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Most people, I think, readily affirm that beauty is in the eye of the beholder,†and I suppose that is right. In many instances, the beauty of a thing is subjective. To accept that as a blanket statement of absolute truth, however, I am reticent to do.
Some things are universally acknowledged as beautiful: A perfect sunset or sunrise, for instance; or a majestic mountain capped in pure, white snow; or a baby’s laughter or a puppy’s clumsy playfulness these and so many other things are examples of objective beauty. They are beautiful in and of themselves. They do not require debate or chin-scratching criticism to discern or define their beauty. They only require the nod of your head, because you know, instinctively, that they are beautiful.
I know a woman whose beauty is just so. There need be no debating it. Just observe the stately way she carries herself, the grace with which she meets every circumstance, the steadfast faith by which her life and her every decision is governed, and the ageless wonder of her physical beauty and nod.
Nod, because I know you know and there is no debate. She is beautiful.
If you still insist that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then I humbly suggest
Behold her.
For Mary Weir
By Her Devoted Son-in-law
