I want to sit and look at the sunset. And listen to beautiful music. Hear the birds singing, somehow, so miraculously in tune with one another. I love to write about nature and deep feelings and sorrow and beauty. They belong to each other. Can beauty exist without sorrow? I don’t think so. They hold hands with one another. I wonder if my ability to sit in the pain with others is because I know and see the beauty that comes with it. The feeling is indescribable. It’s so fragile and tender. In those quiet moments when all seems hopeless….I look back and reflect at the nearness of the Divine. It’s like the miracle of the Advent season. The whispering hush of waiting for the light to break through. Knowing that the pain is coming. The darkness. But then….the holy miracle happens. The birthing of something new and glorious and transcendent. And you can feel it deep in your bones.
The leading up to that one wild and precious gift is always rooted in pain. I loathe the pain. I run from it and avoid it and fight it. Just give me the wonder and awe. I often wonder why life works like that. I don’t believe that beauty makes pain more tolerable. The difficult seasons are unbearable. However, beauty reminds us of hope. It helps us to keep hanging on. It’s those bright stars at night that lead the way to the miracle. Because the darkness fades. The morning comes. The healing begins.