It’s the kind of beauty that makes your soul ache. The kind of beauty that hides in the dark. It’s the kind of beauty that I think of when I hear “the dark night of the soul”. God is showing me beauty this summer. The kind I want to run from. The kind that lies in the midst of all my fears.
It’s the kind of beauty that you see after you take a risk. The kind you don’t expect. It’s when the walker at your side asks you to “douse the light” and thoughts are racing through your head like “what if we are in danger” . Really, he only wanted to show you the sky shimmering with stars and the milky way splashed above your head.
It’s in the moment that you feel you can’t take one more step and your tongue is dry from saying a chaplet. It’s at that moment when a small white butterfly sails beside you with a smile and a “hello” from God. He happens to want to dance around you for what seems like longer than a city block.
It’s when you have been awake all night and your smile is running thin. It’s the kind of beauty that comes with the sunrise that part of you wishes you weren’t awake to welcome into the world because it has been a long night. But, it bursts up like a melody to God breaking through the hardships of the night.
It’s the kind of beauty that you discover in an RV park. It’s when you take a shower in a bathroom that is not your own. It’s when you get the water that has been washed from the backs of people that you will never meet on the bottom of your pajamas. It’s when you step out of that shower and in a split second your cleanliness gets marred by the dust once again. You realize that in this moment even your “poverty” is royalty to most of the world.
It’s the kind of beauty that you discover squished in among the peanut butter of the same type of sandwich you have had for more than a few days in a row. It’s found floating in your water bottle next to drops of last week’s water and dust that hasn’t been washed out yet. It’s the smell of sacrifice, raw chicken, and dish soap as you are washing off a cutting board that is needed again in five minutes for the next part of dinner.
It’s the kind of beauty that lives on the edge. The kind that comes when you have to spread your wings and fly for the first time. It’s that jump where you either learn to fly or trust God to catch you. This is the kind of beauty that God has been showing me these past weeks. The beauty of sacrifice, the beauty of trust and surrender. The beauty of letting go. It’s the bitter beauty of the cross. But the most amazing part of this beauty, the part that makes my heart soar and my breath catch is this:
I hope in the sweetness of His resurrection.
Kalin Lippsmeyer 2011 Central Walk