Monotony

I opened the curtains to reveal the rising sun against a brilliant blue sky, and three inches of white snow covering the world as far as I could see. I’ve lived in Georgia all my life, so any precipitation other than rain is a rare treat. It did not matter that I was thirty years old, I was excited to play in our “winter wonderland,” and even more excited to take my twenty-month-old son with me.

After a delicious breakfast and putting on multiple layers, I took my little boy’s hand in mine and marched out into the cold. I expected him to be thrilled with the powdered snow, and was surprised when he took the most interest in the dirty icicles hanging from my pickup truck, which he broke off and carefully placed into the snow. I curiously watched him repeat this activity numerous times.

As I observed him enjoy the monotony, it occurred to me that children often insist on doing things again and again, long after their mature parents weary of the act. In a way, one might think God the same way. Every morning the sun rises, every year the seasons change. I imagine it to be a tiresome project to manufacture each grain of sand, each flake of snow.

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’: and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daises alike’ it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never gotten tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy, for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

–G.K. Chesterton

But as I glanced about the white landscape, I considered another possibility.

Is not each flake of snow distinct from all the others? Is not each blade of grass a unique creation? Is not each sunrise sky a different painting than the day before? Come to think of it, even when I do encounter something a second time, I do so as a different person.

Perhaps monotony is a figment of our imagination, for no second repeats itself. Our problem is not that we have matured into boredom, but that we have become disenchanted with life. We falsely believe we’ve seen it all before, and lose the wonder and excitement that comes from experiencing the infinite depth of our creator. I conclude that we must discover the uniqueness of every moment; it is there that we recapture the beauty and wonder of our God.