I was recently staring at a painting created by my three year old. I looked intently at the colors behind the blackish brown and wondered what it was supposed to have looked like. What was the original beauty behind the dark cloud ? And why did my little three year old artist decide to cover the beautiful with all that black? Messy, sloppy darkness covered most of the canvas in ways that I would never have myself chosen to paint. I would have left the beautiful happy looking scene of golds, greens, reds and oranges alone, but my little guy just seemed to have his own definition of what a masterpiece should look like. Little kids tend to stir all the colors in the palette together until it mixes into some brownish color of what my eyes would call gross, but to him it was a brand new amazing color discovery. So my eyes look at his work of art and try to avoid the darkness and strain to try to envision what the picture used to look like before the layer of darkness swept over the canvas.
It seems to be like this in grief and loss. The former beautiful gets engulfed in darkness. The darkness is weighty and heavy and polluting of the beauty that once was. Sometimes it is so all consuming that it becomes hard to remember exactly what the painting even looked like before the darkness of tragedy rolled in. You realize you can’t ever go back to the way your life was originally painted. The colors seemed to blend so nicely then. The emotion was upbeat. The art conveyed hope. But now, there is no way to erase the globs of black goo that have overtaken what once was a beautiful scene that you cherished.
This kind of drastic change is one I have yet to stop questioning God about. I ask him why he allowed such a darkness to be added to a life that was once so beautiful. I wonder why in his sovereign control that such a darkness was his design. Doesn’t he understand that the way things were was so much better? Can’t he see the pain of this sorrow that feels permanently tattooed on my heart? And How on earth will I ever take this awful looking mix of beauty covered by messy darkness and turn it back into something of beauty and worth once again?
In these moments of questioning, God reminds me that redeeming messy darkness and working even the worst of circumstances together for our good and His glory is actually His specialty. He stands outside of time and knows absolutely everything the past, present and future holds, yet cares enough to know even the tiniest concerns of my heart and yours too. Though the canvas of my life has been painted in such a way that makes little sense to me at the present time, I must remember that my little canvas is just one of the countless many that he is piecing together to make something truly amazing. One day when I have arrived in heaven and my faith becomes sight, the greater picture of how the painting of my life was designed to fit will be something I can thank God for. Until then, the goal is creating a new life of beauty one day at a time, one brush stroke at a time.
In Hope & Prayers,
From This Widow Mama
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Very well said Dorothy. I too understand the notion of a dark shade covering the canvas of our once beautiful, easier and less lonely life.
Following that metaphor, art conservators can sometimes remove the unwanted layer to reveal the beautiful original work.
This also brings to mind the idea of looking at the back of a cross stitch or quilt, seeing the chaos of tangled threads, then turning it over to reveal the beautiful handiwork in all its glory.
Yes we trust that God will make sense of our suffering and build something even more lovely and meaningful.
Peace. Michèle