I am in the middle of finishing several painting projects, and have been using watercolor paints again. I have not used them in a while, because I need to allot enough time to let the paint dry before I apply the other layers.
Time, sadly for me, has become a luxury quite difficult to afford. I do my best to manage my schedule ~ to have time for family and friends, the apostolates closest to my heart, and yes, even for my hobbies. (Writing personal thoughts has lately taken a back seat, but then again, I try to squeeze it in!)
So today, while contemplating a particular painting I am working on ~ my own rendition of "Beloved Dominican Saints" which was originally painted by Bernadette Carstensen, I thought of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, who was a painter, too. (She is one of my favorite saints, and remains one of my most powerful intercessors in heaven who have always been a constant companion in in my faith journey.)
I am merely God's paint-brush.
In her autobiography "Story of a Soul", Saint Thérèse likened herself to a brush which Jesus uses in making His masterpieces:
If a piece of canvas painted upon by an artist could think and speak, it certainly would not complain at being constantly touched and retouched by the brush, and would not envy the lot of that instrument, for it would realize it was not to the brush but to the artist using it that it owed the beauty with which it was clothed. The brush would not be able to boast of the masterpiece produced with it, as it knows that artists are not at a loss; they play with difficulties, and are pleased to choose at times weak and defective instruments.
I am a little brush which Jesus has chosen in order to paint His own image in the souls entrusted to my care. An artist does not use only one brush, but needs at least two: the first is the more useful and with it he applies the general tins and covers the canvas entirely in a very short time; the other, the smaller one, he uses for details.
Break my heart, Lord.
I remember being told very early to be careful with not only what I wish for, but especially with what I pray for, because I really just might get what I am asking from the Lord!
As I work on several paintings, I remember a prayer, a song that keeps playing on repeat in my head. It has become sort of like a personal anthem during the times I was discerning what to do next in my life. That was about six years ago, and there is a line from that song that made me tear up every single time I listened to it, or attempted to sing it. It still moves me to tears even now:
Heal my heart and make it clean; Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like You have loved me. Break my heart for what breaks Yours, Everything I am for Your Kingdom's cause, as I walk from earth into eternity...
For years this has been like a life-song albeit only for a certain stage in my life. But it stuck with me, and looking back, it has dawned on me that this particular prayer of mine has been answered.
My heart is terribly aching for the many things that I am sure would break God's heart ~ and most of the time I feel too weak and vulnerable to be keeping a shattered heart inside my chest. Then again, it gives me so much consolation that my "direct line" with God in prayer is always open and available!
Painting and praising even in my brokenness.
Ah, the tempests that rage in my life, and the billows that toss me around!! I would not have survived and still remain here if it were not for God's grace. I thank God for days like today that I get to reflect and deal with my heartaches. Admittedly, some parts of my paintings literally include tears!
God made the world beautiful, but we have marred it with our selfishness and greed. Somehow, when I paint, I am able to look at Beauty that I otherwise would usually not notice, what with the daily preoccupations of my every day existence. With brush in hand, I am able to contemplate how masterfully and thoughtfully God created each of us; that every detail in Creation was, and is done in Love.
It's two days before Christmas, and there's a sense of longing, and emptiness that need to be filled. Out in the streets, I see chaos in the snail's pace traffic. The Christmas lights have become too blindingly bright that people seem to be unable to focus on the real Light. The Christmas carols that I so love to sing as a child are reduced to noise, compared to that one sweet sound I so long to hear ~ His voice.
Christmas is a joyful season; I cannot help but also think about why He was born in the first place. The sadness echoes because I know He came that He may die for me. His birth brings hope and promise, and the certainty that there is salvation for us all.
If the myriad pieces of my broken heart were not enclosed, they would probably have already scattered all over. There is joy in celebrating the season, but this early, I cannot help but ponder about Bethlehem and Calvary at the same time. I am exhausted and broken, and yet, in my brokenness, He comes to me as a child, and He makes my heart whole again.
I am glad I can resort to my paints and paint brushes. All is God's grace that I am able to turn the mind to the good. The pigments and the canvasses are a big help in keeping my focus on Him who is the reason for the season. Oh the hope that is experienced through the heart by the power of His unconditional love and grace!
What a truly amazing gift we all receive at Christmas ~ Jesus Himself!
