Day 20--The Unseen
The older I get, the less I value the outside of a person. But, when most people look at our daughter Rose, that's the first and sometimes only thing they see. Her eyes. Her hair. Yes, she is a physically beautiful child, and although some piece of me is thankful for that--in the same sense that one would be thankful for the beauty of a literal rose--a bigger piece of me feels her appearance is a gargantuan distraction from her even more lovely unseen qualities.
I stumbled across this old cereal bowl this morning while looking for something else. It's part of a set of dishes I made for my mother during her later years when she was battling multiple sclerosis. She was also a physically beautiful person when younger; in fact, I think Rose's eyes hearken from her family. It was hard to watch my mother's life be taken from her, piece-by-piece, and I suppose I painted this bowl as a sort of touchstone. What is seen is indeed temporary...
All appearances are temporary. The outside is temporary. Yet our culture is enamored with the outside. We've made a very cult of the outside---clothing, homes, cars, our bodies, all material possessions. We primp and present a particular side of us, because we long not only to be seen, but to be seen in a certain light. To see ourselves in that certain light.
It's hard not to be blinded by this aspect of our culture. It is pervasive, ubiquitous, readily blinding. But the greater truth is that all that we see is fragile, temporal, fleeting. This is true whether we believe in God or not. Decay is all around us...in our environment, in our attics and basements, in our gardens, in our personal lives-- if we are honest. We have to continually combat and beat back the forces of time and neglect.
Although the Bible acknowledges this decay, it ultimately--thankfully--transcends it:
I stumbled across this old cereal bowl this morning while looking for something else. It's part of a set of dishes I made for my mother during her later years when she was battling multiple sclerosis. She was also a physically beautiful person when younger; in fact, I think Rose's eyes hearken from her family. It was hard to watch my mother's life be taken from her, piece-by-piece, and I suppose I painted this bowl as a sort of touchstone. What is seen is indeed temporary...
All appearances are temporary. The outside is temporary. Yet our culture is enamored with the outside. We've made a very cult of the outside---clothing, homes, cars, our bodies, all material possessions. We primp and present a particular side of us, because we long not only to be seen, but to be seen in a certain light. To see ourselves in that certain light.
It's hard not to be blinded by this aspect of our culture. It is pervasive, ubiquitous, readily blinding. But the greater truth is that all that we see is fragile, temporal, fleeting. This is true whether we believe in God or not. Decay is all around us...in our environment, in our attics and basements, in our gardens, in our personal lives-- if we are honest. We have to continually combat and beat back the forces of time and neglect.
Although the Bible acknowledges this decay, it ultimately--thankfully--transcends it:
"....as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." -2 Corinthians 4:18The things that are unseen....
Circling back to Rose, my favorite pieces of Rose are not so obvious as her eyes.
She has a fabulous sense of wit. She can read a person or a room almost instantly. She is deeply thoughtful and sensitive to others. She is tenacious and determined. She is tenderhearted, a great nurturer of the life.
For instance, I found a seedling growing in my dish drain two days ago---yes, the dish drain. I've never seen anything like this before, but apparently one of the seeds from a vegetable prep fell into the dish-drain, sprouted, grew, and was sustained by water from drying dishes. Amazing! The force of life never disappoints.
So, I guided the shoot out, ever so gently, from underneath the dishes. He had roots and all! Then, I placed him in one of the tiny vases on the kitchen window.
I told Rose about it yesterday in passing because I thought it interesting. She was instantly curious: What kind of seed is it? Where did it grow? How did it grow? "Ahhh....it's that nurturing piece of her coming out" I thought to myself, but I just went on doing the dishes. After all, life has no shortage of dishes...dish after dish after dish, no?
At dinner, Rose appeared with this:
Apparently, the seedling is a not a he, but a she. And her name is Alice. Rose moved her to a prettier vase and made her a future home complete with "a pretty stone to decorate." She rummaged through my gardening supplies for these notions. The saucer is sitting on a log slice with a doily to dress it all up.
I realize this may seem trivial, even petty--the musings of a doting parent. But this in essence, is what I see most strikingly in Rose. Not her eyes. Not her hair. Not those things that are easy, cheap, readily visible to the casual observer or captured by a photograph.
I treasure her unseen qualities, the seemingly invisible parts of Rose---her heart for the forgotten, her desire to rescue and elevate life, to render it special, beautiful....
Such qualities in others--in ourselves--these are what we should focus upon, what we should elevate. The physical will pass, our bodies will pass, even the earth will pass. But the invisible things--the fostering or neglecting of our spirits--these will triumph over the abuse of time, they will outlast our outsides, they will last forever.
She has a fabulous sense of wit. She can read a person or a room almost instantly. She is deeply thoughtful and sensitive to others. She is tenacious and determined. She is tenderhearted, a great nurturer of the life.
For instance, I found a seedling growing in my dish drain two days ago---yes, the dish drain. I've never seen anything like this before, but apparently one of the seeds from a vegetable prep fell into the dish-drain, sprouted, grew, and was sustained by water from drying dishes. Amazing! The force of life never disappoints.
So, I guided the shoot out, ever so gently, from underneath the dishes. He had roots and all! Then, I placed him in one of the tiny vases on the kitchen window.
I told Rose about it yesterday in passing because I thought it interesting. She was instantly curious: What kind of seed is it? Where did it grow? How did it grow? "Ahhh....it's that nurturing piece of her coming out" I thought to myself, but I just went on doing the dishes. After all, life has no shortage of dishes...dish after dish after dish, no?
At dinner, Rose appeared with this:
Apparently, the seedling is a not a he, but a she. And her name is Alice. Rose moved her to a prettier vase and made her a future home complete with "a pretty stone to decorate." She rummaged through my gardening supplies for these notions. The saucer is sitting on a log slice with a doily to dress it all up.
I realize this may seem trivial, even petty--the musings of a doting parent. But this in essence, is what I see most strikingly in Rose. Not her eyes. Not her hair. Not those things that are easy, cheap, readily visible to the casual observer or captured by a photograph.
I treasure her unseen qualities, the seemingly invisible parts of Rose---her heart for the forgotten, her desire to rescue and elevate life, to render it special, beautiful....
Such qualities in others--in ourselves--these are what we should focus upon, what we should elevate. The physical will pass, our bodies will pass, even the earth will pass. But the invisible things--the fostering or neglecting of our spirits--these will triumph over the abuse of time, they will outlast our outsides, they will last forever.
Comments