Spend five minutes on the internet, and it isn’t difficult to find darkness. Endless war, shootings, plots of terrorism, car crashes, natural disasters, economic downturn, disorder and disconnection. It’s everywhere, it’s all encompassing. Every day feels like a real time reenactment of the book of Revelation.
It’s deeply visible from a personal standpoint, too. Miscommunication among old friends, division in a family after loss, misdirected anger. Illness and struggles with insurance companies and cars breaking down and travel plans going awry. Forgetting to water all your plants and then them all dying before you notice. Sin, on a corporate and on a personal level, is inescapable.
It is impossibly easy to spot the darkness.
One of my friends texted the other day absolutely struck by a Taylor Swift song—not a rare occurrence, but this was a lesser-known/appreciated song. Her song seven unpacks a past friendship in her youth—looking back on how the darkness found them and disrupted their innocence. Taylor reflects on how she wanted to rescue her friend. And though I can’t recall your face/I still got love for you.
My favorite line of the song is when Taylor asks a question I’ve found myself wondering often as of late: “are there still beautiful things?”
During the sermon at my grandmother’s memorial service, the pastor spoke about the “invisible things that last.” Namely, the promises she made (and kept) to my grandfather to stay by his side (in all the sickness and all the health) and the love she consistently showed to all of us. Her investments in her family and her friendships did not disappear when she passed. She’s been gone for two months, and I am undoubtedly still carrying my love for her. I still feel hers for me, too.
Amidst grief and all the complicated feelings that come along with it, I’ve felt myself wondering often for the beautiful things. And on the days when not one single thing feels to be going right, the through thread I find is always a steady love. Whether it’s shown through my friends praying for me over voice memo, my boyfriend showing grace over and over when I snap at him, a cardinal showing up on my walk, my dog licking away my tears, or just a really good donut, God’s kindness is undeniably visible. And even more noticeable when you’re actively looking for it.
I recently started a note in my phone entitled “good things are always happening to me,” per a recommendation from an Instagram Reel (how I’m making most of my decisions lately—especially what to have for lunch). Among others, so far on the list are: having food on the table every day, finding the perfect birthday present for my mom, and reality TV to watch and discuss with friends (it’s the little things). Moments of provision and moments of connection. Beautiful things that fill my heart with gratitude that we are gifted anything that lasts, let alone a love and a life that will last.
Olivia graduated from Calvin in May 2018 with a double major in business and writing. She now works as an editor in Nashville, Tennessee and is eating her way through the restaurants of her new town. She enjoys weekend trips with friends, petting other people’s dogs, and drinking coffee like a Gilmore Girl.
