treasure.

We walk a fine line by living in the moment. Elders tell us to enjoy the journey. Friends encourage us to stop and smell the roses. Historians tell us to learn from the past—technologists say we should find hope in the future. But it is here, now, that often gives me the most trouble.

Just outside my door I found a small spider in the midst of a giant web. She must have spent all night—invested more energy than she could afford in building a home for herself. And now, she is resting. Living in the moment. Soaking in the glory of the silky mansion she has just built for herself.

We build mansions for ourselves, too. My closet, for one—full of more clothes than I could ever wear. And yet, this morning I showed up to class in sweatpants. It is my mansion. As if I am somehow judged by how spotless and wrinkle-free I present myself; as if it makes part of who I am. My bookshelf, another prime example. The textbooks sit there. Unopened. Unused. Un-learned-from. And yet, I continue to build my collection. With the hopes that someday osmosis might set in and my brain might suddenly be filled with pleasant banks of knowledge. And there are other people who literally DO building mansions for themselves. And there they sit. Behind streak-free windows. Atop hills and at oceansides. Basking in the glory of themselves, soaking in the accomplishment of what they have built.

Each mansion, whatever it may be, is an investment. Clothing. Books. Houses. Even worry, homework, cooking. And somehow, each in their own unique way pumps up our egos, gives us hope for the future. A future we are uncertain we’ll even have.

So today I am looking beyond the future. Beyond tomorrow. Beyond next week and next month. Focusing on eternity. Where God has built a mansion for us. A place where simply being in His presence is more satisfying than clothes and books and earthly houses. A place where homework doesn’t bring guilt, where board scores don’t matter, and where egos are broken by humility.

I’m placing my hope in that future. The only future I can be certain of. Because I can’t know what tomorrow will bring. In fact, no one can.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth & rust destroy, and where thieves break in & steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heave, where moth & rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in & steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” –Matthew 6:19-21

what i'm missing.

it wasn't until today, this morning actually, that it really hit me: i am missing something.

yes, some might tell me i'm missing sanity (believe-you-me, i would believe them). yes, i'm often missing sleep or food or something otherwise considered important.

but there is something else, too.

i've walked to school the past week. each morning i leave 30 minutes early and take a mile strole down the narrow streets, arriving at school glistening, refreshed, and quite satisfied with myself that i am saving gas and getting exercise.

but oddly enough it wasn't until today when i was driving back from school that i noticed the green leaves on the trees. not just scant leaves, not even budding leaves; full leaves. and then i noticed the flowers--fully blooming. and the birds sitting in their well-built nests, chirping away at the morning sunshine. the dandelions growing all the way down the walkway to my front door, and the growing cobwebs covering my porch awning leftover from the winter induced insect-gravitation toward the warmth of my cottage.

and, sadly, i realized just what i'm missing. not only being here in school, often stuck inside with my nose in a book, but what i'm just not taking the time to notice. for the past week i've walked the same path with the same trees and flowers and birds. not once had i taken the time to look up and see the leaves, look down and see the flowers, or take a break from the physiology lectures streaming through my headphones to hear the birds.

i can't blame it all on school. or scheduling. or studying. i do feel like i'm missing out on a big part of life--of changing seasons and being outdoors and friends and socializing. studying takes up most of my time. i can't blame it all on lack of motivation--my days just aren't long enough to fit everything in (& school takes first priority right now...aside from jon, of course).

i can only blame myself. for not being aware of God's blessings. for not taking the time to notice that, once again, He fulfilled His promise: spring has come again with new creation, full of life breathed by His lungs.

and i can't help but wonder what other new creations i'm missing. new attitudes. new perspectives. new relationships. or perhaps the most important of all: myself as a new Creation, constantly recreated by the amazing power of redemption.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! -2 Cor. 5:17