Something Pretty

In my new quest to talk about all things pretty, I have started looking at people and things with a different lens. I am usually freakishly observant and often find myself wondering what people are thinking, if they are lonely, if they have children, are they educated, and on and on. Sometimes this is uplifting and other times it leaves me with a heavy heart. But now I am looking at all of these things and trying to determine whether they are pretty.

I have been thinking about what pretty means. Webster's say it is: pleasing by delicacy or grace. Unlike beautiful, which Webster's defines as: generally pleasing, pretty encompasses some seemingly un-pretty things. Grace does not revel in perfect situations. Grace shines when confined by the ugly. That is when grace becomes pretty.

Yesterday, I was driving and there was a man standing on the corner of the road. I could not read his sign from my vantage point, but he appeared to be homeless and asking for money. When I was younger, I gave readily to many homeless people who crossed my path. It made me feel better about my own life where I had plenty of whatever I wanted. But throughout the years, I have seen people lie, I have heard stories about kids in India whose parents take them out of school to beg, and I have become jaded. I no longer give money to people on the street. Not ever. I have decided, as a matter or principle, I want to help people who are trying to help themselves, not those who can do no more than stand on a street corner. I am jaded.

But I still wonder about the people I see. When was the last time they ate? Do they have a family? Are they mentally ill? Were they in a war? Sometimes, it is difficult not to give them a dollar or a sandwich. Other times, when they appear youthful and able bodied, I judge them for being lazy. I know I shouldn't judge people, but I do. So, as I am sitting in my car sizing up the homeless man on the corner, another man pulls up in a maroon mini-van. He clearly has a family that he totes around in the back seat. He has an army uniform on. He is a soldier. It is unlikely he has not been deployed at least once, and it is even more unlikely he has a lot of money to spare, while raising a family on a military salary.

As I am sizing up the homeless man on the corner, the soldier rolls down his window, smiles at the homeless man, says something to him, and gives him a dollar. He treats him with respect, offers him what he can (or more than what he can), and drives away. I wasn't about to do the same. This Corporal or Major, wasn't judging the homeless man. He saw someone in need and lent a hand. Ignoring the debate on whether it is productive to give money to people who stand on street corners, I think the grace demonstrated by this soldier is pretty. I talk a lot about pretty boots and pretty earrings. But there are so many things in the world that are pretty. Today, I think this soldier, whose name I will never know, is pretty.