In Which I Choose to See Beauty

I look out the window toward the wetlands and see it: a big spider web. Normally I detest these. A spider web means one thing….there is a spider around somewhere. I am tempted to destroy it, knock it down. If there is no web, there is no spider…right? But then I see the way that the dew clings to the silky strings. I see the strength of the web as it holds steady in the breeze. I see the hard work that went in to something so simple as eating. I see the intricacy of the center of the web. I see beauty. I see God’s creation as it was meant to be. I grab my camera and go snap some pictures as my son looks on in confusion. I hurry back in from the cold and I talk to him for a bit about spiders and how they catch their food. I keep glancing back out the window at the web as we finish our breakfast. Now all I can see is beauty.

………..

I am in the car on the way home from running some errands. My son is in the backseat eating some goldfish which I am hoping will tide him over until we can get home and eat lunch. I am 5 or 6 cars back from the intersection at a red light. I see a man holding a sign. He is asking for money. He has a son. He has no home. These are things his sign tells me. I think to myself that I am too far back to help this man. There isn’t time to get money from my purse, and for him to walk over here to get it before the light turns…even if I wanted to give him some. The light turns green, and it is unusually short. Now I am the first car in the intersection. And the man is right there next to me. Just a few inches of metal and glass separate us. I feel squirmy and I try not to look at the man. I’m trying to decide if the squirmy feeling is guilt or maybe God’s thumb squeezing me until I do the right thing.

I look at the man and I see his eyes blinking away rain drops. I see the way his fingers are curled around the sign loosely…as though he doesn’t really want to hold it. I see the hunch of his back, the sadness and desperation. Then I try to truly see this man. Who is he? What is important to him? Where is he from? Of course I can’t know these things unless I actually talk to him…and there isn’t time for that. But I think about how this man is God’s child too, and he deserves more than the back of my head and exhaust fumes from my car. He is beautiful as are all God’s children.

I roll down the window. “Sir,” I say as I extend my hands. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope it helps.” He looks into my eyes as he takes the bill. He thanks me profusely. Then the light turns green. I press on the gas, and drive my son home for lunch. I can’t get the man’s gaze out of my head. That split second when our lives intersected. There was beauty in that man.

……..

“We need new tires,” my husband informs me. So I trudge off to Les Schwab. In case you didn’t already know….waiting anywhere with a toddler is somewhat daunting. The lady at the counter says it will be an hour and a half. I go waste some time at Starbucks and Fred Meyer, but when I get back to the waiting room there are still 45 minutes left…if the estimate was correct. I settle in for a stressful time. We read some books. I give my son some grapes, crackers, and water. We inspect the texture of the table top and the fabric on the chairs. I chase him a bit through the rows of tires and stop him from making hand prints on the glass doors. I sing him “Old McDonald,” and smile at the other people who are watching (and listening).

And then I realize. This is not bad. This is not bad at all. I have 45 minutes to be with my son. Even if it is not in the comfort of my own home where there is no one to watch and judge me as a parent. Even if there are not a lot of toys….I am with my son. I watch him toddle a ways, and I see the way his hair sticks out funny on the side. I see his eyes light up when they meet mine. I see the cracker crumbs still on his chin. I watch him spinning to the music. I watch him wander towards the door, and rush back to my side when a stranger comes his way. It is beautiful, this time I have to focus on him.