Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say.
Sometimes clichés are cheesy. Sometimes they are true.
I remember coming across a picture several years ago that left me captivated. It was inspiring. Tender. Heartfelt. It was beautiful.
I was so taken by this picture that I set it as my desktop background at work, during my pre-kid days as a full-time editor. I felt blessed to glance up and see this visual masterpiece throughout my day.
But not everyone thought it was beautiful.
In fact, one dear coworker shrieked in startle and disgust when she turned from her nearby workstation and saw this.
My friend saw venous wrinkles, sagging skin, and bulging knuckles.
I saw a different picture.
The story behind each wrinkle. Surely years of struggle and faith behind every line. And like the wedding ring on her aged finger, I saw a life marked by commitment and devotion, not only to her husband but to her Lord.
I couldn’t see her face but I could see her heart. I couldn’t pick her out of a line up but I wanted my life to look like hers. Beautiful.
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