There’s abounding joy so deeply embedded into my heart. But I have a sadness that drips from my eyes. Even when my eyes are filled with smiles. It’s a longing. I’m joyful for things I know and understand, and I’m deeply sad by things I know, and do not know at the same time.
It’s a longing in my heart.
For things to be good and right.
To feel a hand holding my own.
To be caught up in a moment that will follow the joys of my heart for the rest of my days.
Music gives me that longing. Music.
What is it with art? There is something deeply spiritual going on that goes much further than an artists fingertips to her work. Maybe it’s the same between God and I. Perhaps there is a place I long to be that I have yet to find between God, the artist, and I, the work of art. Perhaps.
There’s something I don’t understand going on. I’m still part canvass. He’s not finished me. Will He? I still feel so much of me is blank canvass, and so little of me has been created. I know without doubt that God has a few quirky ideas up His sleeve about what He’s going to make me into. I feel as though He’s just standing there now, though. Maybe He’s not. Maybe He’s working on the most intricate parts of me right now, His hands so steady that it feels like endless stillness.
