Fresh pots of paint, clean fingers, visions of artistic grandeur...and so the process begins. Strokes added with care, colors mixed and swirled, picture taking form...the process continues. Finishing touches placed with care, pots closed, hands washed...completion.
Waking up this morning, that was the image on my mind...finger painting. I've been wrestling with remembering. The past seven years in Romania were incredible...on so many levels...growth, challenges, fears, relationships, learning, stretching... If I think about my time in Romania as a painting... The yellows might be new friends brought into my life: Rhonda, Carmen, Ky, Jen... The pinks are success stories with students: Brandon, Daniel, Grace... The greens could be areas of growth: faith building trials, leadership. Black are clouds of conflict and pain. Oranges are slices of hope: new apartment, small group, visits from friends...
As I remember all the pieces somehow the picture starts gets skewed. Instead of seeing the individual pieces of the painting, the intricate color choices, I walk away from my memories with a single color sense...darkness. Picture the colors of paint all stirred together as often happens when little children sit down to paint. Though yellows, greens, and blues have been chosen with care, when mixed together, it all looks brown. Brown isn't generally selected as a favorite color. It isn't often selected for pictures beyond tree trunks and houses. It isn't cheerful and bright on a dreery winter day.
I don't want it to be all brown. I don't want to look back and feel darkness. I want to remember the brightness and light, the hope and growth. It's taking some effort to sorth through the memories, a resolution to fight a battle in my mind. I want Christ's perspective instead of my own so that as he leads I'll willingly follow, completely trusting what comes next, excited about the color choices to come and the picture to be painted.
