Sometimes life gets messy.

Choices - ours and others

bleed into one another,

colors muddied beyond recognition,

until we can no longer see

what we meant to create.

And so we hide the canvas,

afraid others will judge

the way we handled the paint.

And at other times

we get it right,

the medium flows

effortlessly,

our life art is beautiful and vibrant,

a masterpiece that we gladly share with the world.

But have you noticed?

when you look back

a month,

a year,

or a decade later

your masterpieces seem less significant?

And with distance,

when all of life's canvases

are fully exposed,

the imperfect works

created from tattered brushes scrubbing at

struggle, pain, confusion, and growth

reveal these were not the lesser works,

but the truest art of life—

the canvases only the Master

could see complete.

~sf