Whenever I go away, for whatever reason I do, our cat, aptly named Summer, remains at home and, in her funny little way, greets me upon my return.  Summer has a cute little life, really, a life of routine, yet a life at the same time that is always new and changing.  Like ours.  Year round, her daily patterns remain about the same, exploring the backyard in the morning, having a bit of "breakfast" when she returns, then "retiring" to a comfortable chair for a nap.  In the afternoon, after she is "rested," she does the same thing.  Likewise for the evening (although we do not let her outside after dark).  But one day she might see a butterfly she has never seen before; another day she might find a puddle of water left by the rain from which she can drink; yet another day she comes upon a new flower in the yard.  There's always something "new" to see.

     If she looks for it.  And she does.  Summer is a very curious cat.  Are you a curious human being?  You likely do not sleep as many hours as does a cat (well over eighteen hours a day), and you probably do not thrill over a new puddle of water in your yard.  Nonetheless, we build our lives around the new.  That's how we are made.
   
  Again, only if we look for it.  The world is indeed a remarkable place.  But like Summer, we will never know this if we do not look for its wonders and, more importantly, we realize that, all laws of physics aside, a world without "newness" is a world without transcendent truth.  Newness is only as amazing as the framework in which it occurs.