Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Art (01/18/07)
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TITLE: Masterpieces are Messy | Previous Challenge Entry
By Eden Arneau
01/22/07 -
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I closed the door and listened to Joshua’s cries. As always, they lasted about two minutes before the tired eleven month old drifted off for his morning nap. A nap that would last two peaceful, blessed hours – on a good day.
“Mama!”
“Libby, shhh.”
“Mama.” At least the child knew how to whisper.
“What?” I got down to her level and whispered back.
“I want to go outside and jump.”
“Yeah? I want a million dollars.” It was our standard response when she forgot to say 'please.'
“Please I go outside and jump?” The four-year-old tried again.
My Swedish baby complete with blond pigtails and blue eyes as deep as the ocean blinked up at me. No pre-school on Tuesdays meant all day at home – just the three of us.
“Ok, how about this? You let mommy take a shower and then we’ll go outside for a little while.” I waited for one of two responses: the crying and pouting or the one we tried to train her to every day.
“Ok, mama.” Bingo!
“Why don’t you color me a picture while you’re waiting?”
“Sure!” She raced to her plastic desk in the kitchen and began assembling supplies.
“Great. Make it a nice big one and I’ll be done before you know it.”
I took a longer-than-usual shower. Before getting dressed I leaned out the door to listen for Libby. Silence. She was keeping herself busy so I took my time, dried my hair and then styled it.
Not wishing to push my luck, I hollered to her, “You doing good, honey?”
“I’m good, mama.”
Ok. I took the time to add a little makeup and perfume – to look and feel like a real girl even though I wouldn’t see my hubby until Friday. It was worth the effort. I looked good; I felt good and was now ready to take my little one out to jump on her trampoline…until I walked into the kitchen. I gasped when I saw it.
“Mama!” She was so happy to see me – to show me what she’d made. I was less enthusiastic.
We had one wall, one giant, white wall, separating the kitchen from the dining room.
“Look, I made a big picture.” One four-year-old plus markers plus big, white wall equals one big picture.
I swallowed the words of anger and sat on the floor. “Come here, babe.” She scrambled up on my lap and we both looked. “Tell me about it.”
“This,” she pointed to a red blob, “is a boat with people in it. And he fell out.” Hence the green blob under the water. Nice. “And then the whale ate him.” A big black blob played the part of the great fish. I had forgotten that the Bible story at pre-school yesterday was Jonah.
“What happened while he was in the whale?”
“Um,” her brow wrinkled with concentration, “he prayed to Jesus?”
“Yes. He told Jesus he was sorry for not obeying.”
She warmed to the topic, “And the whale spit him up on the land.”
“Yes. He prayed to Jesus and got saved.” I turned her to face me. “Now, my dear, are you allowed to draw on the walls?”
The weight of what she had done hit her and tears filled her eyes. She collapsed into my arms sobbing. Such a tender heart. I hugged her and waited for what was next.
She finally lifted her head and squeaked out, “I’m sorry, mommy, I colored on the walls.”
“I forgive you. We can clean it up.” Praise God for washable markers! “As soon as mommy takes a picture.”
The photo now hangs above my desk to remind me of the masterpiece the Master is creating in her, in me. It hasn’t been a straight road to here. I’ve muddled through divorced parents and depression, weight gain and willfulness, struggles and survivals. But as I sit at my desk and look at the day my daughter painted the kitchen I remember – masterpieces are messy to create but they are beautiful when they are finished.
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