At Our Feet

The Price of Attention

People speak of the rare
as if rarity alone makes it sacred—

a once-in-a-lifetime moment,
a phenomenon,
something to be seen and remembered.

Halley’s Comet.
An eclipse.
Planets aligning.

Things so infrequent
they may never pass your way again.

And there is nothing wrong with that—

nothing wrong with lifting your eyes
in wonder.

But stand at the edge of the ocean.

Watch the small waves—
the ones no one names,
the ones no one gathers for.

They come in,
they go out.

Quiet.
Unimpressive.

And yet—
every single wave
brings something with it
and takes something away.

It reshapes the shoreline.

Not once.
Not rarely.
But constantly.

The beach before you
has never existed before that moment—
and will never exist that way again.

Not in your lifetime.
Not in anyone’s.

We just don’t call it phenomenal
because it happens too often.

Sometimes
we miss God the same way.

We look for the rare,
the dramatic,
the undeniable display of power.

And He does work that way.

But He also works
in the unnoticed.

In the steady.

In the places we are not paying attention to.

Things are shifting in your life right now—
small, quiet movements—
carrying something in,
taking something away,

reshaping you
in ways that will never be undone.

We pray for the miraculous—
and we should.

But one of the dangers of prayer
is that we often decide
what the answer must look like
before it ever comes.

They did that once.

They were waiting for a King—
a conqueror,
riding in power,
breaking chains in a single moment.

And when He came—
lowly,
wrapped in humility,
within reach—

they missed Him.

Not because He did not come,
but because He did not come
as expected.

We are not so different.

We look for answers
like lightning in the sky—

while God is moving
like water at our feet.

If you want to see the move of God,
then yes—
look to the heavens.

But do not forget
to look down.

Because some of the greatest changes
you will ever experience
will not arrive in spectacle—

they will arrive quietly,

and leave you
forever different.

© Ron Simpson Jr.