Why do we overlook treasures so often?
There is a park just a short walk from my home. Its about the same distance as the metro, just in the opposite direction. It's a long narrow park about a half mile from end to end following a little creek. Full of trees and squirrels and the sounds of the water babbling past. Its not a national treasure. Its not the 8th wonder of the world. I only see public mention of it when the water becomes polluted by this or that city accident. But it's still a beautiful little taste of nature and a very peaceful place.
I actually discovered it in the couple months before I moved into my apartment while I was still staying with my aunt and uncle. Every time I'm here, my soul feels like its been feed. Yet, in 4 years why can I still count on my two hands how many times I've come here?? Why do I forget about the beauty? The peace? Why do I convince myself the walk here is longer than it really is? Why do I stay home when something better is waiting for me? Why? I feel God here. Why do I forget the good things He has for me?
(written on a bench overlooking the creek yesterday)