I had asked Him to help me, to guide my hand, to create something
she would think beautiful.
But at seemingly every stroke, I was just never fully
the last word graced the wooden canvas,
until my initials were tucked into the corner.
With the last gentle nudge of the paint brush,
I sat back.
It is complete.
It is finished.
What if I had thought it complete so many strokes ago?
What if I had been satisfied from the beginning, in the middle, or any time before the end?
What would be missing?
The restless tweaking, refining, urging, kept me hunting
for a state of perfection,
for the fullness of completion.
And it gives me hope for the day-to-day living,
when I look in the mirror and see this imperfect creation,
with lots of flaws,
But if I was satisfied with me now,
I wouldn't be willing to continue working,
will continue it through to completion.
Linking with Emily for Imperfect Prose
Jennifer for Sneak Peek Fridays at Studio JRU
And Laura at Beholding Glory