An Artist at Work

“Momma can we please paint?”

Arabel came running in with the new paints we had been graciously given. Nice paints. Like, not your average elementary water colors. I tried not to let my eye-roll be too noticeable. I was deep into preschool preparation, and the thought of busting out (and potentially ruining) new paints made me cringe a little.

“Sweetie, those paints need a thicker type of paper than what we have.  I’ll see if we can get some painting paper next time we go to the store.”

“Oh! I saw some thick paper, Momma!” Bel bolted off and returned with three thick circular discs. Suitable for painting.

“Ok. Go get on the floor, don’t make a mess, and make sure sissy can paint with you.”

The look of joy on her face made me smile.

And then…

 

Processed with VSCO with m5 preset

Painting party 🙂

“ugh!! I can’t do it!”

“That’s ok Bel, just do it this way. See? It’s easy?” Ali chimed as she effortlessly creates her masterpiece.😉

“No! It’s all wrong!”

And then came the tears. The cries of frustration. The stomping off and coming back only to throw her hands up in defeat.

I listened and watched from my chair in the other room. Ali proudly finished her painting and brought it to me. She wondered why Bel just gave up and quit; that made me realize what a teachable moment this really was.

I sat down on the floor next to Bel and asked her what was wrong.

“There’s too much white! I don’t want to be an artist! It’s not working!”

With some patience, I helped her fix the “white spots” that weren’t absorbing the paint.  I showed her how to use less water on her brush to make the paint look more vibrant. She watched my careful efforts to repair the painting she thought was ruined.

“What color would you like here, Bel?” She would point and I would paint. And by the end of it, she was wanting to finish up most of it by herself (as long as I stayed there to watch her).

All of this got me thinking about the parallels between my humbling imperfect parenting, and that of my Heavenly Father.  How often do I beg Him for something, only to cry and throw a fit when He grants me my request? How often do I think I have everything I need, but throw my hands up in defeat when it doesn’t go my way?

One of my favorite parts of Parenthood is seeing my children the way my Father sees me. I do hope they know what a blessing that is, and how it renews my patience and love every time I take a step back and see them through His eyes.

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