In the Eye of the Beholder

Beauty is all around me. And, sometimes I see it in the simplest of things, such as a black-and-white picture of a not-quite-developed human being—beautiful because it’s the first time we’ve seen her distinguishable features, and beautiful, because, she’s my granddaughter.

Having grown up in Alabama, and having spent most of my adult life in Kentucky and Tennessee, I most often find natural beauty in hills and flowers, and in mountains and trees. My fondest teenage memories are from summer camp experiences spent at Ridgecrest Baptist Conference Center, nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains just outside Asheville, North Carolina. And I found that same beauty in the places we’ve lived, rolling hills of Kentucky and Tennessee, especially in the fall, when the leaves of the trees were vibrant reds and yellows, oranges and greens.

Shortly after I moved to Houston, while on one of UBC’s mission-building experiences on the Navajo reservation in New Mexico, I was visiting with the pastor of Living Springs Church. We were sitting on a rock not far from the spring of water for which the church was named, and the pastor spoke of a trip he had made to Alabama, at the invitation of a church that had been out one summer to help Living Springs. Excitedly, I asked, “Didn’t you just love it?” And his response was quick and matter-of-factly, “Not really.”


“You didn’t like the big trees, and the lush, rolling green hills,” I asked. “Nope,” he replied, “couldn’t see the sky.” And I was reminded again that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Virginia, where I’ve been for almost two weeks, and Richmond, where I’ve spent most of my time, is a beautiful place—TO ME! It has all the things that make a place beautiful—TO ME!. The weather has been phenomenal, with warm days soothed by cool breezes, a little rain, mostly in the evenings, and very pleasant, cool nights.

Giant trees cover the landscape, so even when it’s a little warm, shade is not far away. And the May flowers are gorgeous.

Maymont is a getaway in the city. A natural preserve near the James River, it covers acres and acres of land, and it is filled with gardens of roses, waterfalls, exotic plants, birds and other wildlife. I took my Hardees dinner (man, I wish we had the thickburgers in Houston) and sat in the open fields of Maymont last evening, taking in the beauty of God’s creation. And then I walked through glorious rose gardens, and exotic Japanese gardens, by noisy waterfalls surrounded by giant trees that swayed in the cool breeze of evening. It sounds so weak to say it, but it was beautiful!

The other beauty in Richmond is, in my eye, the architecture, particularly houses and churches. Many of these have stood for more than 100 years, and maybe some, I would guess, for almost 200 years.

Earlier yesterday, I walked in an area near Boulevard and Broad, and saw some of these old houses and churches up close. Many of these are offices now (often for attorneys, I noticed), and some are apartment buildings, but they still have that beauty of character of an age long-gone. For some people, and I’m sure for those who live here, old means worn-out, in need of repair, and failing. But for me, there is beauty in this old city. Maybe growing old isn’t as bad as I once thought.

Care-full-y,
rick