I haven’t posted in a while. The days and weeks seem to run
away from me almost. I’ll catch you up on what's good…little by little. I have
notes scribbled down and verses to look up that really impacted me over the
last few weeks.
I am celebrating because this is my last week taking 12
units. After Sunday, I will only be in two classes, with both of their midterms
behind me. I love school but I'm beginning to like the idea of a week night
without homework.
I’ve spent the last couple weekends adventuring, making plans
and trying to keep them. Putting my brave girl pants on, pushing my limits,
evaluating boundaries and other areas I have found to be lacking in me. I have
realized a new level of control freak within me while simultaneously
discovering the fun that awaits me on the groupon website.
I decided to go to one of those painting and vino classes. I
had a Sunday morning brunch, something that I don’t know if I have ever done.
Then my friend and I headed to Little Italy to paint some mountain scapes.
We were certainly the youngest and perhaps the only sober
ones. The row of cougars behind us was pretty rambunctious and basically drunk,
but I pushed past that at the idea of creating something beautiful, with
instruction.. of course. I am really hit or miss, mostly miss, when it comes to
the fine art of painting.
3 hours go by of paint mixing and brush strokes when the
instructor says, “Now for the final touch outline the sun we painted
earlier….be sure to use brush number one as it makes you the most in control.”
I spent the last two hours struggling to keep this guy’s
pace because I was basically using brush 1, the tiniest brush, the entire time,
I like control. Why wouldn’t I want to control my painting, be precise and
exact and right where I want it- all things I like. I had to stop and laugh
because his painting was obviously far superior to mine and he enacted little
control over his mediums this whole time.
Ultimately, I left with horrendous shoulder pain trying to keep up while using tiny brush number one. Sitting in
front of an easel raising my arm to paint almost brought me to tears my
shoulder hurt so bad. I will probably have to go in…eventually.
I also left loving my painting and thinking of verses about
my Lord’s comfort and stability and how He’s my Refuge and Mighty Fortress when
all else fails, when I fail, when I don’t seem to belong anywhere, I belong in
the Shadow of His wings, held in His Everlasting arms.
I think I’d like to go paint again, but I have no desire to
hang the art anywhere or give it to someone and expect them to love it and I
cant quite bring myself to throw it away either, so I may never go back. But it
was fun.
Definitely, my favorite thing about the whole experience was after staring so closely
at all my painting's imperfections- the places where my white and yellow didn’t
quite blend, where I should have added more texture, or shaped the peak
differently or not strayed from instruction and added my own birds, or mixed a darker grey… I stepped
back and took a picture on my phone. When I got a whole view of it looking at
my screen I actually, genuinely felt impressed with myself. Well, mostly relieved that it
wasn’t as dreadful as I had felt that it was destined to be.
This need to take a step back and find the beauty is
something I learned to an even greater degree the very next day.. But I’ll save
that for another post, hopefully tomorrow!
Today these lyrics echoed through my head and I was
grateful:
"Come out of sadnessFrom wherever you've beenCome broken heartedLet rescue beginCome find your mercyOh sinner come kneelEarth has no sorrowthat Heaven can't heal"
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