I was disturbed, disturbed in mind and spirit. Needing to think, I headed out side for a walk. My favorite two places in the world lie on our farm. I go there to think, pray and take really cool pictures. This time it was for the former two options. I settled myself in the best thinking spot ever; an ash tree whose trunk split in half about two feet of the ground. One side grew straight up while the other curved off to the left forming a perfect seat. The sunlight dancing through the trees marbled the ferns and mossy roots on the grove floor. I leaned back against the trunk and gazed through the branches to a clear blue sky. A single white contrail marred the seamless ocean of blue staring back at me. I looked down at a little bug struggling across my jeans. He perched on my knee and stared at me, his antennas twitching curiously. I put my thumb down and he cautiously stepped aboard, carefully feeling ahead to see if it was safe to proceed. A clumsy little thing, he promptly fell off my finger and landed in my palm. As he crawled across it, I studied him. He was just shy of a half an inch long with the majority of his length lying in two perfect, transparent wings. Each vein, a light brown color, sharp in contrast to the almost clear wings. Every movement was perfect. He was Beautiful. Every centimeter of his being sang his creators praise and creativity. A breath of wind blew my beautifully clumsy friend off my palm and away. As I pondered what I had just seen, I began applying it to myself. By all standards of the world I would not call my self Beautiful or even Pretty. I looked at my hand where the bug had just been; each finger and joint so perfectly formed. Thinking of the design and handiwork of my creator I was awestruck. Though to the world I am just another face, to Him I am Beautiful. Beautiful, because I am His.
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