Let the Roses Win

How parenthood and pain can help us see the unsung beauty in our lives

Hey there, this is Kelly with a word before we begin.

My ego tells me you’re here to read my words, so I’ve never published guest posts. My soul, however, reassures me you’re here for whatever beauty happens to come through my words. Or the words of others. So, today, I’m listening to my soul and happy to introduce a guest post from a kindred spirit.

Matthew Sloane

is a husband, father, coach and author of short, illustrated, heart-opening men's fiction. At Fatherhood Dojo, he helps dads live in greater authenticity with their deepest selves. In this post, he’s going to help you see the beauty you’re missing right in front of you.

And now, here’s Matthew…

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One of my thumbs is swollen right now. I smashed it while moving some large rocks in our backyard.

I never noticed how much I need that thumb to:

• put on pants;

• squeeze the toothpaste;

• pick up my son;

• open a door.

My thumbs are my unsung heroes, every day providing me with ways to navigate my physical world.

Thank you, thumbs. I miss you, thumb on my right hand. I mean, you’re there, but now I’m caring for you. I miss you caring for me. I promise to give you an ice bath later.

I’ve ignored my beautiful thumbs for too long. Is this how beauty in our world feels at times? Unacknowledged?

Is this pain what I needed to pause and recognize their beauty?

As a parent, I have many reasons to focus on everything calling for my attention that does not naturally feel very beautiful:

• wiping poop off a butt;

• seeing the half hour to get to school dwindle with little progress;

• the screams in response to being given the wrong water bottle;

• the mollusk-like grasp of tiny arms on my leg while I’m holding a baking dish full of hot oil.

I carry stress in the morning on school days. I associate being on time with being respectful to commitments and people. So being late causes me to suffer. Being late feels like I am out of integrity.

This morning, as I ate my eggs with my swollen thumb in a homemade splint, I saw our roses through the dining room window. They are blooming now. First the time this season.

As I looked, I resisted taking in that beauty. My attachment to time had taken hold. And yet, the beauty of one particular rose seemed to say to me,

“You can be stressed if you want. But I am still here and I am still beautiful.”

I felt as if I had to choose. One or the other:

• The stress of being late to my kid’s school, or…

• The beauty of the rose.

“You don’t have to choose,” the rose said. “You only need to see that I am beautiful. What you do with your stress is your choice.”

I took another bite of eggs. The rose wouldn’t take its eyes off of me.

The rose repeated, “Even if you are distracted, I am still beautiful.”

Morning light—the kind of heavenly light that photographers schedule their family photo shoots around—poured in through the window frame. I must have appeared “paused” to my children. My head tilted slightly to one side. My spoon of egg part-way off the table. My mouth ajar.

The rose won.

The rose is undeniably beautiful. If I had a photograph of that particular rose, I’m not sure I would share it with you because the beauty of the rose is not to be proven. The beauty of the rose is only to be witnessed, like I might witness through tears a singer who has cracked open their heart, or a father who has released control and allowed connection.

I pray that I might be open to recognizing that beauty exists around me no matter my state of mind or that of others.

Beauty has been my unsung hero of late. But not today. Today this rose sings to me. This rose beams at me. This rose is teaching me how to be a father today. How to open my heart even as time dwindles.

Beauty—everyday calling me to more mindfully navigate my physical world.

May the thumbs and the roses of the world be seen and loved.

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You can enjoy an AUDIO or VIDEO conversation between Matthew and me about the complexities of connection and the beauty of learning to open our hearts to the people we love, by clicking the image below.

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Also, we’d love to hear more from you. What is the unsung beauty in your life? Share it in the comments and together we’ll give beauty some of its due! Not feeling comment-y? No problem. We’d also appreciate it if you’d hit the heart and/or the spinny-circle button below. Thank you!