Possibility

I live in a small town, not a bad thing really, just a nice little town tucked into the Mississippi River.  And like many small river towns, there are historical buildings, telling the story of the town through lines of architecture.  They tell the story of a time when the modest downtown was full of prosperous stores, when there was a bustle and the best of the homes were on the street the next hill up.  Now, many of the buildings have fallen into disrepair.  It’s really quite a sad thing.

The other day, I was walking back to my car from work and had my camera with me, as I often do.  I was stopping to take a few pictures and enjoy the color.  Something about having a camera lens in front of me makes me look differently at the world.  I focus differently, seeing details, colors, possibilities.  One building in particular always catches my eye.  Oh, to my glance when I am walking down the sidewalk into work or back to my car, I see white boards covering windows on a bricked building in sad shape.  But, when I have a camera in hand, I can see the possibility take shape.  Remove the white boards, peel them back like an onions skin to reveal the beauty of structure underneath.  Then, send in someone with a deft hand to repair the brick.  Another can lend elbow, bicep, wrist, and finger power to scrubbing the grime away, making the windows gleam.  Replace the broken with the new, keeping the feel and integrity of the old.  I imagine inside putting down hardwood floors, soft lighting in the windows and brightly colored woven woolens on table tops and covering the backs of rocking chairs.  I imagine adding some iron scrollwork to the side, a porch to wrap around and hold hanging baskets of flowers, like a garland about its neck.  On the roof is a garden and small atrium, so that if you look at it from the ground, it appears to have a soft green mossy hair rather than clay blocks that suddenly and abruptly stops.  Around the sides, small fruit trees will be planted; sweet smelling blossoms swell upwards in the breeze and have delicately arched canopy sprays.  I imagine that inside there are several entrepreneurs taking up there place, as if they are in appointed positions.  Glass blowing and painting here, authors there, weaving cloth, metal working, and clay still over in that place, turning this way for art, that way for talent, showcasing abilities and welcoming those who would seek to learn trades that are becoming less and less common.  The front doors are replaced from the old broken down doors are now made of stained glass jeweled flecks, clear glass and the most beautiful pieces of wood, put together to act like giant welcoming eyes.  A fern, with of course lots of character – as ferns should always have, sits in the foyer at the base of a wooden and cylindrical and rolled iron staircase.   A string of lanterns are about the building, casting soft lights in the dark and architectural benefits in the light.

I can see the possibility – just like God can see the possibility in us.  There are people we look at and assume pretty much that they are just a worn out old abandoned building of a human being, not a someone but an anyone, or even perhaps a nobody.  But, God looks at us through the lens and sees the possibility, the potential.  Before you discount the next empty building person you meet, take a moment to look at God’s perspective.  The next time you think of your self that way – take a good long look at yourself with God’s camera.