In The Midst of Pain, A Look To Beauty: Original Post January 29th 2013


I value beauty above all things;

For without beauty life would not be worth living, it is beauty that moves the heart, moves the soul…whether it be in joy or pain. Beauty can be found in the very small and in the immense, in the simple and in the complex. There is beauty to be found everywhere and all of the time, if we only have the eyes to see. For God is beautiful, and his hand is upon all things.


A horse runs across an open field on a summer’s day, the sunlight glistening across it’s flanks and filtering through it’s flowing mane as it catches in the wind. There is a freedom and abandon as it’s legs move in rhythmic flow…it’s hooves rolling over the soft turf and thudding softly on the grass. With observance there is equal power and frailty with each stride; the ripple of muscle beneath the glossy shoulders, the delicate tendons in sculpted legs…the flare of nostrils and the brightness in it’s eyes. There is no other creature that is it’s equal, and none with more inherent beauty.


The air is fresh with a light breeze, spring leaves hang from young limber branches, and a grey sky hangs overhead like a woolen blanket. Then a single raindrop falls, plummeting to the depths and splashing upon the ground below. It is quickly followed by another and another until there is a steady shower…landing on tree, bush, twig and flower. All colors are made brighter, revealing the inner depths of green leaves, the rich reds of earth, the deep umbers of trees. All is made new, all dust is washed away, and a sweet smell fills the air. There is a hush despite the sound of falling rain, and the earth is enveloped in it’s song. In grace the rain falls, in gentleness it touches, in softness it sings…


It begins with a single note; it hangs for a moment, lingering, caressing, filling the air with its purity. It is repeated, and then it moves on to the next. A bow is being pulled across a string by delicate fingers…remembering their movements without a thought, as a second nature they flow…touching, moving slowing, moving expertly, repeating with precision a dance they have performed a thousand times before. More sweet notes fill the air, a crescendo…then a whisper…a melody. They reach the ear then move to the heart. And when after their time they are finally over, they transcend their short existence and move into the space of memory, to be played again and again forever more.


She lies upon her bed, as she has done for countless days and nights before. The ceiling looks the same today as it did yesterday, and the last ray of daylight casts long shadows over the uneven texture above her head. Today is like every other day; Another day of pain, another day of weakness, another day of stabbing cold and burning flesh…another day. The tiredness is all encompassing, it would seem it has always been so.

    But she smiles softly at the window. Because today was another day of knowing His comfort, another day of feeling His presence, another day of knowing the assurance of everlasting love. Today was a day of inner strength, a day of delving further into a depth of knowledge of God she never knew was possible. And maybe, just maybe this is the day she will get to go home.


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