Multitude Monday XV: The Ugly-Beautiful

"One act of thanksgiving,

when things go wrong with us,

is worth a thousand thanks when things

are agreeable to our inclinations."

- St. John of Avila

quoted in One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

This post was originally supposed to be one thing, but like a butterfly in reverse, it morphed strangely into something unexpected. 

If I'd written it at three o'clock last Friday,  it would have glowed with radiant descriptions (maybe even a poem!) of an afternoon spent enjoying the great outdoors with our friends and their dog. I'd probably have alluded to Charlotte Mason's "breezy open wherein it always seemeth afternoon."  

At three fifteen, you might have found me musing on how spoiled I felt by the gift of a lazy afternoon to bask in the sun with my friend, watching our kids play and swapping the stories of motherhood that always made us feel less alone. 

(Psst .. Here they're eating lunch, but three minutes later these two seven year olds were sitting there knitting. No lie.)

I mean, don't you want to be there? Kids, dogs, coolers, fishing poles, knitting needles, and all? 

At three twenty five, we returned to the parking lot of the out-of-the-way city park, hot, weary, thirsty, but contented.

Then we saw it.

A window out of Stef's car, completely splintered and lying on the ground.

Both of our purses gone from our cars.

Her son's iPod touch -- vanished.

At three thirty, the scene looked like this. I was a bit too busy to take pictures, so use your imagination: Two moms, pacing around their cars and talking on their phone to husbands and police officers. Children, wailing, keening, firing off questions. Dogs, barking. Shards of glass, everywhere.

As I drove home, treading delicately around my children's dawning realization that someone ill-intentioned was now in possession of our home address, what began to penetrate the whirling vortex of my consciousness was this:

"What if that which feels like trouble, gravel in the mouth, is only that -- feeling? What if faith says all is ... I think it. But do I really mean it?"

It's one thing to read Ann's words in this book, nodding agreeably, highlighting, thinking, Oh yes. Mmmhmmm, so insightful. I quite concur. 


It's quite another thing to put it all into hard practice. Will I take ALL as a gift from a loving Father's hand, and open my own tight hand to receive it? Will I celebrate the apparently ugly  along with the clearly beautiful? Will I say "yes" with thanksgiving -- in everything?

By His grace alone, I will. 

"The hard discipline [is] to lean into the ugly and whisper thanks to transfigure it into beauty."

Still counting the gifts, making the ugly beautiful ...

149. Safe, unharmed children -- worth more and more and more again than any plastic card.

150. Being drawn together in the face of adversity.

151. A lovely afternoon that can't be undone -- a joy that can't be stolen -- by a shiftless guy with a hammer and without a conscience.

152. The kindness of a stranger -- the man who found our purses roadside and messaged me on Facebook to let me know. We got back everything but the licenses, credit cards, and iPod -- naturally.

153. Lessons learned about leaving valuables in parking lots, even at seemingly unlikely places. (According to the police detective, even leaving cellphone chargers and iPod adapters in plain view can invite a break-in.)

154. Praying with the kids for the perpetrator. Perhaps no one has prayed for him in a while?

155. Kids learning that people are more important than things.

156. Adults learning that people are more important than things.