I don’t know why it surprises me sometimes… There are months I stare at a blank spiritual canvas, wondering where the colors are, and if they still exist to be found…and then I find them where they always were, before I hid them.
Sometimes I put the brushes away so the colors can’t be painted. Because I like the comfort of knowing that I won’t mess up…so I don’t start.
Sometimes I start coloring and get scared that the bright colors are too little-kiddish…too child-like, too happy to be taken seriously… And there are days I want everyone to see the finger-painted, beautiful mess.
Sometimes I hide the buckets, the easel and every trace of that world, because I’m too busy with crafts that are colorless and yet promised the brightest display.
Other days, I paint a beautiful masterpiece…but the colors run together from the lack of primer, and I throw away what was so entirely done by me.
And sometimes I can faintly see someone else paint, and I love Him.
And I’m surprised that I can still see the colors. I love those colors.


Currently reading :
Reaching for the Invisible God
By Philip Yancey