My EC and I returned from a brief road trip yesterday. I was especially attentive to the scenery, because I have been preparing a Sunday School lesson about the Creation. One of the points the lesson material makes is that we should look for, and appreciate, the beauty of God’s creations.
You wanna know what I saw? Some really ugly countryside. Desolate. Here I am preparing to make a case that God has given us this beautiful earth to enjoy because He loves us, and I was looking out the window thinking, “Then I wonder how He must feel towards the people who live here!”
I was being facetious, of course, (kinda) but it did engender an interesting conversation. There are truly some places on earth that are spectacularly gorgeous. Breathtaking. Majestic.
There are also places on this earth that are devastatingly barren. Lifeless. Ugly.
Could I tell people living in one of those places that God created all of this beauty for them? Not with a straight face.
But then, as often happens, my wise EC began talking about how beauty might not be obvious, but that sometimes we have to look for it.
It reminded me of a time we were traveling in Ireland – a land overflowing with beauty. We were exhausted, and found a little park in a small town near Shannon. We had a blanket with us, and spread it out on the grass under some trees. It was a perfect day.
While we were relaxing, my EC said, “Look up.”
I did.
Above us, the sun was shining through the leaves. Not just in-between them, but through them. Every vein was highlighted as the leaves were made somewhat translucent. It was beautiful. And so simple. And there was great beauty in the simplicity. We stayed for quite a while, enjoying the view above us, and trying to capture the image. We tried, but a camera didn’t do it justice.
When I think back to Ireland, I think of those leaves before I think of the countryside.
Back to our conversation in the car – we continued talking about finding beauty where we could, and not just where it was glaringly obvious.
– In the detail of a leaf.
– In a tiny flower.
– In a snow covered field.
– In an icicle.
– In the delicacy of a butterfly’s wings.
– The way the light casts a shadow.
– In the contours and cracks of rocks and land.
Even if we can’t find the beauty in front of us, or are surrounded by ugliness, we can usually find it – above us.
– In the clouds.
– In birds flying in formation.
– In building storms.
– In the dramatic beauty of lightning.
– In the rising and setting of the sun.
Or when there is absolutely nothing on the earth we can bring ourselves to recognize as beautiful, we can look up in the night sky and see the majesty of God’s creations, and their beauty.
– In the stars.
– In the moon.
– In the infinite.
No matter how ugly things are, there is still beauty all around, if we are willing to seek it out, and recognize it.
“Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God’s handwriting – a wayside sacrament.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Note to my readers living along the Wasatch Front: If the inversion has settled in, you might have to search harder for beauty than most everyone else. Good luck with that.
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This reminded me of the time my sister and I were driving through Wyoming at high noon in what had to be the most desolate piece of country ever. I mentioned to my sister that my husband, an artist, always says that every place is beautiful in just the right light. She laughed and rolled her eyes and said something to the effect of “yah, good luck with that one here!”
A week later, on the way home, we happened to be driving through the same area in the evening–the sun was almost down (no mountains–just huge expanse) and the entire sky and clouds were stretched out and literally GLOWING red from the light. It was so breathtaking we had to pull over and get out! Now we, too, are believers of the idea that every place can have it’s beauty…
My husband and I also were driving through the salt flats once and the sun and fog were just so that whole place was shimmering like a holograph. It was the coolest, most surreal thing I have ever witnessed.
On the other hand, I have driven through the North East a lot, and it is pretty everywhere. All the time. Green. Green. Green. It makes me think there is something to the idea that when you experience the ugly the sweet is so much more breathtaking.
Let me guess – you were driving on I-80 through Wyoming –
I’m sure there are some people from Wyoming who would take exception to that.
Some of us have no idea what an EC is…
Eternal Companion. You must be new around here… welcome!
Sadly in some cases we have not been good stewards of the beautiful earth created for us. Sometimes the ugliness we see is the result of the greedy or careless land management practices of individuals, businesses and government.
Very true. Although I think some areas are just the product of unskilled pre mortal help.
One of my good friend is from Holland, and he thinks it is dreary and depressing because the sun never shines. I, who have never been (outside) in Holland, but who loves coastal Oregon/Washington (because the clouds and rain make me happy) think that sounds like a dream. He opened my eyes to the beauties of the Wasatch Front; the skyline and the shining sun and the wonders of the desert, though, because he thought it was so beautiful. The Salt Flats are dead, but I think it is such a beautiful (albeit fierce) place.
On another note, when we first arrived in Stuttgart (where we were planning to live for a year) I looked at the graffiti and the cement buildings and the dirty U-Bahn platforms and thought it was the ugliest place on earth. It is amazing (as you noted with the Wasatch Front) that we can take a place that is naturally so beautiful and abuse it until it is beyond recognition.
And with that, the ‘granola’ in me is resurfacing, so I better sign off. 🙂
Growing up in Idaho, serving a mission in Asia, and growing my family in the East, we have always lived in lush areas. On one of our last moves, we flew from Germany to Los Angeles, arriving just before sunset. We then drove to the Garden spot mentioned by Mikaeru above. It was dark when we got to the hotel and couldn’t see the scenery. In the morning my EC opened the curtains, then closed them. She turned to me and asked “If I open the other curtain will it look any different?”
I am a landscape and scenery person. I love the colors of the world. It took moving to the Mojave desert for me to learn to love and appreciate the subtleties that are out there. The stark contrast of the Dutch tulip fields are awesome, the lushness of a tropical jungle is amazing, and the comfort that comes from looking out over a hardwood forest or fields of grain or hay can never be overstated. When you see the world through night vision goggles, everything is green. I don’t think I ever appreciated the beauty of starkness until I was “forced” to live in it. And, wow. The desert of the Southwest is where I have chosen to retire. I still enjoy the greenery, and my EC and I loved our trip through the woods of upstate New York and Vermont a couple of years ago. But I really don’t even know how to describe what I feel about being in the desert and the wonders and beauty of this portion of creation. I sometimes wonder if it is part of how Father teaches us. He gives us something that nobody else wants, then makes it precious to us and shows us its hidden beauty.
When I came home from my mission in Australia to the dry, gray desert of Eastern Utah, I felt the contrast. But then I worked for one of the national parks and spent the first two weeks of the job hiking and really experiencing God’s creation up close. Most importantly I learned. Education has increased my awareness of things I had not noticed before like the diversity of vegetation and the effect it has in the ecosystem, the fascinating effects of the uplifts when two underground faults collide to reveal layers and layers of geology. I used to think, “The different colors in the rocks are pretty.” Now I know more about the complex process God uses in His creation. The more we learn about His creations the more we appreciate them, the more capacity we have to honor and bring glory to Him. Noticing is the first step, but learning is the step that shows our effort and honors his efforts made in our behalf. Noticing the very smallest of details is often where I find the most delight, (the complexity of the orchid, the crystal of a snowflake, the craftsmanship of the human hand). Oh . . . God is good!
And sometimes the beauty is in the people who inhabit the place. I love desert and mountain and all in between but there are beautiful people everywhere!
I always thought the Mojave Desert immediately South of Death Valley had to be the ugliest place on the face of the earth until I spent several weeks there training with the US Army at Ft Irwin. Sometimes it takes us some time lo learn the “language” of the beauty of some of God’s creations. In my travels around world, it seems to me that most if not all that is truly ugly has been the work of man; The beauty of God’s creation is in the eye of the beholder
This reminds me of Joseph Smiths first impressions of Missouri. When he first saw “Zion” he thought it was terrible. Hot and muggy and the land was barren compared to the New England area. He had an experience where the Lord turned his heart, and he began to see it differently. There were four natural seasons- there was a large variety of plants and animals- yes- it was ideal. The Lord does indeed look upon the heart- not just what we can immediately see- and if we ask him- he will show us the real deal.
I remember one day, as my mom and I were driving through Eastern New Mexico, making the comment, “this place is just dead.” I looked around and allI could see was dead sage brush and white dirt. We had recently moved from NJ where it was lush and green. To make matters worse we lived on the shore so going to the beach was a regular activity. To compare the lush green grass that met up with the sandy beaches and vast expanse of ocean to the mesquite bushes that grew around a dry wash outside of Roswell seemed unfair. I hated it. It took me about 20 years (I’m a slow learner) before I started to notice the amazing beauty of the setting sun in the desert, or the vast expanse of night stars visible when there are no city lights to wash out your view.
Recently I drove through AZ and it seemed so much easier to pick out the beauty of saguaro patches in the hills or be overcome by views that seem to stretch on forever as we crested the hills on our drive. I’m glad I don’t only see a dead place now. I’m happier because I was able to find the beauty. (Now my allergies are another issue. Still haven’t found the beauty in that).
I grew up in New Mexico and always thought that the landscape was pretty ugly (except the mountains.) Then I moved to NJ and now PA. I find myself getting anxious every spring when the buds appear on the trees because the leaves will soon close out the sky. By August, I’m so tired of green! It took a move across the country to appreciate the beauties of NM. There is nothing like a NM sunset with every color of the rainbow. Or a vibrant blue sky day without a cloud. Or pink mountains in the late afternoon. Or the desert, blossoming with wildflowers after a rain. The beauty is more subtle but very present.
I’m also teaching this lesson today. I’ve struggled a little with it–probably because of a difficult work week. Thanks for your thoughts. They’ve helped. And remember that we and the people around us are also God’s creations. I can find beauty in people no matter how icky the inversion gets.
Different people appreciate different scenery. For example, one of my favourite things was when we’d drive from the midlands to visit our relatives up north (in England). My dad would drive a route that would take us through the Moors. So bleak and forbidding and desolate! I loved it. There are all kinds of weirdos…I mean people…in this world, and God has created many different environments, every one of which at least one person finds beautiful and rejuvenating. 🙂
Great post. And yes, I’m searching. It usually involves a short drive to Park City or up the canyon to a ski resort.