Lessons From A Broken Begonia
Something has been heavy on my heart for the last few days, but I couldn’t figure out how to express it until I saw these photos from yesterday.
My social media feeds and stories have been full of differing opinions about the outcome of Tuesday’s election. I’m not surprised by it, but here’s what has made me want to jump up and down: each party is quick to call out the brokenness of the other, but so often unwilling to look in the mirror and admit, or even see, the brokenness of its own.
I might step on some toes here, but the hypocrisy of it all has been staggering.
And what has struck me most is how rarely people seem curious about what’s really at the heart of another person that isn’t someone they support. The R or D seems to have become the measure that defines how our society largely sees people. And yet, if we look at the letter of the person we support, there is brokenness there too.
Every single human being is a combination of brokenness and beauty. And it seems we are ALWAYS focused on the brokenness of the "opposing" candidate, rarely making an attempt to discover their beauty. I am so tired of watching and listening to people define others by the R and the D.
Yesterday, I went outside after a rain shower with my camera. There is nothing more beautiful than flowers covered in raindrops or morning dew. And yesterday was even more magical than usual. As I sat, captivated by the red begonias, I returned to different blooms over and over, photographing them from different angles.
I remember the one pictured. It was hard to get to, but its center was breathtaking. The tinges of yellow, the water spilling out of its petals. I couldn't get enough of it.
And then this morning, I sat down to go through the photos, and for the first time, I saw the broken petal.
Looking at the order of my photographs, I realized I had returned to this same bloom three different times. Three times! And even with that torn petal right in front of me, I was so captivated by the beauty of its center that I never noticed its brokenness.
And it hit me.
What if I asked more questions, not to challenge or prove a point, but to understand?
What if I learned to explore the core, the heart of people, rather than defining them by what looks broken, often NOT based on facts or what I actually know, but simply on my opinion?
What if my search was for a person's beauty instead of their brokenness?
What would it be like to be so captivated by the beauty I see in people that their brokenness is no longer the defining thing about them?
And what if I remembered that sometimes what I define as brokenness is nothing more than my opinion, and sometimes it’s an opinion not very well informed by facts?
None of this means ignoring what is wrong or refusing to hold people accountable. But surely there is more to a human being than the things with which I disagree.
If this country is going to heal, maybe it begins with seeing each other with grace, not with disdain, self-righteousness, or whatever else may lurk in the brokenness of our own souls.
The broken petal was there all along. I just didn't see it because I was so captivated by the beauty.
I wonder what might change in our conversations, our relationships, and even our country if we became more curious about the hearts of people rather than the labels we place on them?
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