A letter

Beauty is in the eye of the soul…

In Home in Virginia on March 15, 2012 at 7:26 am

I have realized before, but am again realizing how much the soul and its condition effects your current outlook on the beauty of life and particularly the beauty of the here and now.  On a tops day for the soul I see beauty in just about everything. Granted, I am sort of that kind of person, but still, on a good day, even the ugliest of ugly things may have a speck of beauty if I look closely enough. What’s funny is the fact that your soul gets packed along whether you decided to pack it or not.  Often I blame unhappiness on my surroundings.  For instance, Virginia Beach not being a desirable place to live, in my thinking, was the reason I have had such a rough first year.  The agitation of the grass not being edged at our apartments has most definitely defined a portion of my unhappiness. The fact that dining selections are limited, and that we live in a land of strip malls has filled the cup so to speak.  While all these things are true, the real problem with the last year is that my soul’s grass wasn’t edged.  Rather than feeling at home, I felt like we lived in a strip mall.  If the soul is displaced, everything is displaced.  This has been a season of soul displacement.  I am sitting on my porch, (made of a cement slab, and two 4 by 4 posts)  in 60 degree weather, in lawn chairs purchased on craigslist, drinking an iced Via latte with raw sugars, staring at crab grass.  The grass is half brown, half weeds.  Rugged toys and my dear boy Leon are sitting near by me and everything is perfect.  This perfection hasn’t come from the grass being edged, or beautiful scenery, though I might say the scenery this morning is quite beautiful. The perfection is in the fact that my soul that has so felt displaced is finally taking a seat.  It has wanted to sit down for a while, and finally feels like it can.  I feel inspired for the first time in a while, I feel like I love my life.  I don’t hate Virginia Beach any more.  I don’t really love it, but I love that we are here.  I love this path we find ourselves walking.  It is not a path that like Map Quest, you can put in your future destination and see where you are along the way.  It is more of a rugged way through a forrest marked by various pieces of fabric tied to tree trunks guiding you in the way.  We have no idea where we are going, how many hours, days, weeks, months, and years are left in this journey.  But the road trip is going well.  No need to fret when we will see our next marker on the way, because for now we know we are on the right path, and putting one foot in front of the other is all that is necessary at the time.  We are not going to worry about tomorrow.  Today has enough of it’s own. And frankly, today doesn’t have many.  I frequently tell Leon to not worry about Sol and that mom will worry about him.  He normally immediately says “mom can you worry about Sol?”.  I laugh inside, but, to be honest, I’m sure the Lord feels that way about me.  He tells me not to worry, and instantly I respond, “can you worry about it God”.  I hope to really learn to not worry, even about God worrying about our life.  He doesn’t need our help and isn’t worried a bit about anything.  That is the lap I am sitting back in today, and hoping to sit in it day after day.  In Germany a few years ago I wrote a song, and the words are o so true.

O my soul.  I can’t escape.
No matter where I go, she’s awake.
If I could sleep a thousand years,
Could I escape? No. She still awaits.

I cannot leave this state of mind.
It’s not confined to place or time.
I want to go so far away.
But she’s still there, staring at my face.

And this my soul knows very well;
You’re the only one to calm this hell,
Of a wounded soul so broken down.
Abba God, she cries for help.

Perfect surroundings don’t reflect a perfect soul.  I can be in an imperfect place, but if my soul can find home, all will be well.  Thankfully, it is well with my Soul.  It is well.

Bep



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  1. “mom can you worry about Sol?” haha, so cute! your writing is the best. and i think in so much of what you write many people relate, in their own ways, with what you’re going through and feeling.

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