Let’s open our eyes to glories of nature

When I take walks in the neighborhood, I carry my phone to capture scenes of nature often overlooked. One day, for example, I spotted a jaunty caterpillar with horns on its back, scurrying down the sidewalk.

Fat bumblebees sinking into flowers to collect pollen often star in my videos. And don’t forget the chipmunk perched upon a stone wall, chirping patiently for a mate.

Despite living in a city, I discover many wonders of God’s creation, when I take the time to stop and see.

By the creek, I watched the water hurrying over big rocks, on its way to keep an appointment with the river. The oaks, their trunks gnarled and knotted, watched me warily as I entered their territory.

As I walked, words from the Mass came to mind: “Holy, holy, holy Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are filled with your glory.” C.S. Lewis wrote, “Nature gave the word glory a meaning for me.” Even now, as the days grow shorter, the underground bulbs are sleeping, awaiting their glorious curtain call in spring.

Birds sing, dogs bark, lions roar and crickets chirp. We may be mystified by what they’re saying, but the psalmist gives us insight. “Praise him, sun and moon; give praise, all shining stars. Praise him, highest heavens, you waters above the heavens. You animals wild and tame, you creatures that crawl and fly. Let them all praise the Lord’s name.”

And why might animals sing and roar and chirp in praise of God? The psalm suggests it’s due to gratitude: “For the Lord commanded and they were created.”

How loving is the creator that sent us the dog as a friend. Whenever I see a dog with a big grin on his face, prancing down the street with tail wagging, I feel happy. And the way dogs respond to whistles, racing to their beloved owners, reminds me of childhood days when my father had a special whistle to call his daughters in for supper.

Years ago, I was in a small boat in the Gulf of Mexico with my husband. We’d dropped anchor and were enjoying lunch, when suddenly the waters parted and inches from us appeared two huge heads with curious, staring eyes. As the big beasts sank beneath the water, we shouted: “Manatees!”

That day, I wrote in my journal: “As a child I learned about the Beatific Vision, the moment in heaven when we will look into the eyes of God. I am starting to believe we have glimpses of God’s face here on earth.”

Every stripe on the zebra and every swirl on the butterfly reveal God’s artistry. Every song from the birds shows his generosity, since he could have created them without voices.

St. Paul writes about the glories of heaven: “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love him.”