Monday, October 15, 2012

Angles and Damiens

A couple of Saturdays ago, I took my nephew (Damien, whose name lent itself so well to this post) to our annual town heritage festival parade.  I pulled his little toddler tush down the street and around the corner in the little red wagon, and we parked ourselves at the southeast curb of the first corner of the parade route.

Little did I know...

I pulled the wagon, with its canopy, behind us as a windbreak and invited this dear little boy to join me on the curb.  It was a little cold and wet, but there was hardly anyone else around and we wouldn't have to look over any other families to see the parade.

Then the entrants stated coming.

From our position at nearly ground level, those cars and horses and floats came right at us as they rounded that first turn.  We saw more of the grills than maybe anyone else at the parade.  And every time a new car started to turn the corner, Damien's eyes LIT UP and he started screaming, "Look at that truck!"  Or "HORSIES!"  His little mind was absolutely blown by the sight he saw before him.

I have to admit, it was easily the best parade view I've ever had, too.  We were both sad to see it end.

There are three to four parades through this little town every year, if memory serves correctly.  And I take in all of them, though they are usually standard fare.  Tractors.  Dance teams.  Shriners.  Clowns. Public Library Book Cart Drill Team.  Horses.  Princesses.  Corvettes.  Republicans.  Democrats.  And CANDY.  (Damien and I came home overflowing with candy that gave all of us a hefty haul when properly divided.  By which I mean, after I took the banana Laffy Taffy and all of the fruit-flavored Tootsie Rolls and atomic fireballs and lemonheads.)

But I look at them differently after this last one.  After you've been eye-to-eye with the headlights on the mini-Shriner cars and seen every intricate detail of the horse's hooves (and thankfully, no detail behind them), it's hard to look at a parade the same way.  Instead of being one of those "sophisticated" adults with the lawn chair and the umbrella and a niece or nephew sitting on my lap, I'm going to start seeking out those curb seats.  And maybe some day, a balcony or two.

Because I cannot stress enough the importance of changing your angle every now and again.  It's the way you start to see life again.

I'm reminded again of a story from my summer.  Working outside, assessing the work on the roof and the panels, I spent a lot of time looking straight up.  More than once, I got a little dizzy as, for the first time, I realized not how high are the heavens above the earth, but how majestically deep they are.  It gave my heart a new breath of God.

Find a new commute to work in the morning.  Take a new road home.  Climb a tree.  Crawl in the mud.  Rearrange your furniture.  Choose a new seat.  Sleep on the other side of the bed.  Sit on the other side of the sanctuary.  The possibilities for finding a new angle are everywhere and it's doesn't have to radically change your day-to-day or squeeze more todo into an already busy schedule; it just changes your perspective and gives you new appreciation for the little things.

Like the white-haired hooves of a Clydesdale or the way candy looks when it's not coming at you but falling on you or just how many people could use a new pair of shoes or how deep are the Heavens and God's gracious love.

No comments:

Post a Comment