When we are stunned to the place beyond words, when an aspect of life takes us away from being able to chip away at something until it’s down to a manageable size and then to file it nicely away, when all we can say in response is “Wow”, that’s a prayer.
Anne Lamott
Have you ever seen something that takes your breath away? That takes away your ability to speak, that takes away all your words except for one.
‘Wow’.
Last school holidays we took the family to Victoria, we hired a car and drove the Great Ocean Road. It was the height of winter, the days were cold, colder than I am happy with! The wind was wild, whipping across the sea from the Antarctic to us standing on the Southern coast of Victoria. It was icy and wild. Seriously, the wind was so powerful that my girls, who are aged eight and nine, were getting blown over by the wind.
As we followed the twists and turns of the route, we stopped whenever we wanted. Bundling up in jackets and scarves to brave the weather.
We saw so many amazing natural wonders along the drive, but as we walked down to look at London Bridge, I found myself with only one word.
‘Wow’.
My girls were laughing at me, as my hair whipped around my face, and the view before me took away my ability to utter coherent sentences.
‘Wow’.
There us something about being in the presence of the raw power of the ocean, the ferocious power of the wind, and feeling the intensity of the cold. There is something about the untamed power of nature that can be overwhelming. When you get a sense of something so much bigger than you. When you breathe in the cold, salty air, and breathe out, ‘Wow’.
It was a statement of awe, it was an acknowledgement of my smallness, and it was a prayer.