My older son headed back to college this morning; my younger has returned to his usual high school schedule. For the first time in over a month, the family routine has returned to its usual configuration. A look over the recent holiday vacation brings to mind: nothing in particular.

We ate the usual meals at their usual times, with conversation spanning a wide range of unimportant topics. There were trips to buy clothes and groceries, and walks around Wareham – solitary, in pairs, and with all four of us. Sorry, Carcassonne, and Risk were set up on the carpet, and jigsaw puzzles took shape on the coffee table. Chores got done and each of us got bored every so often. None of it was remarkable or memorable.

It takes some unstructured, nothing-in-particular time for me to regain the awareness of the mystery that is every person; focus on particular talents and accomplishments can bring a blindness to this sacred truth. For whatever reason, sometimes it’s hardest to see God in those who share my address and name. Looking over a game board, the dinner table, and jigsaw pieces, I caught more than just a passing glimpse.

I ordered them from the seasonal sale catalogue, September 2000: LLBean leather ankle boots, stitched in Maine. They have kept my feet comfortable and dry for nineteen plus years. I’ve raked leaves, dug garden beds, trimmed shrubs, and chased children in them. For $45 and the cost of two sets of replacement laces, these boots have made my life richer for the miles they’ve carried me. I don’t know who put in the time, effort, and expertise to stitch leather onto sole, but I’ve said many a thanks to him or her. In a world of the disposable, it’s a rare blessing to find a classic designed for long term wear.

I took my last walk in these boots yesterday. The holes and cracks in the soles let in too much water, sand, and mud for use in bad weather or damp terrain. After almost two decades, the time had come to say good-bye. With a prayer of thanks for the life they gave me, I let them go.

For me, these boots hold two truths:

Good craftsmanship enhances life, well worth paying for.

Everything has its time, and that time is finite.

Like these boots, I hope my life’s work turns out to be an example of both.

[Handrail detail, Christ Church Parish, Plymouth, Massachusetts]

A fresh set of eyes and a beginner’s mind find a whole world of wonder and meaning in the very things that most people take no notice of. I’ve run my hand along the rail for years without really seeing its beautifully carved detail. It’s only because I’m working on a “find the image in the sanctuary” game as a way for children of all ages to learn more about their faith that I’ve managed to see what has been in plain sight all these years.

The beauty of the sanctuary as a whole can obscure the details – symbols, words, and colors that tell the story of Christian faith lived in a particular time and place but also taking part in the much larger world of faith. Too much focus on one or two details runs the risk of losing the larger picture. Big picture or small detail: God can draw my spirit into loving communion either way.

One of the blessings of 2020: beauty prayerfully made that deepens faith.