The Invasion of Beauty by Lillie Duncan

Pain is life's true initiation. Grief is the treacherous journey through the darkness of that pain. And the wound is the origin place of that pain; it is the place where grief begins and ends. In the end, the wound is where the gift is found. After years of long-suffering, surviving the death of loved ones, and feeling my way through the brokenness in this world, I wish it were only so simple to say these truths and be freed from the burden that must be carried.

I have seen ways around the burden to detach from the parts of myself that can not possibly bear the depth of pain grief is asking me to feel. I have often taken that path, sometimes out of choice and sometimes out of a lack of awareness, mere survival. The danger of bypassing the burden, skipping the grief, and suppressing the pain is that eventually, like a plague of blackness, it will begin to slowly consume from the inside out. There may be temporary, lighthearted surface-level happiness on the outside, or maybe there is no feeling at all, just numbness. To some degree, numbness seems better than the prospect of falling into the depth of despair. But beneath the surface, in the well-worn cracks of the soul, that darkness spreads in and through the tender places. Grief demands pain to be felt, and it is felt one way or another. Either through sickness, through relationships, through mental health, or through the generational passing down.

It had been years since I had stood at the edge of that horizon. The air was crisp, and beneath the wind was a prophetic whisper. The water fell into the side of the cliff, reaching upwards every time. Seemingly, this rocky coast edge felt much like the end of myself, to which I had come heavy laden. I worked my way dangerously close to the side down to where the earth and water met. As the sun began to set, it left a golden reflection that I followed in remembrance. The feel of the bitter water temperature reminded me of how my own red sea had opened for me at one point in time in the winter of my own life.

It had opened, miracles were shown, salvation covered me, and I was free.

I was free but still bound by this flesh. And in this flesh, the pain had started to catch up with me. One loss after another seemed to tap into the great well of pain felt across humanity for all ages. The depth of my pain was overwhelming to the point that there wasn't much else in this world that I could bear feeling. I had begun detaching from everything and everyone in an effort of survival.  I had to come back to this coastline to remember and wrestle with eternal truths, and beneath it, all find the ones that could open the sea for me again.

My eyes took in the scenes around me. I closed my eyes and felt the slow crawl of emotion come from some bottomless pit in my core. It worked its way up through the fire in my chest, to the closed door in my throat, and melted away all reserve. Tears began to emerge. Salt to salt. I melted to my knees, surrounded by earth and water. The pain had found me as I stood at the edge that day. Grief beckoned me to taste the salt that heals. To feel what's left to be felt. It challenged me to open my senses back up to a world that, like myself, is groaning in anticipation for His coming, but even still marked by beauty. In that moment of pure surrender, as my body dropped to the sand, the invasion of beauty all around broke through me. It was life. It was creation singing that goodness still lives in the land of the living. As the waters rushed in and surrounded my weeping body, golden reflections marked me and told a story. One of beauty, surrender and belonging. I am nature, created and formed by the Maker. My grief, held by the hands and love of this earth through the Holy Spirit. In my desperation, in the depths of my unraveling, the gift within the wound was found. I was able to feel something other than my pain. I could feel the invasion of beauty in our world once more. I found the eternal truth that I had once lost; creation was created from love as a pathway to belonging and as a supernatural gift to aid in our healing just by merely gazing upon its beauty.

The beauty of creation doesn't erase; it just invites me to step into my pain, to feel what is left to feel. Then it asks me to boldly remember and proclaim that the sun still rises even after the darkest of nights.

It is the beauty of creation that holds me close, reminds me of my rightful place in all things, and testifies to me of His goodness until He comes and makes all things new. 

I am a believer, wife, mother, poet, writer, photographer, and student of this life. I use my gifts, words, and photography to illuminate the light of connection, attachment, and love within the motherhood journey. I have been a professional photographer for 11 years, and of all the beauty I have captured, motherhood resonates the deepest.

When I am not mothering, I am writing and reading. I use this online space to really speak into what it looks like to walk through intentional motherhood.

You can find out more about Lillie at www.lillieduncan.com.