This morning I’m reading a poem by Danusha Lameris titled Small Kindnesses. The poem begins with a list of the small things that people do or say to one another in the course of the day, things like saying “bless you” when you sneeze or for the waitress to call you “honey” when she brings you your eggs.
“We have so little of each other, now,” Lameris writes. “So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exhange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”
Lately, I have found myself wanting to pay more attention to the holy that surrounds us. Those holy moments are not only found in the flowers that bloom by our house, or the vistas I see as I drive through the mountains. Often times, God is most clearly revealed in the small kindnesses that we so often take for granted.
How might I pay closer attention to fully see the true dwelling of the holy.
only wonder understands 