On a recent Sunday morning we were riding to church with a car full of kids.
I had not been particularly upbeat for a few days and that morning was no different.
We were on the main road near our house, we drive on it almost every day of the year.
It was flooded and more disgusting than usual.
I was thinking negative thoughts about how gross it looked and how depressing the color of the mud was and how much disease must be in the stagnant water and certainly the least that could be done was for someone to do something about the mounds and mounds of trash spilling into the nasty, smelly, water-filled road. I was feeling sorry for every animal that we passed, every person I could see, myself included. The ugliness of poverty was eating me. I was grouchy and angry and down.
From the back seat came the high pitched voice of Lydia saying, "Beautiful BEAUTIFUL ... LOOOOOOK at how beautiful!!!" I turned to look at her because in no way, shape, or form could I find anything in my line of vision that would be labeled beautiful.
Lydie was looking up, pointing above us at a tree in full bloom of red flowers. She wasn't seeing everything I was seeing. The only thing that stood out to her in that spot on our familiar road was that the tree had given birth to brand new flowers and she wasn't going to let the rest of us miss it.
I so want Lydia's eyes for beauty.
I just need to look up.
I had not been particularly upbeat for a few days and that morning was no different.
We were on the main road near our house, we drive on it almost every day of the year.
It was flooded and more disgusting than usual.
I was thinking negative thoughts about how gross it looked and how depressing the color of the mud was and how much disease must be in the stagnant water and certainly the least that could be done was for someone to do something about the mounds and mounds of trash spilling into the nasty, smelly, water-filled road. I was feeling sorry for every animal that we passed, every person I could see, myself included. The ugliness of poverty was eating me. I was grouchy and angry and down.
From the back seat came the high pitched voice of Lydia saying, "Beautiful BEAUTIFUL ... LOOOOOOK at how beautiful!!!" I turned to look at her because in no way, shape, or form could I find anything in my line of vision that would be labeled beautiful.
I so want Lydia's eyes for beauty.
I just need to look up.
