On Notice

Sometimes it takes a miracle, sometimes it takes a walk outside

Disclaimer: Today’s little note is another reminder to myself more than anything else. Hope you won’t mind…

I’m heads down fighting through mud — creative mud — but I’m pretty sure I have the upper hand in the battle.

About fifty hours into making a video that I thought might take ten, max. I can’t wait for you all to see it. I’m shooting for a release on Saturday, fingers crossed (make sure you’re subscribed to the channel so you don’t miss it).

Crazy how much procrastination I’ve had to fight with this project. Months, all for a single video. And then once I finally started, I found every excuse imaginable to do something else each time I sat down at the computer.

But then something shifted.

Once I fought through the most difficult part — digesting twenty-plus hours of footage to see what the story actually was — momentum kicked in. Then energy (even better than espresso). It got me out of bed this morning before it was fully light. And I’ve been obsessing over the opening shot sequence and sound design ever since. I’m not just investing time into a video people may or may not watch, I feel like I’ve uncovered a deep passion, and now I’m putting myself through the school of doing. But time will tell.

About two hours ago, I stopped to make a quick call to my uncle who lives in Montana. We ended up talking for nearly two hours.

There’s a story there I want to share another time. But for now, our family experienced something last week that felt nothing short of a miracle. My wife’s cousin, a 4-year-old boy, had drowned. But through the power of prayer and the amazing medical team that helped him, he came back. Ten days later, he is perfectly healthy as I write this.

When something like this happens, regardless of the outcome, you can’t help but be changed by it. My heart is overflowing with gratitude, but also something else: awareness.

That reminds me of something my mother-in-law just shared in church.

My in-laws and grandparents had flown to Israel a couple weeks ago for a friend’s wedding. Hours after the celebration, war erupted. They were staying right next to one of the country’s two air bases, a major target for incoming missiles. All night and all day, sirens sounded and fighter jets landed and took off. They had to go to the bomb shelter dozens of times over several days, and through a back door via Egypt, were finally able to return home a couple days ago.

Through all of it, she said she became increasingly sensitive to the smallest things. Almost the opposite of what you’d expect.

Tragedies can do that. Miracles can too.

I look out my window as I write this. The oaks and cedar elms outside aren’t just flat gray anymore — winter’s default for deciduous trees. There’s gray, but now it’s tinged with green.

I walk outside to get a closer look. Tiny buds have erupted at the tips of every branch. Multiply that up and down every tree, and you see it: Spring is here. But you have to see, not just look.

You feel it too. The air is warm, but also earthy. A little thick, but not heavy.

Time to grow.

Yes, I love the change of seasons. But the simple, ordinary ability to notice is even more precious. Sometimes it takes an external event to wake us up. And sometimes it just takes putting down our work, thoughts, distractions for a minute. Stepping outside. Calling an old friend and letting time get away from you.

Back to the phone call.

As the conversation progressed, I felt a little anxious because of the calendar. I had an important meeting I “had” to be at. Plus a webinar to give a couple hours later with thousands of folks registered, that I needed to prepare for. But I let it go. A phone call is never quite as good as face to face, but this one was good. We talked about everything from world affairs to raising kids, the miracle with his son, natural disasters and weather patterns, and beyond.

We laughed a lot. I felt like crying a few times. And I noticed a whole bunch of things I hadn’t before, including the simple fact of how much I enjoy this person and the gift they are.

I’m going to take that energy — the awe and the humility — and pour it back into this video I’m working on, my presentation tonight, and the people I’m around. And I’m going to slow down a little more often… and notice.

Speaking of noticing - I love finding new little compositions in ordinary and familiar places. I noticed this one on the phone call and just love the work these shadows are doing