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There’s paint spattered on the wall, a greenish blue ocean color.

A canvas a while ago, I was intent on the texture of sky and sea,  large brush strokes, attacking white canvas…until I got it right.  Kept at it until satisfied.

Until I could step back, look towards color and be content with what I’d made.

If it’s good, there’s peace and rest.  Not good,  its surface gets painted over, propped up to dry and I’m torn between trying again or letting it be.

I’m always certain of plans for a painting, intent and abandoned in the process.

I’m hard on myself, denying I’m meant to create. What is talent, who decides?photo 1-5_kindlephoto-739988

Just like that, I leave it for a time…let it go.

Then, an afternoon frees itself and I’m covering the table in sheets, laying out paint, filling mason jars with water and bringing out the piece I gave up on, maybe a  blank  canvas too.

And I paint.  I change black to blue, textured with thick layers like silk, reds, bright and full.

Poppy-like blooms, strong and long green stems barely able to support the fullness of blooms.

Later, it’s dry and I can hardly stop myself from staring. I turn it to its back and sign, “LT…Quiet Confidence…Isaiah 30:15”.

Called it “Joy”.

Joy
Joy

Yesterday. I woke with recall of the sweetest and smallest of unexpected good. Today, as well.

I looked over towards pine tree tops and saw sunlight peeking through.

I sat there, with that sweetness…yesterday and today.

Remembering how I’d pushed for perfect.

How I’d given up, defeated and despondent until like a child pitchin’ a fit, I’ve done all I can do and I traipse away to my corner to accept life as it has been given, my perceived pitifully unfair lot in life.

Until, like a sullen and sulking child, I begin to let go and let it be.

And God, like a parent who saw that special thing hoped for; but, held back knowingly, softly walks back in and says. “Here, child. This is what I had for you. It’s better than what you wanted.”

It’s the unexpected and gloriously beautiful, like rich red and peaceful  blue paint on a discarded old piece of wood.

Merciful grace to those tripped up by hastened and erratic desire.

Messy made pretty, made good.

Return to rest, my soul. The Lord has been good to you.

Psalm 116:7

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee, Tell His Story

 

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