Missing the obvious

It’s great to get out of the city at this time of year, and even better to be on the coast.
Yesterday morning early I took my camera and walked up to one of my favourites places, on a cliff overlooking the sea. Was taking photos of the bay when I noticed Kevin’s tree.
Kevin was a young man who developed a brain tumour. His parents had moved to this part of the coast and he often visited. He was on the beach one day when, looking up, he noticed a tree growing right out of the top of the cliff. He was so impressed by its perseverance in thriving in such unlikely conditions that he determined to climb the cliff one day and see it.
On a good day, but still with a lot of effort, he walked up to the top of the cliff to where the tree grew. When he got there he was really disappointed. The tree that looked so impressive from the beach was actually quite a stunted looking specimen. He felt cheated: he’d wasted all that effort for nothing.
He said under his breath, ‘Is that it?’ and was just turning away to start the long walk back, when he heard God speak to him clearly.
He said, ‘But look at the view!’
Kevin widened his focus from the tree and the effort of the walk and looked out. The whole bay was spread out in front of him, a fantastic panoramic view.
When he became really ill, he said he was praying one day – or moaning at God, really. He told God he felt like shit, he was dying young and he didn’t feel he had much to show for his life.
And once again, he heard him. The same response.
He said, ‘Look at the view!’
Kevin said at that moment he understood he was looking out at eternity. He said, to everyone praying for him, ‘I’m very far from asking to be healed. I’m looking forward.’
So that’s why, up on the cliff yesterday morning, I felt I had to take a photo of Kevin’s tree, straggly though it is, along with the beautiful photos of the sea and the cliffs and the bay.
It was only when I got home and put the photos on the computer that I noticed the pictures of the stunted tree were dominated by a breathtaking cloud formation, an amazing shape like a huge white flying bird.
It was so obviously the focus of the photo that I couldn’t believe I actually hadn’t seen it at the time.
How could you take a photo like that by accident? Nobody, looking at the picture, would notice the tree.
Yet I’d been so caught up in memories of Kevin that I’d done exactly what he did: focused on the detail in front of me and failed to look up and out and see the bigger picture.
I needed a reminder to look at the view, obviously.