Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Life Lessons

Last week, in art class, for the first time, we were attempting to paint roses.  Our beginning classes a year ago had been of beach scenes, waves, swamp scenes with birds, etc., all things that could be painted in broad strokes, all things that could be seen as they developed on canvas.  We had also done still life: one magnolia sitting on a table, or a book with a bottle and grapes: again, all things that could be seen as we painted them. 

The roses were different.  They could be painted only one petal at a time -- and as we painted, no "rose" appeared before our eyes.  Even the one petal we were working on did not appear to be a petal; my first attempt looked like a miniature bowling pin more than anything else.  "There's no way this is going to be a rose," I said to myself as I completed the first petal.  With the second petal, nothing got better.  If anything, it was worse.  Now I had a miniature bowling pin plus something that I could not even identify.  By the fourth petal, I was ready to throw in the paintbrush.  "What can this be?" I asked the instructor.  "It will never be a rose; what else can I make of it?"  Patiently, he sat down and painted the next petal for me.  As I watched him working, I realized that he was focusing only on that one petal, trying to get the light and shadow just right.  He was not thinking about the ones that I had already painted, nor was he thinking about the ones to come.  He had a single focus in mind: get this one right.

As I watched him, I realized what I was doing wrong.  I was focusing on the rose, the one that wasn't there yet, the one I wanted to see, but could not.  I had been accustomed up to now to slapping the paint on the canvas and seeing before my eyes the beach, or the book, or even the magnolia come to life.  The rose was different; it would not "appear" until each petal had been painted as well as it could be.  I had to re-train my brain, and my expectations.  I had to stifle my impulse to want to see results right away.  I had to trust that if I painted one petal at a time, the rose would appear at the end.  And so it did.  Once I had finished each petal, I stepped back from the canvas --- and saw a rose!  I'm not sure how it got there, as I did not paint a rose; I painted only one petal at a time.  But there it was!

The next rose was easier, not because I could see the outcome, nor because I had learned to paint petals -- I was still trying to acquire that skill -- but only because I believed.  Based on my experience with the first rose, I believed that if I worked diligently, without seeing, on one petal at a time, there would be a rose at the end.

I finally began to understand Jesus' words to those He healed: "Your faith has saved you!"  I had been ready to give up entirely and paint over the whole canvas as I worked on the first rose -- because I could not "see" a rose as I worked, and I could not believe that what I saw in front of me would ever be a rose.  And what I would have missed was the magical experience of finishing my work and seeing that I had indeed painted a rose!  Who would have dreamed it possible? 

With the second rose, I kept going, despite not "seeing" anything more than I had seen the first time.  I just believed that if I did the work without seeing, the rose would be there at the end.  Amazing!  I felt much more confident, even though I still saw nothing as I worked.  The people who pressed through the crowds or who shouted out to Jesus from the sidelines were desperate enough to believe that if they could just get to him, they would be healed.  They need to just keep on trying to get to him, despite the overwhelming odds that faced them.  They needed to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, or keep raising their voice so that He would hear them, despite the noise of the crowd or the embarrassment of their friends. 

"If I can just touch the hem of his garment," the woman with the hemorrhage said to herself....."if I can do just this one thing....."    She knew her rose would appear at the end of the process. 

Today's reading hold two scriptures relevant to my "life lesson" in painting the rose:

...a person will reap only what he sows, because the one who sows for his flesh will reap corruption from the flesh, but the one who sows for the spirit will reap eternal life from the spirit.  Let us not grow tired of doing good, for in due time we shall reap our harvest, if we do not give up.
(Gal. 6:7-10)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and on your own intelligence do not rely;
In all your ways be mindful of him, and he will make straight your paths (Proverbs 3:5-6).

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We may not see the results of the seeds we sow today, but we will eventually see the harvest of what we sow today, for good or for evil.  Today, we may not be able to paint a rose, but we can paint one petal in faith that one day, we will see the results in a beautiful rose! 

(Later today, I will attempt to import a photo of my roses.)

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