Midlife’s quiet loss.
And how awe and wonder help us feel simultaneously small and utterly alive.
If you’re reading this in your inbox, thank you. I know giving someone access to our inbox is not a small thing. While you’re here, take a moment to hit the 💚 button and even send this to a friend you think would enjoy it. And I’ve thrown out some interesting questions you can noodle and answer in the comments. Hugs, Niki
When we're little, we're amazed by everything.
We sink onto our haunches to watch ants carrying leaves that dwarf them across the garden path and examine our belly buttons with the intensity of a surgeon.
We splash in puddles for the sheer delight of it and collect interesting stones because … well, they’re just super cool aren’t they?!!.
But somewhere along the way, life gets faster. We get faster and more disconnected.
There's always somewhere to be, more things to do than we have capacity for, and someone who needs us.
Our inboxes are full, the laundry basket’s overflowing, and the fridge has nothing but leftovers in it.
Midlife’s quiet loss.
We’re meant to lift weights, eat more protein, walk 10k steps and turn off our screens an hour before bed, only to wake up and do it all again tomorrow.
We become so good at getting through the day that we stop expecting it to surprise us.
And perhaps that's one of the quiet losses of midlife. Not that life has become less beautiful. But we don’t notice it as much anymore.
So today, before we rush on, let's slow down together and listen to these words from Psalm 19. You can listen in on this week’s podcast episode too HERE too.
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge
Unlike ours, creation’s declaration isn't intermittent. Which makes me think it never stops noticing the awe and wonder of its beauty.
Creation has a way of waking us up.
Maybe that's why Jesus spent so much time pointing people towards nature. Birds. Seeds. Vines. Fig trees. Wildflowers. He knew creation has a way of waking us up.
And perhaps God's presence is more like light than fireworks, not demanding attention but making attention possible.
I’ve been noodling the idea of attention, noticing, and awe and wonder lately. How it can change everything—how we see ourselves and God, how it helps us feel both small and utterly alive at the same time, and the inner craving we all have to put ourselves in its path.
Tell me friend,
What does awe and wonder do for you or to you?
What stops you noticing the extraordinary all around us?
When was the last time you were astonished to the point of feeling re-enchanted with life?
Until next time, my friend.
Niki
xx
You can listen to the full episode HERE and gift yourself 10 mins thinking about light and being with God.