In Others' Words: Beauty

"The beautiful is everywhere." ~Fernand Leger, French artist

How often do I overlook beauty?

I get so busy with all the "doing"--writing, editing, laundry, running errands, texting, emailing, keeping my daughter busy, grocery shopping--that I miss the beauty all around me.

I miss the sound of my daughter's voice as she tells me a joke she just made up.

I miss the chance to see my husband embrace my daughter when he walks in the door after work. 

I miss the myriad of colors in the sunset over Pikes Peak.

I miss the sound of the hummingbirds outside my kitchen window.

I miss the chance for a walk in the coolness of the early morning.

I miss so much that adds beauty to my life.

Seeing beauty requires that I am intentional. Purposeful. Beauty is all around me. I need to choose to see it. Stop. Look. Listen. 

In Your Words: Stop whatever you're doing right now. (Reading this blog, I would guess.) Look. Listen. What beauty did you discover?  Be purposeful in looking for beauty today.

What Do You See?

Photo by stock.xchange.com/trolf

"As we grow old, the beauty steals inward."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson, American poet & essayist

I love the contrast in this photo: age and youth, both enthralled with the other. And who is to say what holds the greater beauty? The wide-eyed innocence of new life or the experiences and wisdom hidden behind wrinkles and gray hair?

Did Emerson get it right? When you see yourself getting older, do you think, "How beautiful?"

Beautifully Imperfect

"There is a kind of beauty in imperfection."

~Conrad Hall, cinematographer

There a times when I can fool myself into believing that I am not a perfectionist.

And then Christa has a school project due--and the truth comes out.

This is why I often let my husband handle such assignments. It's not because I don't want to help Christa with her homework. It's that I don't want to make me and her crazy with my desire to ensure her project is just right.

Christa, bless her relaxed nine-year-old heart, is not a perfectionist. She wants to have--gasp!--fun putting together the covered wagon for her history project. It's not about designing the perfect model. It's about spending time with her dad and brainstorming what materials to use, how to talk him into to letting her use the glue gun, and trying again when the first set of wheels don't turn out.

So I grab my perfectionist-self by the collar and back away. I let them have fun. I admit to occasionally passing by the table with the project handout, reminding my husband and daughter of the due date and requirements.

And, yes, I am the one who discovered that there was a required oral presentation too. I made sure Christa practiced that part of the assignment, but I didn't insist on a say-it-until-it-is-word-perfect presentation.
Thinking Out Loud:If nothing else, motherhood has tempered my perfectionism. I've learned I'm not the perfect mom--and my kiddos still love me. My children aren't perfect--but they are mine and I am proud of them and I love them more and more each day.
I can choose perfection.
Or I can choose love and laughter in the midst of imperfection.
I've learned the value of love and laughter--and that there is beauty in imperfection.