What do I see?

I remember playing “what do I see” and traveling.  The game transcends ages and geographies.  I remember playing with my brothers and Mom, from California to Texas, Ohio, Florida and back again.  The game is fresh we roar along some unmarked Indian road I will never again.  Even as I fast forward I find myself playing the game with Carli and Whitney.  Each is a wonderful memory, usually ending in silly chaos best authored by kids in the presence of love.
 
I ask myself again.  What do I see in Redlands?  What’s catching my eye in New York’s Lower East Side?  Am I really walking across on 56th Street or is it a dream.  The echoes are very powerful.  In one it seems like I’m standing in the wind and rain at the station in Walton on Thames.  I’ve just left the chatter which always happens when Cherry gives me a three minute ride to the station.  My heart knows it is loved, safe, and at home.  In another scene, it appears that I am walking in the midst of extraordinary wealth and beauty.  It is incredible!  I wonder if it will last.  The scene repeats and repeats, yet I find myself still asking the question, “what do I see”?
 
As I reflect I see beauty in places one least expects.  I fear for the future.  It’s as if “this country that used to be covered with fine vineyards—thousands of them, worth millions!—will revert to a weed patch.  Weeds and thorn bushes everywhere!  Good for nothing except, perhaps, hunting rabbits.  Cattle and sheep will forage as best they can in the fields of weeds—but there won't be a trace of all those fertile and well-tended gardens and fields.” (Isaiah 7.23-25)  All because we didn’t stop and take the time to really see, understand, and protect the priorities we hold closest to our hearts.
 
Today I fighting what I see – people needing help, beauty crying out to be noticed and treasured, and hope – always looking for someone to share the load.