The Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. Parades line the streets, the air smells of charcoal and freshly cut grass. It's a million degrees outside but you don't really notice it. Moreso than any other day of the year you stand a little taller when you see the flag wave. And as sunset approaches, you wait in anticipation of what has always been my favorite part: the fireworks.
This year on the night of The Fourth, I sat in the grass, the West Virginia breeze just cool enough to give me goosebumps, looking skyward as usual. Brilliant flashes of light soared into the dark sky, lulling everyone into a split second of complete silence followed the thunderous explosion of colors and cheers and giggles of those around. As I sat twirling a poor blade of grass I abusively yanked from the ground, I heard the youngest of our group say something that caught me a bit off guard: "That one made it look like daylight!" At first I thought, "How silly! Why are they looking at the ground?"
At that moment, the next firework sparked and flew into the air but this time instead of looking up at the explosion, I turned my eyes to the ground. For the briefest and most isolated moment everything looked so very clear. The grass seemed greener, the water sparkled brighter, the faces of the children seemed to light up all on their own. Smiles spread wider, eyes twinkled, the trees seemed to be dancing too, and for that moment I realized that all of these things were so visible in the midst of the explosions above, I had just never taken the opportunity to pay attention to them.
My life has changed so much these last few weeks. In fact, they've been a sort of explosion all on their own. Events I had never imagined or expected to happen have set my world spinning and all I've been able to do so far is watch helplessly as the explosion alters the things in life that I used to think were most steadfast and certain. That night I realized that I was focusing on the wrong part of the explosion. There's not a thing in the world I can do about the explosion, but everything on the ground, that's a different story.
The light from my explosion has unveiled so much: things I thought I'd lost, things I thought I had but never truly did, things I had but never knew were there, and things I never knew I wanted. And they all look so beautiful in the wake of something so... not.
I've decided that these explosions of life, these fireworks, come in all different forms. Maybe your fireworks are moments of success. Maybe they're moments of complete and utter disaster. But whatever those moments are, steal your eyes away from those brief, all-consuming moments to see what you've been missing. It may be exactly what you thought or it could be something you'd never have expected. But no matter what it is, rest assured that it matters far more than the explosion and you'll be thankful you looked. The explosion lasts only a moment, but even in the dark, those things you find on the ground will always be right there. You just notice how beautiful they are when you need them most.
I know this one isn't very teachery and for that I'm sorry. I'm sure there's a way to tie it in if I think about it long enough. But for now, I'm not so worried. For now, in this moment, I am taking in what's on the ground: my friendships, my self, my strength, and the love that ties it all together.
