On Finding Quiet Strength

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We look small

standing next to the tall columns

at the St. Louis Art Museum.

 

She snaps a picture

with the angled rays of sun

shining on me and my brother’s son.

 

Inside,

I momentarily linger in front of

the layered strokes

of oil paint,

a cadence of colors

on canvas

draws my heart into a gentleness;

a quiet strength

 

the museum is spacious,

with a distinct place for each piece of art

framed and contained within

margins of white wall

displayed in connecting halls.

Everything clearly labeled.

Inside the rectangle frames

emotions smear together

in lines and color.

 

I like the paintings of clouds

or lily pads

or especially

the room of Degas ballerinas

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My sister-in-law is ahead of me.

Her stroller glides across the cold floor

with her daughter Coco Mae inside it.

Her toddler is romping around them.

His red curls collecting smiles from people passing.

 

Oliver is strapped into an Ergo carrier.

With my own hands free, he rest close to my heart.

The feeling it all brings is art too.


“Sin has unraveled the world, but art is one of the ways we reweave.”
 Sally Lloyd Jones, author of the Jesus Story Book Bible

Sometimes God uses art to take our unraveled hope or the fabric of our heart worn thin and reweave it together again.


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