn was not ordinary nor was it something any of us would have missed. But how often had I pass right by ordinary miracles without giving them a second thought?
The trinket I found that morning is that sometimes it is best not to have a camera or a phone. Realizing those times I spent behind the camera lens had filtered out details and emotions that will never be mine. But on that morning, I was able to soak up every facet and feeling. I learned sometimes trivial real-life occurrences can far outweigh any grandiose virtual reality. After all, –it’s the mundane everyday routines that bring “ordinary” miracles.
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