One of the saddest sins is boredom—taking things for granted. The cliché phrases are familiar: If you’ve seen one sunset, you have seen them all. Ocean, flowers, whatever. Been there, done that. Nothing new under the sun.

Six months ago a dear friend was told he had six months to live. We walked his terminal time together. Last week he died. We learned that experiencing things as if for the last time brings the gift of experiencing them as if for the first time. He died gratefully. Sickness, disappointment, and tragedy can trigger such mindfulness. Even aging can. The idea that one might never again see one’s spouse, embrace one’s children, or encounter a blooming dogwood tree—such shadows can transfigure the way we experience the world.

In today’s scripture we encounter the prophet Second Isaiah, who has declared Israel’s sinfulness to be terminal with a deathlike exile awaiting. Yet he promises that this can bring them to encounter God’s Word like rain and snow nourishing the earth with joy, birthing such peace that the mountains shall break into singing and the trees shall clap their hands.

This promise by God is not only of what shall be but of what is now. Shaken by “lastness” into “firstness,” we are birthed with childlike wonder. Eyes opened, ears attuned, touch sensitized, taste honed, and smell alert to the aroma of God. The hymn says it well: “Morning has broken like the first morning” that “Eden saw play!” (umh, no. 145). Blackbirds, spring rain, dew, sunlight—now, again, still, always.