Each Lent, I see more people adopting the practice of turning their phone to grayscale, penitentially depriving themselves of color. I live in southeastern Michigan, which always makes lists of “cloudiest cities in America” with cloud cover more than fifty percent of the year. A Michigan winter is like living in grayscale. The sky, trees, ground, and even the snow are a muted shade of brown or gray, and we have high instances of seasonal affective disorder as a result.

But right now, Michigan is utterly bursting into spring. A neutral world is suddenly exploding with vibrance and life. I love the particular colors of this season, especially the bright, lemony green of new leaves! Eventually that will give way to one tone of green, but right now, there are so many tones and shades.

Lately, I’ve been thinking of the effect of our expansive digital lives like a grayscale Lent or a Michigan winter. These powerful tools are designed with an addictive quality that drains us, dulls our minds, and deadens our spirits. The effect of our often-mind-numbing use of technology (and increasing use of AI) can be a deadening of wonder and joy at the simple beauty of the world around us.

In our modern society, it is easy to be numbed and robotic, but we have to make the effort to keep our minds alive with wonder. Otherwise, we run the risk of mindlessly moving through life, missing both simple and profound joys. On my drive this morning, a small plant in the forest caught my eye. It was about six inches tall and atop a thin stem was a leaf that looked exactly like an umbrella, and it utterly delighted me to the point of exclaiming aloud, “Oh! A mini umbrella!” We see trees and plants every day of our lives. They can be an unnoticed blur of color OR they elicit wonder because, “Wow, God created a mini umbrella for the woods!” Likewise, we can become so accustomed to things like the sacraments that they feel lifeless and routine rather than wonder-inducing encounters with grace.

In my experience, wonder begins with noticing. This week, I encourage you to make the effort to notice more and begin to cultivate a sense of wonder. I promise that just like a Michigan spring, cultivating wonder will bring you new life!