Wide Eyed and Wonderful Life

Psalms 9:1 — “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.”

There are moments when life slows down. It’s like the whole world has paused and is holding its breath to see what happens next.

That’s how it felt in the at work that day. I was on the couch, laptop open, trying to focus. My wife Sarah was there. Her stepmom, GiGi, too—watching Reese for us.

Our little girl was still in that almost-walking stage—testing the waters, clinging to furniture, never daring to cross the open floor. Like many nervous parents, we wondered if we would ever see her take those first steps.

Don’t get me wrong. Reese had always been right on time with her development, so there was nothing to worry about. But for Sarah and me, this felt like our one hope right under the surface.

Then, out of nowhere, that little one-year-old got up and moved. As she lunged forward, I could tell she had it.

No wall. No couch. No hands. Just Reese, swaying, wide-eyed and toddling. One step, two, three, four, five. Five seconds of wobbly, glorious motion before she fell into her mama’s arms.

And it took my breath away.

In that Kodak moment, I felt everything. My whole chest swelled, my face flushed, and goosebumps covered my arms.

Fast-forward a few weeks, and she was running everywhere—into every room—climbing every surface, and moving faster than we could keep up. Those five seconds just became part of the everyday. I didn’t realize, along the way, that I had stopped noticing.

That’s the danger, isn’t it? God gives us moments that take our breath away, and then we just… move on.

God answers prayers, opens doors, and carries us into new places. But if we’re not careful, the extraordinary starts to feel ordinary. We begin walking like it’s no big deal, forgetting what it was like to take that first step.

So, I’ve been learning to slow down, to notice, and to remember with gratitude those days where I prayed for what I have right now.

Maybe today is ordinary. Maybe it’s messy. But what if you walk with God through it the way Reese wobbled across that break room floor—wide-eyed and expectant?

It might just take your breath away all over again.