Beauty Not Chosen

Recently I listened to All the Light We Cannot See, a novel by Anthony Doerr. One of its predominating themes is that life is fuller when we take in as much of the beauty that surrounds us as we can. Beauty can be found in even surprising packages, like snails, which fascinate one of the main characters in the novel. Listening to the story inspired me to be more aware of my own surroundings and to find them beautiful. Additionally, an old friend wrote to me in a message about the beauty of spring that is starting to emerge in nature and how we might see that beauty reflected in our lives. Consequently, I started to notice and to appreciate the pretty sights in our own backyard.

The yard is not one we created ourselves; we moved to this house in the middle of January and inherited the landscaping that was already present, including a few nice trees, and, most notably, rose bushes. The roses were everywhere. They edged the perimeter of the backyard and side yard and they resided in several front yard beds as well. Everywhere we turned we saw roses. They weren't exactly nice to look at, either. They were scrubby, gray, branchy, thorny things. There was no way to tell if they were even alive.

My immediate response to so many roses was less than positive. Roses would certainly not be my first, second, third, fourth, or even fifth choice in terms of landscaping. (Read: I would never choose them.) Roses are notorious for being difficult plants riddled with pests and plagued with diseases, as far as I know. Plus, they are overrated. And thorny.

Then some blooms appeared. They appeased me a bit. I looked up some information on how to take care of roses, started pruning, and decided that maybe they would be worth the work.

Now as May approaches, the roses are getting ready to kick it into high gear. More and more blooms have adorned their thorny stems. I'm appreciating their presence. After all, if they weren't there, we'd have a bare yard.

Although the roses are not what I would have chosen, I'm beginning to see and value their beauty. In much the same way, I recognize there are aspects of my life I wouldn't have chosen right now, but if I take the time to learn about them and make an effort to cultivate them, I can also value their beauty. Having a baby has been a challenge, and I would not choose to be waking up to settle a little ten month-old multiple times a night in my ideal world, but I can take from this situation many beautiful blooms: extra cuddles, the chance to provide for my daughter, the opportunity to lean heavily on my Father's arms.

Sometimes at night I hum to myself the hymn about "leaning on Jesus, leaning on Jesus, leaning on the everlasting arms." His love is sustaining me and His burden is light. This truth is sweet and beautiful to me as a rose.