I find it fascinating when people correct my grammar – especially in response to what I say verbally. I remember someone asking me how I was doing, and I replied, “I am doing good.”

He corrected me: “Don’t you mean to say, ‘I am doing well’?”

SIGH.

Yes, I know he was right. I have spent years studying grammar for my university classes. Even for fun, I still like to have my nose in a grammar book. (I find language and its changing rules so darn interesting.) And while I acknowledge the standards and realize there are a time and place for them, I may choose to just parrot what others commonly say and join in with the “rule breakers” because I realize that “correct” language usage is not the most important part of my life. Especially in my everyday texts, emails, and conversations, I’ve tried to never take my grammar too seriously. There’s a colloquial element that I find charming.

So, what is my point? Tis this: when people think it’s important to call us out for something minor, what should our healthy response be? (And one that doesn’t involve dumping a glass of tea over their head?)

Honestly, I’m still mulling it over, but I wanted to share what has helped me.

Let’s say a person has just adamantly told me I’m wrong and that Brad Pitt is NOT the main character of the movie I’m describing.  I like to first hold a quick conversation in my heart and mind: is it truly important that I counter-correct? Or at least make that person understand where I am coming from?

Not always. Sometimes I just keep my mouth shut and let their correction go unchallenged. Because we obviously don’t agree when it comes to the topic, and when a disagreement is not life threatening, I may avoid engaging them in return. I can (pardon my cliché) agree to disagree and not have a lengthy discussion about it.

But what if a disagreement is relationship threatening? I find it helpful to ask myself if someone’s correction, right or wrong, is something I want to continually deal with. And most importantly, I try to discern what is at the heart of it. If the person is not abusive, but genuinely loving and caring, their corrections, even if incorrect, typically don’t bother me. Because I know that they mean no injury. It’s when I suspect even just an ounce of harm, my guard goes up, and my (metaphorical) foot goes down. And that means the friendship may be worth stepping away from, or at the very least, putting up some boundaries.
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I then proceed in the relationship with caution.

Again, for me, I’m not just focused on the person’s judgment being right or wrong. It’s the intention that appears along with it. Because I know I’ve wrongly corrected others. It’s one of the joys of being human. But another one of the joys of being human? Being able to wisely question (even just mentally) others’ actions, and then letting a healthy, careful answer be the foundation of our response.

​Whether we are right or wrong, we always have that power. 

I’ve often heard that nature can be healing, but I think this truth has never been so important to me until now, when many of us are forced to stay local and slow waaaayyyy down. I have more time to check out the clouds, to contemplate those leaves hanging just outside my window, and to notice the hedgehogs that crunch around my neighborhood. I’m thankful I live in a very lush country.

Counselor and author John Eldridge shares how apathetic we can often be about our surrounding splendor: “Too often we just notice and go on, like a pedestrian who steps over a hundred-dollar bill lying on the sidewalk. Stop and pick it up! In these moments you open yourself and receive beauty, the gift, the grace – receive it into your being.” Some days can be downright depressing at times, but I’ve taken Eldridge’s advice and found myself metaphorically picking up the hundred-dollar bills around me.

Here in England during stricter lockdowns, we are allowed out of doors for one physical exercise per day. My husband and I like to take daily walks. I make a point to admire the berries, flowers, odd-shaped leaves, and loud birds. If my neighborhood is an art gallery, they’d be the artwork.

Maybe walks aren’t your thing. Instead, it’s your cat’s paws in the air, bubbles that pop from your dish soap, or the smell of something yummy that is baking in the oven. For me, the key is to intentionally search for beauty beyond my current situation and pain; because even if I am hurting, I admire it when I find it. Thankfulness wells up inside me because beauty still exists, despite the aching in the world; and this is encouraging. I get a burst of energy that keeps me going.

Even when we don’t spend a lot of time outside, natural beauty can lovingly creep in when we look for it. Notice the sky that peeks in your windows. Think of the dancing shadows in your house or the cheerful beams of light that streak through your hallway. Appreciate the way your dog has fuzzy eyebrows or a wrinkly forehead.
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Again and again I see that there is something soothing about recognizing beauty around me. Even when my situation is grim, I'm rejuvenated that there is still attractiveness in a world that can be very ugly. What about you? Are you open to beauty in your life, even in the midst of grief and anxiety? Or have you stopped looking?

​Please, don’t ever stop looking for it.