Splotches of Life

The canvas begins pure, a clean slate. The paint is ready. Pre-picked colors line the feet of the creator. I step in, unknowing. A babe. Watching those around me, who have control, doing the best they can with what they are given. Looking at their own canvases as reference. The colors begin to take shape on my canvas. I see it, but am not able to make sense of it. I am not able to grasp the what or the why.

As I grow, I am able to hold my own paint brush. It is awkward in my hands. I have no dexterity to guide the brush in the way my mind thinks. But nonetheless, I create. It starts as lines, short and squiggly. As understanding forms in my mind, my strokes become longer and yet, still shapeless. Differences and perspectives all find a place on this canvas. Insecurities and questions create a vivid backdrop of separate scenes that have not yet connected.

As I grow through life, I can feel a hand on mine. A guiding hand. This hand helps the lines take shape. This hand makes sense of the squigglies. With this guidance, the colors are concise. The colors, like the shapes, tell a story. I am not always aware that the hand is there. There are times when the guiding hand leaves my hand, gently removing. Once removed, my hands are no longer steady in what I paint. The colors are no longer concise. The canvas becomes wild. Uncertainty is in every stroke.

As growth continues, my canvas has enough paint to use as a reference, a reference for time and situations. And right when I begin to believe in my knowledge of anything from previous experience, the guiding hand comes to create a new thing; new colors, new shapes.

I step back to see the splotches of life, knowing and understanding, the guiding hand is not through yet. The canvas is not complete. And in this knowing, I can release the paint brush. The scenes that once felt like separate incidents become connected masterpieces. Where once there was pain from a tight grip of the paint brush, there is now ease in flow. Allowing the guiding hand to take control. There is peace that comes with this release.

I step back and am in awe. The picture comes together. No longer separate scenes splattered across the canvas. This picture, these colors, these shapes, they make sense. This canvas unfolded into purpose. This canvas unfolded into peace. This canvas tells the story of a life well lived, a story of surrender. This canvas is the past, present and future. This canvas is the splotches of life. The splotches that made me, me. And in every splotch is the presence of God. I am his canvas, in his image, under his grace.