I saw something on TikTok several weeks ago that—as most aesthetically pleasing reels do—inspired me.

This wasn’t a how-to-finger-knit-a-blanket-and-matching-pillow video or a how-to-make-sushi-at-home video or even one of those lovely ASMR restocking videos (I long for my refrigerator to look that flawless). It was actually a short reel that portrayed some lovely soul’s month of April. The caption simply read romanticizing my life.

Clips of going for bike rides on a gravel path, walking the dog, pouring juice into a clean glass cut from one snippet to the next. Later it occurred to me how absolutely simple each of those tasks were, but how lovely they all looked.

So I wanted to try it.

Of course, I (like I’m certain most of us) must be extra intentional about these sort of things. While I’ve remembered every now and then that I need to be recording small clips of my day, the only thing I’ve managed to capture of the month of May is some Saturday morning avocado toast and coffee. (Which was actually quite beautiful and delicious.)

But then again, who says in order to romanticize our life, we have to take pictures and videos and turn it into a reel? I don’t have to prove any of it happened. Although it’s nice to have the evidence to look back on, I’ve been meaning to live as many moments–intentionally romanticized–as I can.

Which means, I’ve fallen in love with the way the wind softly rustles through branches of full green trees.

I’ve been sitting outside on my front porch as I eat dinner and wait for twilight.

I’ve never appreciated the feeling of cool bedsheets as much as I do at the end of a warm spring day.

These things are the little things, but somehow the things that have made the biggest difference in how I go about my day.

And I haven’t even mentioned the candles or the rain soaked sidewalks or playing the violin again or the soft lighting in the grocery store or the black and white cat that’s been hiding among the rosebushes or the vibrant Western tanagers my supervisor pointed out as we were leaving the office earlier this week.

Or how my Rottweiler looked so warm and lazy last Sunday afternoon so I laid on the concrete beside him and he pushed his giant paws against my chest and I rested my forehead against his head and marveled at how the deep bond between humans and animals is such a beautiful gift from God.

And as I write these words I discover how so many of these simple little things are really not just simple, but they’re glimpses of heaven that God bestowed upon us so this Earth—despite all its immeasurable pain and heartache—still delights us even in the darkest of times.

Sometimes it’s so unlike us to seek out the beauty. Sometimes it’s easy to grow accustomed to worrying about the summer fires and politicians and diseases of body and soul that choke away life.

But I’ve found myself drawing closer and closer to the Creator as I take notice of the small beauties in the world. In a way, it’s felt like worship to see the beautiful things in small places. And again, as I recall the different ways He has shown up in my little world and little life, I recount how, for weeks, I’ve been asking Him to do just that. Only now did I stumble upon the fact that He’s been answering my prayers, revealing Himself to me in such detailed and powerful ways.

Isn’t that just like God. Not only the Maker of all these magnificent things like hummingbirds and raindrops and human and animal relationships, but the Father who sees and knows each child when it would be so easy to overlook. And instead of ignoring the little prayer of wanting to see Him and experience Him in a way like never before, He answers in ways I never would have imagined.

That’s my Lord.

Writer of all the things~My goal is to create, share and tell people about the overwhelming, amazing love of Jesus.