Tell Me Something Beautiful

a request from the weary

I counted up the number of active leaks in our home last evening (wild night…I know), and the current count is four. None of them are urgent. A beach towel here or Tupperware there have bought us some time. But our home is nearing the 40-year-mark, and very much like my own 40-year-old body, things are beginning to look a tad worn. (I didn’t even mention the furnace that quit on Valentine’s Day, the washing machine that’s on its very last toenail, and the vinyl tiles in the kitchen that are peeling back little by little every day. I’m avoiding eye contact with the roof.)

*sigh*

Weary seems to be a word I have used often recently. And I haven’t even told you the people stuff. It turns out loving others means hurting right along with them, and lately, loving means it’s been hard to catch my breath.

Part of me hesitates to tell you any of this because there’s innate compulsion within me that says, “Buck up, Buttercup. No one wants to hear your woes.” And maybe you don’t. Maybe you have enough to carry on your own, and if that’s the case, you don’t have to be the one to pick mine up. As Parker Palmer writes,

“When we reach the limits of our capacity to love, community means trusting that someone else will be available to the person in need.”

But I also believe that weakness is not something to be hidden. Sometimes the very best we have to offer are the smallest morsels of ourselves. Our crumbs might be just the feast someone needs to feel a little less alone.

So here I am—worn out and weary—asking the good people of the internet, “Please tell me something beautiful! Show me something good.”

I don’t want positivity for the sake of positivity, to smile and sprinkle confetti right into the wounds. Glitter is cheap. But beauty? Beauty is resistance. It’s how we punch back when life tries to kick us in the throat.

Because when I struggle to see past all that threatens to come crashing down around me, I crave beauty and goodness like I crave fresh air. I want to close my eyes and sip the good stuff slowly like the fine wine I can rarely afford, not because beauty is sparse or prone to disappearing but despite all this weariness, I need beauty to stay afloat. Beauty is how I make it through.

And yet sometimes, dear friends, the good things can be hard to see for ourselves.

So let’s share a little goodness, shall we?  Tell me something beautiful.

Tell me about…

…the kindness in a stranger’s eyes.
…the daffodils already in bloom.
…the replica of Monet’s garden that hangs above your bed.
…the drawing of a squirrel your 6-year-old taped to the kitchen wall.
…the first warm day after a week of rain.
…the shiver you get when your husband kisses you after a business trip.
…the memory of your grandfather that lingers every time you unwrap a peppermint.
…the favorite tree that’s beginning to bloom.
…the good sleep you got last night.
…the local coffee shop that feels like home.

The weary among us want to know everything. We need to see the world through your eyes for a moment. Please tell us something beautiful and good.

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A quick note: Our boys are on spring break this week, so the Human Together podcast is on a break too. I think we all need it. And if you haven’t listened to the latest episodes, this might be a good opportunity to catch up:

• S1, E6 - Knowing When to Stay or Go (with Emily P. Freeman)

• S1, E7 - A Simpler Way to Love (with Gary Morland)

• S1, E8 - Finding Poetry within the Pain (with Grace E. Kelley)

• S1, E9 - A Curious Compassion (with Brandy Wallner)