I’ve been ruminating on this idea for a couple of days and decided to put it to paper tonight.
Piece by Piece
Piece by piece, I had fallen apart
one bad choice after another,
flinging paint all over my canvas
with no regards for my mother.
Until one Sunday, I reformed my life –
laying it at the cross and
recommitting my heart –
renewing my relationship with Christ.
He took my marred canvas
with paint splatters and wild strokes,
and set it upon the easel again
giving rise to all manner of hope.
I was pleasantly surprised
at the amount of trash painted upon the canvas,
in colors so dreadful and dreary
I cringed at the amount of sadness.
But just then, He took my hand
and swept a stroke very wide
effacing a large portion of my life
I could only hope to hide.
My magnum opus took shape
in a very dense timeframe,
causing me to doubt His help
which only caused more shame.
Then gently He began to guide my brush,
again righting my course,
infusing hope throughout my being
settling me to the core.
“You are beautiful, beyond compare,”
He would whisper in my ear,
causing me both pain and comfort
fearing someone would my life’s-work smear.
Encouraging me over and over
I began to believe His comfort,
deflecting assaults from left and right –
I began to live triumphant.
Now only He knows my end-of-life’s painting
with all of the blobs and wrong colors,
but at least I know the one guiding me
as we paint this work – piece by piece, together.