Discovering Beauty

Kansas gets a bad rap.

I'm from Kansas. And over time, I've been fortunate to be able to travel to a lot of different places all over the country. Whenever I tell people in another location that I'm from Kansas, they never say, "Oh wow, that's such a lovely area." Nope. Not once. Instead, they say things like, "Oh....it's so flat there," or "Yeah, I had to drive through Kansas once on my way to Colorado. Longest day of my life," or "Then I guess you're not in Kansas anymore!" Hilarious.

People get down on a place like Kansas because they don't think it has the same sort of natural wonder that many other areas do. It doesn't have great forests or mountains or beaches or waterfalls. People think it just have a lot of wheat fields. And their perception is true, I suppose. There are a lot of wheat fields, and the state is relatively flat, and there are vast stretches to real estate where you won't see too many people. But I don't think that this means Kansas lacks beauty.

I've been living in Cincinnati, Ohio for about six months, and last month I was able to go back to Kansas for a few days. As I was crossing the Missouri-Kansas border on Interstate 70, the sun was beginning to set. And it was the best sunset I have seen in a long time. The sky was on fire. The entire thing glowed in a brilliant orange. I could see the horizon miles in the distance, and I could see the opposite horizon in my rear view mirror, and the entire space in between signaled that the sun was calling it a night.

In Kansas, the sky is big. When I walk out my parents' front door, I can see for a ways in almost any direction, and the expanse of the sky stretches from one horizon to the other. During the day, I might be able to go outside and see huge white clouds hanging in the sky. At dusk, I can see orange and red streaks in the clouds as the sun descends. And at night, I can see the stars arranged in their constellations.

In Cincinnati, the sky isn't that big. When I walk outside, I can't see more than about a hundred yards in any direction. There are too many hills and trees and buildings. So the sunsets aren't as majestic, and the stars aren't as bright. This isn't to say that Cincinnati doesn't have its own beauty. It's just different. In the fall, all of those trees shift colors and drop their leaves. I can also go to my school's library and look out the window at a view that overlooks downtown.

Different places possess their own beauty, and it's unique to that location. I've been able to see Pacific sunsets and Arizonian deserts, Kansas constellations and snow-capped Rockies, Appalachian foliage and Manhattan skyscrapers. None of these things looks like the other, but they're still beautiful. Even when you might think a place is devoid of beauty, it can be found.

I've been thinking about how this truth my be valid in other spheres of existence. In people, for instance. Every day, you probably encounter people who don't seem very beautiful. I work at a large retail store, and I have to deal with people who are rude and inconsiderate and loud on an hourly basis. Not everyone walks into the store with graceful radiance. So it can be easy for me to dismiss people--to let my interaction with them be brisk and hurried. To just sleep in the car during a drive through Kansas. But I think that in each person, there is some beauty to be found. It just might not be accessible on the surface. So whether it's your neighbor, roommate, coworker, in-law, or whoever, it might be good to try to find the beauty in people.

It may be that this also applies to how we think of seasons of our lives. I think that for each of us, there are times in life that we love and we wish we could stay in forever, but then there are others that we wish we could just skip over, just like we fast-forward through the commercials when we record a TV show. It's because we think that some times lack beauty. I've hinted at it in previous posts, and maybe I've stated it explicitly, but the season of life I'm currently in isn't the most enjoyable. It often feels like my life has stalled out. I've got friends that are starting their real lives, beginning new ministries, forming new relationships, getting married, and starting to look more and more like grown-ups. I, on the other hand, am still in school, do the same job my sister did when she was 17, and eat frozen pizzas on a too-regular basis.

But there has to be beauty here. It's just hard to find, sometimes. This chapter of my story doesn't look as exciting as my years in college or preschool (I love Play-Doh), and it might not be as exciting as the years ahead of me. But it's where I am, and certainly it's not void of value. There is beauty here. Maybe you too are at a place in your life where you feel stuck in some ways. The temptation is to just zone out until a time with more obvious beauty begins, but I would encourage you to find the beauty where and when you are. I think it's there. Sometimes we just have to dig a little.

This morning I watched the series finale of Extreme Makover Home Edition, in which they built seven homes for seven families in Joplin. If you have some time, check it out at ABC. Continue thinking of and praying for Joplin. Every time I hear about it, I'm reminded just how much I love and miss that city.

Also, yesterday I started a Twitter account, so if you're interested, you can follow me @DavidHeffren.

I'm sure you were all cheering for the Steelers in the playoffs, and they're now eliminated. I share your grief. Who are you going for now?