Thanksgiving Through A Visual Lens

By Mayer Smith


I take so much for granted when I am able to see things clearly visually. I do not take the time to think about what makes things grow and what happens while they are growing.

I look at a tall building and say -Wow – without thinking about all the equipment needed to manufacture the building – the bricks, stone, glass, plumbing, wiring, plaster, etc. – or the training required for carpenters, brick-masons, electricians, etc.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed when I think of all the training an architect must receive in order to determine the design of the building. The architect must take into consideration the use of each room and the dimensions to enable that use; also, the stress per square inch of floor area created by the weight of equipment, furniture and the number of people at any one time. That, in turn, determines how far apart the floor joists can be without buckling under the amount of weight they are expected to bear.

Then, when I think of the Master of All Architects who designs everything in nature, I really see how small I am and how thankful I am to be able to enjoy what he has created.

When I see a leaf at the very top of a tree, I think: for that leaf to exist, nutrients have to start deep in the ground, travel through the root, up the trunk, out on a limb, onto a branch, then a twig and finally to the leaf itself.  But all I see is a leaf fluttering in the breeze.

And then it occurs to me that the most amazing of all is the fact that the entire tree came from a seed in the ground.