The other day I got up a bit early and zipped out of our development on my bike into a nearby valley with a creek running through it. I just needed to get away, to enjoy the morning, to be with God.

The air was gorgeous, just crisp enough to keep me cool in the sun. The sun was just warm enough to take the edge off the cold. It was absolutely heavenly.

The most interesting feature of this particular valley is a giant rock planted right in the middle of it, a placid granite monster dreaming pleasant boulder dreams day after day right in the belly of this pristine meadow growing up around it. (My kids and I climb it all the time, as you can see).

I clambered up to its rugged crest and lay back in a carved out hollow to relax and just look at the sky. Ten minutes passed, or twenty, or thirty, or forty — you know how it is — when I decided with a sigh to get up and go.

“Good things come to those who wait.” The voice sounded clearly in my mind. God hinting at something. I took the hint, and settled back in for… I wasn’t sure. Whatever I needed to wait for.

Two minutes later a foxy orange Marten popped its perky little head up from behind an outcropping to check me out. Poof, he was gone. Then back. Then gone. They’re like little tiggers, bouncers and frisky to the core. Standing up on the rock, I got to watch him for another two minutes — a very rare experience, even for people who frequent wild places. I’ve included a stock photo (not mine) from the net of what Martens look like so you know what I’m talking about. They are ferret sized, and painfully cute little things!

And I would have, could have missed it, if I hadn’t waited. I wonder how much we miss out on with our frenetic lifestyles?