The other night I left the pre-dinner chaos of my kitchen to run a bag of garbage out to the trash.

As I turned to hurry inside from the cold, the evening sky stopped me in my tracks.

You see.

I grew up in Nebraska with big skies and beautiful sunsets.

But I live in Utah now with mountains all around.

And in Utah there is a ten-minute window at dusk when the mountains to the West are silhouetted against the orangey-pink sky while the mountains to the East turn the most beautiful shade of rose.

Rose-colored mountains.

Sometimes it takes my breath away.

Like tonight.

I stood shivering for a moment on my driveway in the cold.

Quiet.

And still.

Just staring at those snow-covered rose-colored mountains.

Wondering how many times I rush past beauty in my life.

Too caught up in the busy. The hustle. The doing.

Homework and dinner and carting kids to basketball practice then racing home to get everyone to bed on time.

How many times do I miss it?? All this beauty??

More often than I care to admit. I know.

But on this night, as I stood there with white billows of breath puffing from my nose and mouth in the cold air, I realized this one Truth.

The beauty will be there regardless.

It waits for me.

Patiently.

Whether or not I stop to notice those rose-colored mountains, they shine on every night. Lighting up the sky.

Just waiting to be noticed.

Waiting for me to pause…and look up.

Ever at the ready to take my breath away.

They wait.

Just like He does.

I whispered a small THANK YOU, then scurried back inside.

Back to dinner and homework and noise and chaos and hurrying through it all so I could get the kids to basketball practice then home for bed.

Back to life.

On this night though, as I heated rice and steamed broccoli and flipped chicken in the pan, I looked up.

And I NOTICED.

Boys playing hand-soccer on their knees in the living room through gales of laughter.

A teen mesmerized by his phone in one corner of the couch, stopping on occasion to tease his brothers on the floor.

Our ancient cat circling my ankles to remind me she’s hungry too.

The overflowing shoe basket at the back door.

My little girl pushing her shopping cart filled with babies around the kitchen island where I put out cups of milk for dinner.

Bags and coats and shoes and belts dropped in their normal corner on the kitchen floor.

Our old kitchen table littered with wrappers from after-school snacks and paper projects presented so proudly as soon as we walked in the door.

All their stories and endless “Hey Mom, guess what??”-s.

So much love and laughter and LIFE.

My breath caught a little in my throat as I stared at my breathtakingly ordinary life.

Yep.

These moments wait for me. Just like He does.

So patiently.

ALL THIS BEAUTY.

Ever at the ready to take my breath away.

I only need to look up…and NOTICE.