I work in an art museum.

Not really. But it looks like it and when you walk into the lobby for the first time, you sense the same atmosphere of an art museum. Quiet. Almost reverent.

I’m privileged to sit at the front desk of my company, in the midst of great art and collections, every weekday afternoon. And I take it for granted most days. Then someone walks in the front door – someone who has never been here before – and they gaze in awe, with jaws dropped, at the amazing displays of beauty and history in every corner and on every wall. Usually their first words to me are, “This place is so beautiful. You are so lucky.”

Yes, I am.

I took a walk through the building this morning and purposefully took pictures of some of the art we have on interior, hidden hallways. Photographs taken by family members. Original art from one of the company vice-presidents. Paintings. Prints. Mosaics. Pottery. Sculptures. Collage. Textiles. Native head dresses from South America. Wood, clay, and iron pieces. Even death masks (but those are my least favorite).

Most of us walk through these hallways every day, with our heads down, our minds on tasks at hand, and we miss the beauty, the originality, the creativity all around us. That’s why I took that walk this morning. To add art to my every day. And I’m going to do it every day through Lent. I’m going to search out pieces I’ve never noticed before and intentionally pay attention to the artistry and effort and creative minds and hands of each piece.

Your takeaway? You may not work in an “art museum” like I do. But take a walk today, or look up from whatever you’re doing long enough, to really see the beauty around you. It may the architecture of the building across the street, the finger painting on your refrigerator, or the smile of your spouse. It’s there – if you take the time to look for it.