Birds in flight, swooping into fluid form together, are mesmerizing. At times the mass unravels into fraying threads that stream into individuality, but like shoaling fish, the careening flock creates a beautiful dance that entrances even the sky. 

So it is with people, too, in times of swarming. Consider the peaceable act of barn raising in Amish communities or Kenyans working together to build sand dams. Acts of commonality, in which the greater good sings from the hearts of each individual, can evoke moments of true beauty - the kind of moments that show the worth of humanity.

We need individual voices to encourage and remind us - especially when rights are being denied or the mob mentality meanders along a less-than-ideal course. But, we also need to remember the strength of community. Together, mankind can accomplish remarkable feats of compassion that leave a lasting impression - even if it is focused on just one family.

Today, find time to align yourself with something larger than just one life: serve in a soup kitchen, build a Habitat house, tutor at-risk children from your local schools, advocate for the oppressed. You'll be amazed by what more than you can do.

The sun lights up yellowing cornstalks, an autumnal scene that seems destined for a stained glass. Even on a cool morning, warmth radiates all around when that golden glow slants in through the windowpane. Light lands across the bed, where the summer quilt lays in gentle heaps like rolling mountains on the edge of a vale. The baseboard's rich woodgrain mimics the clouds' layering in the sky outside and even shadows reveal the day's mood as birds twitter toward post-dawn and the wind shivers leaves on limbs. The silhouette of muntin bars proves the only constant as I linger in the coziness. And, for a moment I feel like the old (wo)man in the mountain, sleeping under the comfy quilt of blue ridges.

Just before the baby's waking coos, the house is silent. There is a sense of calm, although once the day begins serenity quickly vacates the property. Often our perspectives are like that, too, when we peer through the glazing at the lives of others. Everything seems perfect, or at least much easier than the lives we know. Any specks that would otherwise be noticeable are really just smudges on the pane that still don't deter the happy home interpretation that aligns with what we want to see. But just as we see, others do too. Our lives, from the strained sight of others, may seem so rich in the full sense of the word that it would shock us.

It is human nature to feel one's own plight more ardently than the despair of others. And when others do have perceivable difficulties, we are quick to help - for a little while, until we almost ache to have such care aimed at ourselves. If we're honest, we all feel that way.

So, today, amid the chaos you perceive, may God's golden glow remind you that you have special worth. You are a treasure, too, even with the frays that sometimes run you ragged.

Bee balm blossoms spread like fireworks. Their long stalks meander through porch slats, shade the verdant carpet of lithodora, and invade the gravely garden path. Poignant shadows, devoid of the vibrant red, shimmer on the gray porch boards, cracked from weathering. 

Just the other day, churning storm clouds, which vibrated with more thunder-growls than lightning-strikes, brought a battering of rain. A bumblebee, its wings resting from flight, sat silently on the dry side of the porch post. The wind chimes were still, perhaps savoring nature's influx of percussion, which was as transfixing as Japanese fire drummers in an outdoor amphitheater.

Today, though, the sky is blue. But not just blue. It's the sort of blue upon which you can barely gaze and yet it calls to you. It's pure and unhazed by humidity. It's cheerful and tips over even the most dismal mood. And, it enhances everything: wisteria vine scrolls, browning delphinium flowers, even bee balm shadows.

Whether rainy or sunny, the allure of bee balm brings a pleasant visitor. I heard the hover first. Not the zingy bumble of a fuzzy bee. No. There's more intonation to it. The sound captures a primal chant, smooth and constant. I always hear it first. Then, eyes roving across the array, I catch the fluid flight of the hummingbird.

Such moments make life worthwhile. Amidst the waiting and the whirl-winding, we delight in stringing together the wonder we find. Sometimes we place such finds in a box - one that's worn and smooth with a slight creak in the opening - with a uniquely-shaped rock, a dried flower, a colorful shell, a black and white snapshot of people you always wished to know. We set them out in a strand over time, letting the sun and the rain, the night and the closeness settle in, so that no two are alike. And as you admire your own box of memories, take a moment to ponder the beauty in those of others, too. Maybe it will slow your quick words, pop a smile where indifference usually looms, and invite you to see beauty where you expected not to see it.