WHAT IS ART?

Having limited skill to make a stick figure look even remotely human, I have never considered myself to be artistic, but have always wished for the capability.   I am surrounded by family members who create spectacular paintings, sketches and works of art and have always remained envious for just a sliver of their astounding talent.

Being an extremely visual person, my eyes are forever luring me to all the world's beauty that encompasses me and feel frustrated in a sense, that I could see it, but not share it as other's are able to do so with their creative, God-given genes.  Instead of wishing for talent, I should have worked hard for it while in school, but I erroneously felt that talent was necessary for success in art and moved onto other subjects.  And yet, throughout the years, I still desired to be artistic in some way. 

I have gratefully come to realize through personal experiences, that despite our limitations, these inward yearnings are actually implanted within us by God when he created us.  He is the one who puts the desires in our hearts and is not limited by our lack of talents and abilities but instead, helps us fulfill our aspirations in ways we never thought possible.  But like everything He does, it's all in His perfect timing and for his useful purpose of our lives.

Having never refinished furniture, planted a garden, clicked an amazing snapshot nor pen a blog story until recent years, it amazes me that I am now able to express myself through my newly acquired artistic bent-- without lifting so much as a brush or pencil.  Had I educated myself through classes, I would have learned that art is so much more than palettes and paints and that creativity, in all different forms, is artistic workmanship.  Instead, I received a crash course that was simply sifted to me through God's fingers.  He easily could have given me the ability to paint like a master, but rather made me a humble novice of many new things while using all the broken pieces of my heart to create a beautiful new mosaic of myself.   He wasted nothing and brought beauty out of everything.

To clasp tightly to my parents’ memories, I learned how refinish our family table.  Filling the void of an empty nest, I stuffed my gardens full of flowers and my tables with bouquets.  Through a grieving heart, my finger purged every last ounce of emotion as I pecked the computer keys, story after family story, on my blog.  And at 60 with my new camera in hand, I looked through the lens and said to myself— now THAT is art!