Beauty Offers Rest

Are you drawn to beautiful things? I am. I didn't always think it was okay to admit it, but I always have been.

I like the cute shoes, I like elegantly cut dresses, I like flowers, I like butterfly wings. I like a clean kitchen counter, an open floor, a subtle tablecloth, the wild bunnies in the yard. (I could go on.  No, really, I could—the surface of a lake, blue dragonflies, hair colors and textures, the grain in wood—but I don't need to.) All of these things express a certain beauty to me. Now, often you may hear me use the word "cute," as it is one of my favorite words for describing most anything that is small or fuzzy (or small and fuzzy), but "cute" doesn't have to mean "I like it but it's just not to the level of beautiful."

Dictionary.com describes "beautiful" as "having qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about, etc.; delighting the senses or mind." That covers a rather broad spectrum, don't you think? I'd like to add this to my understanding of beauty: Something that is beautiful offers rest.

It may seem like an odd claim, but I believe it's important. Think about it. What's your favorite type of landscape? Maybe an ocean view with a clean beach in a brilliant sunset, maybe a forest in mist, maybe a desert with scant shrubs and cacti and a growing rainstorm on the horizon. Maybe something else entirely.  Imagine it. It's okay, take a moment and think about a location that takes your breath away. Maybe you've been there in person or maybe you've only dreamed it. See it in your mind; smell it; hear it. Does it give you something? Does it quiet your thoughts, soothe your spirit, calm your emotions?

It's beautiful, isn't it?

When I'm out under a vast sky that sits over me like an over-sized bowl I simultaneously feel small and big. I feel like I could drink in the blue air forever and never taste it all. I feel like I could stretch my arm and pluck a cloud from its invisible perch. I could stay there forever sitting in beauty, simple elegant beauty. I could examine the shades of the sky; I could watch the clouds floating away. I could breathe deeply and not worry. I'm given the opportunity to slow down (stop and smell the roses?) and not direct my focus on my to-do list or past failures or even future wishes. I could allow myself to rest right there in that moment.

There's a reason for that. It's rather simple, too. When I am surrounded by the sky, when I am both small and big, I understand, in a way, the presence of God. He is there. He created this particular scene in this particular moment. He designed every detail as an artist labors over a painting. Yet, His art constantly changes without losing any craftsmanship or appeal.

God made beauty. And He didn't make just one kind of beauty. Did He stop with just one kind of stunning landscape?

It can be easy to miss. We have many things to accomplish. Families like to eat, clothes must be washed (maybe it can go one more day), school and work assignments must be met, friends want to get together, bills should be timely, and so forth. And while all of those things can be good (please don't claim that I'm saying not to take care of these things), we shouldn't lose sight of what a moment of beauty offers. We should remember the grand value of beauty, and remember that opportunities to rest in its gift can be anywhere.

Beauty can be found in week-long, out-of-town vacations. It can be found in our daily routine. It can be hidden and uncovered like treasure. It can be displayed for the world to see. It can be shared through laughter or ingrained in our hearts with honest tears. It is in the big and grandiose, the little and average, and the inbetween.

Beauty is everywhere because God is everywhere. And God offers rest through His gift of beauty.