Learning to read the heavenly book of nature

I spotted a red- tailed hawk cutting through the sky while I was out walking today. There was no one else around but a young father, pushing his little boy in a stroller. We all stopped to look skyward, while the hawk settled atop a towering tree.

The father showed the hawk to the little boy, saying, “Look, he’s wagging his tail now.” They both stood there, gazing at a bird many people never see even once in their lives.

That father has given the child a great gift, which is awareness of nature. The father wasn’t staring at his phone while he pushed the boy along, nor was he plugged into a podcast. He was fully available to the child, and clearly enthusiastic about the world around them.

The hawk brought the father and the little boy into a kind of prayer of the present moment. I recalled that in “The Imitation of Christ,” Thomas à Kempis wrote that every creature can be “a book of heavenly teaching.”

One morning recently I awoke in the dark to head to a class at church. As I was stepping outside into the cold morning, I glanced at the window feeder and saw a bluebird munching on seeds.

Then when I arrived at church and parked, there were hundreds of robins and red- winged blackbirds swirling around and making a ruckus. Suddenly, getting up early seemed like a blessing.

On my walks, I’ve been noticing the lovely changes heralding the coming of spring. First there was only one daffodil within three miles, but now there are dozens. Flowers are decorating forsythia bushes, and blossoms on tulip trees are slowly unveiling their color.

Long ago, my husband and I collected a nice array of shells while vacationing on Tybee Island. We left them on the bed in our hotel room and went out for lunch. When we returned, the shells were scattered around — and we thought someone had broken into the room.

But nothing had been taken, so we were baffled, until we noticed the shells had the ability to move. Once we realized they still had little sea creatures inside, we quickly took the shells back to the shore.

The shells were a reminder of how easy it is to miss the obvious things in nature. For example, a gorgeous full moon appears each month, but many of us forget to look skyward on the appointed day.

In a letter written in 1927, Abbot John Chapman said, “Every circumstance of our life is a means of getting to heaven, and a part of God’s Providence; so that at every moment we are in touch with God.” Which means a walk can bring us close to the creator, when we stop to notice his handiwork.

Staying inside our heads can become oppressive. Our thoughts sometimes go in a big circle, and we get stuck in reruns of the past and previews of coming attractions. In truth, we meet God in the present moments of an ordinary day.

Sometimes I imagine the father stopping to show the boy a lizard sunning itself on a path and a bumblebee pressing its face into flowers.

And when the full moon appears March 28, I hope the father will point the child skyward to marvel at its beauty — and to read another chapter in the heavenly book of nature.