Maybe beauty is all we get

and beauty is enough

This morning, walking in the rain, we met a dog named Briar who “is gentle and likes kids.” as her owner assured us. Briar licked my sons face and he laughed with delight and then my daughter tripped and fell into a mud puddle and asked "is this coffee water?" And we all laughed and wished the dog and her owner a good day and headed back down the trail to warm tea and dry socks.

Early this evening I listened to a song I used to love when I was a teenager and suddenly I was thrown right back to the wide eyed and wonder filled little girl who was sure she could change the world, who felt everything so deeply, who just dreamt of being loved. The little girl who was going to go far and do incredible things.

Suddenly there were tears rolling down my cheeks reminding me of all I have loved and all I have lost and there was the sound of snowy rain tapping on the windows as if the sky itself was trying to talk to me and then I thought of Briar the dog and how my son giggled in delight and I remembered that's how we do it. We breathe and learn to ride the waves of grief and high delight.

Things get heavy and we think we might get lost - so we start to look for the delight more often then the dark. We shift our focus just a little and walk through the dark as it comes with a pocket full of good things like dogs who like ice cream, the feeling of holding hands with someone you love, the ache of laughing so hard with your sister that you cry, the smell of dirt after rain and suddenly the darkness recedes for a bit and the song ends and you feel like you can go on.

Maybe beauty is all we get. Grass stained jeans and thunder dark skies. Simmering broth, chopped onions fresh from the garden and muffins cooling on the counter.

Sunlight dazzling on ice covered sidewalks. Bare branches waving in heavy wind, still beautiful against that red heaving sky.

The sweet spring thaw that happens every year whether we think about it or not.

Maybe all we get is the beauty of late night fire sky on summer nights, fragrant roses growing in the hedge. Memories of laughter around a full table. Muddy puddles and coffee water and love that doesn’t end just because someone is gone.

Maybe beauty is all we get, and those sweet little pinpricks of light are worth collecting and holding on to with deep, deep gratitude.