Beauty is there to be noticed. We need to pay attention.

This phrase was written by Luci Shaw, who died last year aged ninety-six after a full and active life. I recently discovered and fell in love with her writings about her many adventures. Her erudite prose and poetry are richly filled with lean images; each word weighted and appropriate in its context. She points beyond herself.

I read her words with wonder. Intuitively, I knew she eloquently articulates the wordless thoughts that float around my head, although I had to work to fully grasp her meaning. She spoke of the beauty God has placed on our planet and in our lives as a gift. Also of the ability he has given us to appreciate and respond to that beauty as blessing.

Shaw’s words revealed something more of God’s heart towards mankind and of his character. He did not create beauty solely for his own pleasure but for ours too. I began to recall moments when beauty has imprinted itself on my mind. Gorgeous summer roses laden with scent. The majestic mountains whose peaks ascend above the clouds and the babble of cool waters cascading down a rocky stream.

Beauty is all around us, yet most poignant when found in unexpected places, such as amid the pain of suffering where family and friendships shine. Or when a child’s laughter dispels heaviness and ushers in joy. Or the countless simple meals shared with friends which turns into a treasured memory.

Beauty, in whatever form it takes, draws us to itself. More, it leaves an imprint on our minds.

I have a bowl that belonged to an aunt who died last year. It is filled with seashells and sits on top of a chest of drawers in our bedroom. I love its colours and textured finish. The bowl is handcrafted by a small company whose founder wanted to create pottery that was unique and aesthetically pleasing.

The bowl is old and, I recently learned, quite valuable. The valuation does not add to the beauty, but it is nice to know that it is appreciated by others. I see the bowl and remember: not the pottery or the potter, but my aunt’s laughter, the little phrases she often used as well as the times she was stern.

Because the bowl belonged to my aunt, it has a way of redirecting my thoughts.

I wonder. That old bowl and its seashells; are they little examples of how God calls us to see beauty? Does he want us to look beyond the scene to see the designer? As God redirects our gaze, his character comes into focus, with glimpses of tenderness, goodness, love and his never-ending grace. The beauty in our lives is a gift and a blessing.

© copyright Gillian Newham 2026