I Wonder…by Barb Greenberg

I Wonder…

There are two kinds of wonder. The first lives in our minds—the questioning kind—and that’s where I tend to spend far too much time. I wonder where I left my phone or where I parked my car at the grocery store. I wonder about the past, replaying mistakes and imagining what I could have done differently. I wonder about the future—am I doing what I’m “meant” to do, whatever that really means? And, of course, I often wonder why I walked into a room in the first place.

Rosie had been caught in that kind of wondering too, lost in the endless uncertainties of her future. Then, without warning, the second kind of wonder appeared—the kind she hadn’t felt in a long time. It arrived quietly, like an unexpected gift left on her doorstep, shining through the shadows of her grief and pain.

It was the wonder that touches the heart. She felt it one afternoon as she perched on a weathered picnic table, gazing at a peaceful scene. This wonder wasn’t something she could hold in her hands, but it had weight—an invisible, comforting presence that gently lifted the heaviness she carried. She had forgotten that wonder hides in the simplest things, waiting for her to notice. Seeing it, however, is never easy in dark times.

When I’ve been overwhelmed by darkness and too tired to seek wonder, it has sometimes sought me instead. A soft tap on the shoulder—a bright red cardinal on a branch, a lone yellow tulip blooming in an abandoned garden—reminded me to lift my eyes. Wonder is always there, waiting patiently for us to notice.

Where do you find wonder?