美麗人生

There were a sensitivity and a beauty to her that have nothing to do with looks. She was one to be listened to， whose words were so easy to take to heart.

It is said that the true nature of being is veiled. The labor of words， the expression of art， the seemingly ceaseless buzz that is human thought all have in common the need to get at what really is so. The hope to draw close to and possess the truth of being can be a feverish one. In some cases it can even be fatal， if pleasure is ones truth and its attainment more important than life itself. In other lives， though， the search for what is truthful gives life.

I used to find notes left in the collection basket， beautiful notes about my homilies and about the writers thoughts on the daily scriptural readings. The person who penned the notes would add reflections to my thoughts and would always include some quotes from poets and mystics he or she had read and remembered and loved. The notes fascinated me. Here was someone immersed in a search for truth and beauty. Words had been treasured， words that were beautiful. And I felt as if the words somehow delighted in being discovered， for they were obviously very generous to the as yet anonymous writer of the notes. And now this person was in turn learning the secret of sharing them. Beauty so shines when given away. The only truth that exists is， in that sense， free.

It was a long time before I met the author of the notes.

One Sunday morning， I was told that someone was waiting for me in the office. The young person who answered the door said that it was “the woman who said she left all the notes.” When I saw her I was shocked， since I immediately recognized her from church but had no idea that it was she who wrote the notes. She was sitting in a chair in the office with her hands folded in her lap. Her head was bowed and when she raised it to look at me， she could barely smile without pain. Her face was disfigured， and the skin so tight from surgical procedures that smiling or laughing was very difficult for her. She had suffered terribly from treatment to remove the growths that had so marred her face.

We chatted for a while that Sunday morning and agreed to meet for lunch later that week.

As it turned out we went to lunch several times， and she always wore a hat during the meal. I think that treatments of some sort had caused a lot of her hair to fall out. We shared things about our lives. I told her about my schooling and growing up. She told me that she had worked for years for an insurance company. She never mentioned family， and I did not ask.

We spoke of authors we both had read， and it was easy to tell that books are a great love of hers.

I have thought about her often over the years and how she struggled in a society that places an incredible premium on looks， class， wealth and all the other fineries of life. She suffered from a disfigurement that cannot be made to look attractive. I know that her condition hurt her deeply.

Would her life have been different had she been pretty？ Chances are it would have. And yet there were a sensitivity and a beauty to her that had nothing to do with looks. She was one to be listened to， whose words were so easy to take to heart. Her words came from a wounded but loving heart， very much like all hearts， but she had more of a need to be aware of it， to live with it and learn from it. She possessed a fine-tuned sense of beauty. Her only fear in life was the loss of a friend.

How long does it take most of us to reach that level of human growth， if we ever get there？ We get so consumed and diminished， worrying about all the things that need improving， we can easily forget to cherish those things that last. Friendship， so rare and so good， just needs our care—maybe even the simple gesture of writing a little note now and then， or the dropping of some beautiful words in a basket， in the hope that such beauty will be shared and taken to heart.

The truth of her life was a desire to see beyond the surface for a glimpse of what it is that matters. She found beauty and grace and they befriended her， and showed her what is real.

她有著一種與外表無關的靈氣和美麗。她的話語輕而易舉地征服了人心，她正是我們要聆聽的聲音。

很多人都說人生的真諦是個未知的概念。言詞的費力詮釋、藝術的著力表現還有人類那似乎永無休止的紛繁思考，三者都苦苦追尋人生的真諦。希望走近以至完全把握存在的真意可以令人十分狂熱。有時候，有些人以自己篤信的真理為志趣，追尋真理甚于保全生命，于是就有舍生取義之舉。然而，也有另外的一種人生，他們在尋求真諦的過程中灌溉生命。

過去，我常常在教堂的心意籃里面發現一些優美的小短文，有些是關于我的布道，有些是作者日常讀《圣經》的感想。寫這些短文的人不僅對我的一些觀點加以反思，同時還會引用一些他/她曾經讀過的，令他/她難忘又喜愛的詩人或者神秘主義者的話。我被這些短文迷住了。我看到了一個執著于追尋真與美的人。其珍而重之的字句，優美動人。我還感覺到好像那些字句也樂于讓我們發現，顯而易見它們是那么慷慨地為這些至今也不知道姓名的作者所借用，而現在輪到這位無名氏來學習與人分享這些美文的奧秘。分享令美愈加閃耀生輝，在這個意義上說，其實世上唯一的真理是分毫不費的。

過了很久我才見到這些短文的作者。

一個星期天早上，我被告知有人正在辦公室等我。幫我應門的年輕人說“是個女人，留言是她放的。”看見她的時候我大吃一驚，因為我馬上就認出她是我的教區信徒，只是我一直不知道那些短文是她寫的。……