The Artist

     Okay, someone please tell me that they have days like this... hard, hard, long days.  You know, the ones where you wake up and within moments you realize this is not going to be a day to write home about.  In fact this might even be a day to write down to remind yourself that things could get worse.  That, my friends, was my day yesterday.  To say that I handled it with grace and patience would be a gross overstatement of the truth.  I can say this, my children survived, I survived, the house survived (barely), and it is a new day.  This has been a really long hard season of cold weather, financial hardship, and sickness in the Tidwell household. So each day that passes and the sun rises I feel a little bit more ragged, but also a little bit more hopeful.  I remember the Bible says that each morning His mercies are new.  I get to restart, I get to recenter my heart and mind and focus on the things that are eternal, the things that matter. 
     I am learning, but I am a really slow learner sometimes.  This morning, however, the Lord reminded me that I am imperfect, I am flawed, I am human... but that He loves me and He isn't done with me yet.  These are the days that are shaping me, making me the woman and creature He sees.  I have heard many times about the statue of David that Michelangelo created.  You know, the famous one.  (Don't worry if you didn't know it was created by Michelangelo, I had to look it up... I'm not just smart like that!) But I do remember the story of someone asking Michelangelo how he creates such beautiful art out of a hunk of rock.  He said something like this... I look at the unshaped stone and chisel away all of the pieces that don't belong.  I look at the stone and see the finished product and just cut away the pieces until it is revealed.  
     Powerful... the Lord brought this to my mind as I was feeling really useless and like an utter failure this morning.  I haven't been patient with my children, my house is in constant disarray and I shouldn't care because all the "good moms" don't care about their house being messy due to their children.  (Side note: I just wonder if these "good moms" have the same tiny tornadoes living under their roofs?)  I have been irritable with my husband.... and the list could go on.  You know, the voice you hear when The Accuser really gets in your ear.  But as I sat in tears this morning, just praying for peace and patience with my family, and trying to figure out why I felt so out of sorts, God reminded me that He is my Creator, my Artist, the Michelangelo of my unshaped soul.  And He sees the finished product, He sees what is underneath all of the rough edges and jagged parts.  And that He is still working on me.  Just as I pray to have grace for others I need to pray for grace for myself.  He is using these times, these seasons of exhaustion and survival, to reveal the creation underneath, like a chisel, chipping away the jagged edges.  (This process is unending and uncomfortable, but totally worth it!) And one day, at the end of this string of time we call life, I will be the perfect creature He sees, but until then I strive to love others, give grace and patience and mercy to them and also to myself... and trust The Artist to do the rest.