The EYE of the BEHOLDER

If life is a journey, as it seems to be, then the train we’re riding has provided us with miles and miles of observations. Some good, some foolish, some hard to judge. 

I’ve always heard the phrase “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” but I’ve never considered its true meaning. Last night, during my visit to see my friend Jerri, who resides at the Arizona state prison, the combination of beauty, eyes and beholder came to my attention.

As I was boarding the bus that took me to her yard at Perryville, I felt anticipation for our typical three hour conversation. While I came to visit her, I knew I’d be the one to receive something of great value, and that’s just what happened. 

Her view of life is rooted in her faith, and even though she’d like to be living somewhere else, she sees beauty in her current surroundings. I’m  struck by the way she views her situation, her incarceration, her recent operation and new lease on life. Even as she waits for her return to the “free world,” her face is more free of stress and anxiety than most people I know. I wonder why. 

Four months ago, abdominal pain caused her to be taken to the hospital for surgery—and at one point the doctor didn’t know if she would live or not. Cancer was found and extracted. The surprising take-away for me is her statement: “When everything has been taken away from you…and only TIME stands between you and God, everything else you’ve been worried about falls away. What you fear becomes meaningless.”

Today is Jerri’s 65th birthday, and instead of begrudging or regretting her life circumstances, she counts the small blessings, gifts and treats that are coming her way. 

I wonder… 

Do we need to be incarcerated to see the “beauty” of our personal freedom?

Is a near-death experience necessary to “behold” the world in all its glory?

I hope not.  How we see has less to do with our circumstances and more with our capacity for gratitude.

On this journey of life, may we: ask good questions, take note when we see joy-filled living, count what’s beautiful,  and be open to lessons that show up in unexpected places.  

I raise my caffe latte to you today, as we move together towards the next station. 

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