The Masterpiece

His masterpiece hangs on the fridge.  Sam broke out the acrylics yesterday and filled in the sketch I offered.  The outline of a tree became brown and green and full of apples.  The nest all the sudden housed a mother bird and tiny eggs.  The ground sprouted tufts of lush grass.

He told me this morning that he wished there were people on the ground looking up at the birds.  I told him we could add those today.

He paused and said, "But, the paint is already dry."

I told him the painter can always go back and add more.  When people paint, they do a little work each day, allowing their portion to dry.  As each day passes, they can add new details and new characters. 

A masterpiece is never finished in one day.

But, my spirit wrestles against this.  I want the results now.  I want the finished product now. 

The Painter knows a better way.  He simply applies a few brushstrokes of grace each day, allowing each to dry and become a true part of our canvas.

What a mess we would be if He threw up some paint and then left us on our own.  Instead, He revisits us each day, looking at our individualized grace-canvas, adding the fine details of laughter and mercy and beauty and hope and joy.

He keeps at it until we all look like His Son in the end.  Each of us unique, each of us mirroring His beloved One.

We are His poiema, His workmanship. His masterpiece.

He just isn't done yet, that's all.