Last night, I had the opportunity to meet someone from Wyoming while waiting in a hotel lobby. I, myself am a lover of the mountains, so I said with an excited voice, “Oh, it must be so beautiful there!” The drive home every day was just filled with breathtaking views!” He paused for a moment and a sly grin spread across his face. He said, “You know … I don’t think I even notice it anymore.”
Our conversation moved on from there, each of us sharing stories about where we live and what we do for a living and the pride in our children. We parted ways, each having a new story to tell about that time we met someone randomly. As I was leaving, I couldn’t stop thinking about that one sentence. “You know … I don’t think I even notice it anymore.”
I began to think about what Miss Lou must look like to visitors. And I started to think about all the beauty that I, personally take for granted each day. With electronic screens plastering the bad news and the unsightly parts of our area taking up so much space in our lines of vision, do we even notice it anymore? Have we lost sight of the things that make The Miss-Lou one of the best places on God’s green Earth?
Do we notice the azaleas flashing their brilliant pinks in the Spring? With their blooms announcing that better weather is on the way and urging us all to begin our changeover from the drab winter blues to the promise of a new season. The large ones in our neighbor’s yard whose grandmother planted decades ago. The rows upon rows of them as we travel past the historic homes on our way to work. “Do we notice them?”
The tree-lined streets with roots outgrowing the sidewalks because they are so strong. Branches that loom over and dip down. Perfect for climbing. Perfect for that rope swing. Perfect for a treehouse. Perfect for a picnic in the shade. Where friends and neighbors have gathered for a century under their protection. Standing strong for us to enjoy today.
Do we notice the river carrying cargo and tourists up and down its waters? Creating backdrops for pictures for hundreds of years and boasting some of the most beautiful sunsets known to man. Lapping along the bank on the Riverfront from our comfy swing-set view or looking miles north and south from the bluff. The breeze tickling our hair. The sun scattering like glitter on the choppy waves. The downed trees that look like small branches when surrounded by the massive expanse of water making their way south. Reminding us how powerful that water can be.
The historical architecture of the homes, buildings, and churches. The stained-glass windows and wrought iron details. The columns and wrap around porches. The storefronts with corbels and balconies and arched windows. Massive structures when built, sill standing all these years later. The almost seamless blend of old and new.
The churches, denominations a ‘plenty, with no room left for parking so cars line the streets. Everyone is in their Sunday best to hear the advice from the pulpit this week. Choirs lifting their voices with age-old hymnals set in new age style. Matching hats, shoes, and pocketbooks … because The Lord deserves us at our best. The smell of Sunday Supper making its way from the kitchen and promising a belly full of love and enough left to send a plate to our elderly neighbor next door.
The friends and neighbors laughing on the porch. The smell of barbeque wafting through the neighborhood. The children’s laughter as they bond with their friends. Even the simple things like a smile or a wave at a stop sign. Hearing “God Bless You,” from the next aisle in the grocery store when you sneeze. “Do we notice those things?”
The farmer’s markets where locals boast their home-grown and handmade fruits and veggies. The festivals of all genres where communities come together to listen to music and eat the best food in the south. The marches, the parades, the funeral processions, family reunions, weddings, lavish balls, and birthday parties with friends old and new. These are all the ways in which our shared communities come together.
Hearing the school bands and whistles from the stadiums on Friday nights. Seeing the next generation graduate and fulfill not only their dreams, but the dreams of those who came before them. Watching the school busses unload children who run to their homes excited to share what they made at school that day. Seeing the pictures from our friends of Lil’ Johnny’s big catch and Little Suzie’s recital. The sights and sounds of our future.
It can even be found in the way that The Miss Lou honors all the historical figures who played roles in making us who we are. Community leaders coming together to honor those who were victims of our country’s past while celebrating their many contributions. The most collective antebellum homes still standing in one area developing what we now know as the Oldest City on the Mississippi. Appreciated and never forgotten. Honored by us all in monument and museum. History peppered with pain and pride – never forgotten so as to not be repeated.
Sure, there are some really bad things to be seen in The Miss Lou. There are many improvements to be made. I wonder, though, could the catalyst that brings about that change be the recognition of what we aren’t even noticing? If we point out the great things, will that inspire us to change what we can … starting within ourselves? If we take only a moment to stand on our front stoop and look left to right focusing only on the beauty … If we smile at every passerby … If we wander down the oak-lined streets looking up and around … If we actively enhance our own view of The Miss-Lou — would we be the change we wanted to see?
It took a stranger from Wyoming to make me open my eyes to the beauty and wonder right here in my own hometown. And I shall never stop noticing it. Will you?
