As I sat in the left turn lane at a red light, two men in their twenties stood on the corner in the cool of the evening waiting to cross the street. The light changed, but they didn’t move. So strange. I looked closer and saw they were both looking up, necks craned, mouths slightly open, eyes wide, oblivious to the changing stoplight.
Then I realized it was 9:45. Fireworks. Close enough to feel each concussive blast reverberate through their bodies. Near enough to fill the sky with light.
I live in the shadow of Disneyland. The extra- wore off the ordinary long ago. Lost tourists, traffic backups and cast members walking to work in full costume are part of the scenery. What fades into the background for me is still magical for others.
The signal changed again, and I made my turn.
The men were still riveted on the corner as the fireworks reflected off their unblinking eyes. They were wholly enraptured, wholly in awe. Dazzling aerial explosions so captivated them that they forgot to cross the street and everything else.
But it took noticing them for me to notice the wonder. I would have missed it altogether if not for the anomaly of their astonishment standing out in my normal.
I have the opportunity to marvel every day. I live in the presence of wonder. I have a daily audience with Majesty . . . does anyone see my upturned gaze and follow it to Glory?