Moments of grace often overlooked

The other day, as I wheeled across the Bonneville badlands, I looked south just in time to see a flock of birds ignite as they left the shadow of a cloud and caught the sun. It was as if they'd been set on fire.

And the sight touched me deeply.

It not only made my day, but made my day memorable.

Some faiths refer to such times as "moments of grace" or "tender mercies."

Mormons speak about "spiritual experiences."

But whatever else they are, they are blessings — spiritual blessings, not material blessings.

If I hadn't turned my head, I would have missed the moment completely. And that made me wonder how many other "mercies" I miss in the world because I don't pay attention.

My guess is blessings and mercies constantly fall about us like snowflakes. But we're constantly trying to look through them, instead of at them.

Up in Brigham City, our neighbor has a tree that's as high as a kite. In the fall it twirls down leaves the way a dog shakes off water drops. I hardly notice them falling, unless one happens to hit me between the eyes. Then I'll look up and get a command performance of leaves dancing in the air.

When it comes to such moments of grace, I believe we're in the line of fire all the time. When God comes hunting for us, he uses a shotgun. He peppers the air with spiritual buckshot, hoping we'll walk into a pellet or two. And when we do get nicked, if we're lucky we realize — for a time — that true blessings are almost always spiritual, not material.

I think of William Cowper, author of "God Moves in the Mysterious Way."

Cowper was frail, both physically and mentally. He suffered such bouts of depression that for weeks at a time he couldn't leave the house. He lived in gloom.

Still, he was able to write:

Ye fearful Saints,

fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread

are big with mercy

and shall break

In blessings on your head.