Paddles skim on liquid glass,
Sky checks her reflection;
Rocky shores with wooden doors
Display her pure complexion.
Hands of Time, I snap you here,
To break your counting power,
Cram a lifetime’s thirsty soul
Into this sacred hour.
Small progress, to be sure,
overlooked by all casual observers,
but don’t miss its significance. It is
profundity in prose,
a missive spelling out
emancipation of slaves. It is
a palette of life to starving artists,
Monet painting van Gogh
in the round.
A Master Chef’s confection
to a parched refugee,
it teases taste buds
and tastes of freedom. It is
bringing tears unbidden in
a dark theater,
goosebumps on arms
beneath evening dress.
Beethoven’s ears opening to
for the first time
and dancing with the pulse of
a thousand known notes
are contained in its single song.
Galaxies are formed in its confinement,
hope carved in foliar flare;
life lives here.
Feel it in the way your chest moves in and out,
how your brow contracts in the thinking.
Small progress, to be sure –
but don’t .
For a devotional on this theme, visit Growing with God in my Garden
Stepping in front of a bullet for ideology’s sake blows my mind.
And yet, in every major conflict, every war, every campaign, there are those who have lied about their ages, produced falsified records, and volunteered to do just that.
Knowing full well that each chest heave may be the last, putting one foot in front of the other when every step brings you invariably closer to an unseen but mortal danger – and doing so in order that people like me back home may choose which fast-food restaurant to frequent today with my spare cash is…amazing. Unbelievable.
Today I think of Canadian soldiers past and present who have sold their souls for the flag of freedom. For me. For every baby being born, every senior in palliative care, every soul with special needs and religious hopes and political ambitions and desires to live, and enjoy being alive.
This is a brave beauty, indeed. For every sailor buried at sea, every pilot shot down, every foot soldier captured and imprisoned, every man and woman who despite the cold grip of fear obeyed their orders to the letter, I say – thank you. Your beauty lives on in the brilliancy of a brilliant red maple leaf wherever it is flown. It echoes the Biblical encouragement to “[h]elp him (the king/government) to defend the poor, to rescue the children of the needy, and to crush their oppressors.” Psalm 72:4 NLT No matter your political views, these men and women, past and future, have given their all. They deserve to be hailed as beautiful.
Sources: squidoo.com, forces.gc.com, ww2incolor.com, virtualmuseum.ca
Do you consider bravery a beautiful thing? Do you have any personal stories highlighting bravery?
I don’t think there is anyone alive who would deny that true beauty can be found all around us – you just need the eyes to see it. It is in the air around us, invisible and delicious in its compounded molecules. It is in the sky – dancing in cloud formations, taking wing with birds in flight. It is on the ground, laughing in the soft grass, singing in vegetables and fruits as they grow. It is under the earth, in the riches and ores that fuel our function and feed our vanity. It is thundering in a waterfall, riding a rainbow, painting a sunset, calling from cliff to sea. God’s gracious and astoundingly creative fingerprints cover every detail; from the flagellum of a bacterium, to the ice- fire trail of a comet, there is much to see, smell, ponder.
Where do you see beauty in nature?