31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 31

We're at the end of the month,

All Hallow's Eve,

and fall is definitely in the air.

We lose the light this next weekend

and I, for one, will miss the longer afternoons.

Living in a Mediterranean climate,

the signs of fall are more subtle than

in many parts of this great country.

You see it in the changing angle of the light,

you see it on country drives,

as hay is harvested and rolled.

You see it in the bigness of sky,

the sharp horizon line, unmuddied by summer fog

lying just off shore.

Around our home, you see fall in some of our trees.

The birches, just outside the front door, 

turn golden,

shimmering and shaking 

their heart-shaped leaves

in the afternoon breeze.

And you see it in the gingko tree,

that ancient traveler across time,

found in fossil form

around the globe,

its fan-shaped leaf distinctive

and lovely.

Our tree is misshapen and not large,

but its leaves are magnificent,

whether on the tree or off.

The birds love it either way.

We have a small, octagonal window with beveled glass,

one that we salvaged when we added onto this house 

about ten years ago.

We placed it at the peak of the high ceiling in

our bedroom,

where I can look up and out

as I wake each morning.

The gingko branches against the sky

tell me what season we're in.

I love that.

Bare branches in winter,

nodules bursting into chartreuse in spring,

deepening, thickly-covered branches in summer,

and bright, bright yellow in fall.

As they fall from the tree,

I find them in the nooks and crannies of our yard 

and I marvel.

They die every year.

To make room for new life.

And they scatter themselves everywhere,

in one last hurrah.

I was here!

LOOK at me.

And I do.

I do.

I am a beauty-hunter,

seeking always for evidence

of love and hope and joy

in the world around me.

A friend had this quote on his blog 

last week and it has stuck with me

ever since.

"As soon as beauty is sought not from religion and love,

but for pleasure, it degrades the seeker."

- Annie Dillard

But here's what I believe:

if we seek to find beauty around us

because we are indeed 

looking for signs of the Source

of that Beauty,

then we will also find pleasure.

Yes!

I believe that.

Pleasure is not the goal,

but it is the by-product,

the glorious gifted by-product. 

And in exactly that way,

we are saved by beauty.

Thank you, Lord.

This has been a challenging month on many levels, but I have enjoyed looking for beauty each and every day. I will join this last post in the 31-Day Challenge with Jennifer, Duane, Ann and Emily on this Wednesday and Thursday:

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 30

A Note of Thanks for a Beautiful Friend

Dear Rachel,

Here's a scary thought: 

          you are young enough to be my granddaughter! 
(If I'd started having kids really, really young 

and my kids had started having kids really, really young - 

but still!!)

And yet I call you friend. Through these cyber waves only, of course, but friend. That's what you do, you know. You make friends -- everywhere. 

Across all kinds of so-called 'barriers' in this world of ours - age/gender/sexual orientation/race/political persuasion/denominations/theological differences. 

Now that last one has proven problematic at points, I know that. You've taken a few too many brickbats for my taste. But you've handled every single one with grace, honesty, openness. And that is a very rare thing in this world. Very rare indeed. 

You consistently choose to take the high road and you do it with intelligent humility, which is a killer combo in my book. You do your homework, you write with skill and good humor, you listen to criticism, if it's offered with good will and has merit. 

But you refuse to be cowed by hate-mongers, fear-based misinformation, sideswipes, even outright lies. I salute you, I admire you, I respect you and your work. 

More than that, I am deeply, deeply grateful for your presence out here in this ever-growing world of technological conversation and community. Yes, community. And you have built a wild and wacky one over there at RHE, yes you have! Lots of voices, most of them filled with grace and intelligence, even when they don't agree with you. 

And then, of course, there are those others, who are not graceful. At all. Sigh. 

But you see what you've done, don't you? You've made room --even for those more difficult voices. AND you've built a team - to speak right back to them. Your commenting community is among the most articulate and well-spoken I've seen anywhere out here. And there are a lot of really fine friends (and far better writers than I) who are writing notes like this to you today. We write because we believe in you. And we believe in what God has called and gifted you to do -- on your blog and through your books.

Because we want you to be encouraged today. To know that what you do and what you say and who you are -- all of it, all of YOU is valuable to us and to the building of the Kingdom of God in this time, in this place. You are a great gift to the church, Rachel. A great gift. 

So thank you for being brave. Thank you for using that good, good mind God gave you. Thank you for taking on the tough topics, for facing into your fear, for speaking truth and love with well-chosen and wise words. 

Your publisher didn't choose me as a team member, but I am one anyhow. I have ordered the book and I look forward to reading it, reviewing it, sharing it. 

May you be blessed this day - and every day - by the steady and steadying presence of our Savior. And may you always stand ready to, "give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have...with gentleness and respect."  

Because that is exactly what you are doing. And you do it so very, very well.

Blessings,

Diana

Joining with a long list of other bloggers in a secret synchroblog to honor Rachel Held Evans on the day of her book launch. You can read all the others over at Jessica Goudeau's great blog, "Love Is What You Do." (Isn't that the greatest blog name ever??) Just click on these sentences and you're there.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 29

I find myself being saved by beauty 

in interesting and various ways of late. 

On Thursday night, in answer to an invitation

from a friend, I hosted a table

at the fund-raising event for our local

Young Life organization.

I was never a part of Young Life as

a student and neither were any of my kids.

But I believe in the work they do,

and I especially believe in 

what our local leadership is doing.

This was the first time I had seen the 

new area director in action.

And let me tell you,

this woman is a ball o' fire.

Her name is Tanita.

She is beautiful in every way I can think of,

exuding the love of Jesus with every breath.

The youth of this city are in very good hands, indeed.

Then on Friday evening, after a difficult phone 

conversation with my increasingly confused mama,

I took a walk.

Bent over in frustration and worry,

I cried out for patience,

and forgiveness,

and deep reservoirs of love.

And then I looked up.

And this is what I saw:
the mountains glowing pink,
reflecting the setting sun.
And the full moon rising,
shedding its quiet light over the landscape.

Sometimes a quiet light is what is needed.
Just enough illumination for the next step,
the next curve in the road, 
the next smooth space to put your foot. 
I'm not sure I want to look very far down
the road ahead for my mom.
I think it's going to get increasingly rugged
and difficult and 
a little moonlight
will be just about right. 

As I rounded the driveway and headed away 
from the reflective hills and the rising moon,
I was struck by another view:
this strong, clear silhouette against the dying sky.

Three tall, straight Washington fan palms,

three shorter, sturdier date palms --

quintessential California sentries.

I love them. 

I have not always loved them.

Growing up, I thought they were strange,

sort of purposeless, actually.

Where was the shade?

Where were the finely shaped leaves? 

Somehow, I grew into them. 

I love the rustling sound they make

in the evening breeze. 

I love that birds of all varieties

make their home buried at the 

bottom of those massive fronds. 

These trees speak to me of my own history,

driving to my grandmother's house,

across concrete roads with asphalt stripes,

clickety-clack, clickety-clack,

every street lined with one variety or another. 

They speak to me of warm, sunny days

and cool, soughing midnight stirring.

They speak to me of continuity,

of presence,

of stability. 

They are long-lived and impervious to drought.

They don't burn easily, either. 

In fact, it's really hard to get rid of them

once they're in place.

We have an upstart next to our backyard shed,

and the fire department is suggesting

we eliminate it.

It breaks my heart,

even though it's one of my

least favorite varieties. 

I think maybe I need these reminders of longevity

around me right now.

Life can seem fleeting when

you watch your parent slowly disintegrate,

when you see ones you love struggling with

debilitating, life-altering disease,

when you hear the years

creaking in your own bones as you move. 

So I say thank you for palm trees,

and night skies,

and full moons,

and family history.

I say thank you for young women,

picking up the slack,

carrying the torch,

loving Jesus and pouring love into others. 

I say thank you for beauty,

in the world around me,

in the people I meet,

even in my own faltering love for my ailing mom.

Because all of it. . .

every bit of it,

reflects a Beautiful God,

the One who stirs in me,

in all of us,

this longing for beauty --

anywhere and everywhere we can find it.

It is that longing that speaks to

the imago dei within.

It is that longing that leads us to Love.

Joining this reflection with Michelle, Jen, Ann, Laura and Laura - with deep gratitude for their faithful invitation to keep community growing.

    

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 28

I love steeples.

All kinds of steeples.

From wood frame churches,

hanging out in small towns,

to tall, stately stone edifices, standing as 

dignified adornments for busy city streets.

I like being forced to stop,

to look up.

I like seeing their silhouettes

against the sky.

I like imagining how long they've been standing there,

thrusting upward, 

proclaiming the glory of God.

Because of where we live,

I am particularly drawn to mission style towers.

I love the gentle curves,

the tilework,

the crosses atop.

There doesn't have to be a cross on the top of the tower
for me to see one there.
Because that's the beauty of church towers
to my eye --
they all bring to mind the vertical beam
of that old rugged one,
the one that stood on the garbage dump 
just outside the city of Jerusalem
over 2000 years ago.
And that is the most salvific of beautiful things
in my life -- that stark reminder of Love in Action.
Thanks be to God,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 27

A spot of color and beauty at our lunch stop on Tuesday, driving south on the 101.

"Put the question to our ancestors,

study what they learned from their ancestors.

For we're newcomers at this with a lot to learn,

and not too long to learn it.

So why not let the ancients teach you, 

tell you what's what,

instruct you in what they knew from experience?

Can mighty pine trees grow tall without soil?

Can luscious tomatoes flourish without water?

Blossoming flowers look great 

before they're cut or picked,

but without soil or water 

they wither more quickly than grass.

That's what happens to all who forget God --

all their hopes come to nothing. 

They hang their life from one thin thread,

they hitch their fate to a spider web.

One jiggle and the thread breaks,

one jab and the web collapses."

Job 8:8-15 (The Message)

May you find quiet space to learn from our ancestors 

this weekend, friends.

May you have room to enjoy the beauty of flowers,

and pine trees and tomatoes.

And may our lives hang from the Rock, 

rather than 'one thin thread...'

Joining this with Sandy and Deidra for a small space of quiet this weekend.