Kim and I spent the first few days of this new year together, alone. The kids were with grandparents while we enjoyed our annual respite to reflect on the year that was and dream about what might be next.
After breakfast one day, we strolled along a pier that juts into Lake Michigan. The air was cold but invigorating because the wind was elsewhere, as were most people. We had the pier to ourselves. Upon reaching the end, we paused in silence, surrounded by thin, cracked sheets of ice. It was quiet, except for the crackling and crunching of the stiff blanket covering the surface of the water.
Peace.
We lingered for a bit, then walked back toward land, resuming our conversation. As our stroll concluded, Kim declared her desire to return for a Wonderhunt, casually mentioning that she’d seen fifteen hearts in the snow and ice over the course of our short walk.
How many had I seen?
Exactly none.
What a talent! I marveled to myself.
But is there such a thing as talent for something like this? For seeing hearts in nature? I’m not so sure. It’s not the same as having been blessed with a beautiful singing voice, exceptional sprinting speeds, or a penchant for math.
I do know this: The biggest reason Kim has a knack for spotting hearts seemingly at will is that she spends a lot of time looking for them.
What looks like magic to someone else is often the result of lots and lots of practice.
I once wrote a book about seeing. In it, I talked about storms, the metaphorical kind that blow through our lives. I also wrote about one of our most underrated superpowers: the ability to choose what we look for in the midst of those storms.
Yes, the storms will come. Scary, devastating, faith-shaking storms. They are a given, right up there with death and taxes.
But the people who see the silver linings are usually the ones looking for them.
It’s not a talent. It’s a practice.
And the more you practice, the better you get.
This, my friend, is as true with finding hearts in nature as it is with anything.
So…will this year be even worse than last year? Or could it be that this will be your best year ever?
Want to know a secret? You don’t have to wait to find out.
The trap that’s so easy to fall into is letting external circumstances dictate our answers: The news headlines, the outrage du jour on social media, the ups and downs of our personal lives.
It’s hard to see a year in which you hit rock bottom as anything other than bad. But a decade later might bring a new perspective that recasts it as a gift of great value.
Please know I’m not suggesting you pretend that the tough or terrible moments don’t suck. I know I had plenty of those last year. Being sad, mad, or angry is part of the human experience. We don’t have to bury those emotions under some false blanket of positivity.
Just remember that the best year ever is not one devoid of failure, conflict, tragedy, or loss. The storms are part of life.
But.
If you spend a lot of time looking for miracles, you’ll start finding them everywhere.
No talent is required.
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