I love painting. I liked it as a child, but I love it as an adult. Kids are overwhelmed with opportunities of fun, and repeating the same task doesn’t fare well against trying something new. I think that’s how my love for the brush and paint got overlooked.
Painting with my daughter last night provided an accidental lesson. Easels in tow, I set us up for hours of creating. We were equally excited to get our hands into the array of colors (ok, maybe I was just a tad more excited!).
My least favorite part about painting is the background. I can’t wait to get it over with so I can get to the fun stuff, the details. As I spread a mixture of blue and white paint throughout, bristles made their way on the canvas. I’m talking dozens of bristles. I have tons of quality paintbrushes, and this still happens some, but this was ridiculous. My image of a colorful owl sitting on a tree branch beneath the Aqua sky, crushed amidst the hairs. I picked several off with my fingers (this works miserably, by the way). I tried a twirl of the brush, scooping them up, one by one. Then I noticed what my continuous strokes did to the background. Specks of white seeped through and the blue boasted just the right amount of texture. It looked better than I’d originally pictured it.
Sometimes beauty comes from our mistakes. This is true in life, too. Just because we mess something up completely, doesn’t mean that God can’t turn it into something better than we’d originally pictured. But have patience, not everything dries as quickly as acrylic.