Our culture is obsessed with it. But what exactly is beauty? It's probably a perfect face, flawless hair and who has their life all together, just like magazines and the tv tell us all the time.
But wipe away the makeup, look at someone's hair when they've first gotten up, learn about their secrets. They don't look the same, the 'perfection' is gone. It was all just an illusion.
But I see beauty in the bruise that reminds you of when you tripped over your own feet and fell. The memory that still makes you laugh hysterically with your friends about your lack of grace.
A peanut butter smudge on your shirt. The result of the child that was so excited to hug you that they couldn't wait for you to clean them up first.
The battered car that was full of survivors after the accident.
The tears that come when someone realizes that they can't do it by themselves... And the friend who holds their hand until they can stop crying and see that things will get better.
The pair of shoes both muddy and smelly from all the miles they've traveled to help others.
And the pieces of a broken heart cradled in the hands of God, and put together in his time.
The beauty in the broken.