We tend to make nothing turn into a big deal.
An argument paints the picture of denial and fear. I know it. I was once the painter.
Every work of art starts out differently, ends differently. We are all given different paints and pastels. We all pick up the brush and the stencil at different times. We all picture it differently. Some may never look at the easel happily. Some will be bored. Some will walk away, and never want a second chance. But we all paint. And each canvas remarks something extravagant.
My painting was once bright and beautiful. Somehow, as years went by, I darkened the tone and blended the blacks into the white. I grew fearful at what I painted. It depicted a monster of fear. But my Teacher blew upon the work once I asked. He then ripped the canvas, gave me a new one. He told me it was okay to start again. He took my hand. It was then that he began to help me work it into something new and grand. He mixed a new kind of love into my paints. It's not what I once had in mind. I may never be able to paint the picture I had originally started with.... I just know that if I continue to ask the Teacher for help, it'll be brilliant. With Him, everything is always perfection. And for me, the change is worthwhile. It's sort of new and exciting. I don't need to rely on past ideas of beauty.
My life is now dependent on this love I have never felt before. I am a new kind of painter. I enjoy working with different brushes and textures. I take my time.
I thank my Teacher so much for His help. He's always there to support me.
I never want to paint a monster again. I never will. I enjoy love all to much, for that.
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