a short story:
Man sits in front of an easel atop a flowing green hill. the colors w/ which he paints appear to have been drawn straight from the rainbow. straight from whence they were created. this hill and its surrounding meadows are smoothly stroked by the wind. the grasses swaying effortlessly. Man smiles as he witnesses and experiences this beautiful act of nature. His appreciation of such things is greater than anyone else. w/ a blur of movement Man picks up the paint brush and w/ what seems just a stroke illuminates the canvas w/ color and life . . . Birth
Girl bounds up the hill, running for Man. He intrigues her. there is something about him that is safe. that is love. that is beauty.
“Who is he??” “Who is he painting for??”
Girl’s clothes are tattered and brown. She has strawberry blond hair that is messy and hanging losely around her face as she runs to this myterious figure. to an untrained eye, she seems a person who has been through much. even at her young age. Man sees her truth. sees past her appearance into her heart and he has called her thence though she is unaware.
“Hello sir. why are you painting so.”
“My dearest girl, i paint to bring life. i paint to show beauty. i paint to call the weary. my name is Man.”
“What an odd name . . . Man. Who are you painting for??”
Man does not answer. his arms again become a blur and the paint seems to stream from the canisters to the easel. the brush only a medium to direct them. he paints the grasses. the hills. the meadows. he paints a girl.
(oh wow, he paints so well. i wonder who that girl is) she thinks to herself. she looks up and suddenly sees a girl in out in front of the easel. she wasnt there before.
shocked, “wha, where did she come from?? who is she??”
“she is who i paint for. she is my child” he replies.
this other girl is smiling ear to ear an dancing all amoungst the beautiful scenery. as if the had been made for just this purpose.
(she is so beautiful. that white dress. her rich hair flowing around her . look at me . . . id look like a fool if i tried to dance like that. i so wish i could.) she thinks to herself and looks down solemnly.
“Man, your daughter is so beautiful. i wish i were that way. i wish my father would paint for me . . .”
Man continued to paint. the easle and canvas no longer contained just a single peice of art. it was in fact alive. moving and breathing w/ each new stroke. developing into a new set of images. w/ his painting the girl changed also and Girl stood there in awe. she watched as the dancing continued yet it became less pure. she soon stopped dancing altogether. she became sad. and wounded. her clothes began to change. her hair became unkept and less vibrant. she sank to the ground and began to cry and then she disappeared all together.
“what just happened!?! what happened to your poor daughter?!? why didnt you do anything, youre her father!!” she said w/ enough feeling to rack her little body. she then looked up at Man and he to was crying. she then looked at his easily. he continued to paint and it was still beautiful things. scenes of his beautiful daughter in white dancing in front of him. this time though, they seemed just paintings. just color on canvas. it lacked the life it once had.
” . . . Man,” she says tenderly, “i dont understand.”
Man says, in almost a whisper, “come and i will show you.”
w/o a thought she goes to the man and everything changes. the hills disappear and fly past them. color twinkles out and the easel and chair Man sat on no longer exist . . . . . . Girl screams as images suddenly rush past her eyes. as she comes into a small town. a small town w/ a small down trodden house. Girl’s house.
“What is this?? why are we here?? i want to leave!!” her efforts and words are futile however as they go into the house . . .
It is christmas and Girl as just opened the few gifts that could be afforded at the time. among them, a beautiful doll. picturesque in her features. perfect in the clothing. and happy in her features. Girl is so happy. she loves this little doll and begins playing w/ it happily. days go on and then the weeks and Girl maintains her little piece of happy.
times were hard for her family. her dad had been layed off and her mom worked two shifts to try and fill the financial gaps her husbands incessant drinking left in their account.
“why does daddy get so angry??” Girl once asked her mother.
“He is just lost.” she answered. “Well maybe we should find him.” Girl replied.
one evening he had had a particularly trying day. hed been trying unsuccessfully to find a job and the unemployment office was being incredibly difficult. he turned to alcohol as he always did and drowned his sorrows in the murky brown liquid.
Girl saw her daddy and desperately wanted him to be happy again. the happy daddy that had bought her the little doll that had brought her so much joy. she walked up to him and set the doll on his lap and said “for you.” she smiled sweetly and told him it would make him happy.
“what the hell?? get this nasty ugly thing off me!!”
” . . . but daddy!! itll make you happy . . .”
“no!! you stupid Girl!! i dont want your ugly doll. you cant make me happy . . .”
just then, w/ that image of his angry face and red drunken eyes plastered in Girl’s memory, Man returned her to the meadow. she was crying now. heaving in her little body. Man came to her and spoke softly in her ear . . . “You are my daughter and i am so proud to call you my child. come back to me and let me paint you once again.”
tangible silence followed his words. Girl let it wash over her. and she looked up.
“What . . . did you say??” she asked him
“i think youre beautiful and it was you that i was painting. you are and forever will be my child. return to me and again you will experience true joy. again you will be able to love. be able to love me and love others.”
(through tears) ” . . . but im so ugly and wounded and torn. noone can ever accept me. ill never make anyone happy.”
“Girl, i want you to think back. when i was painting and you were dancing. you thought to yourself how beautiful she was. how beautiful my daughter was. and then you witnessed her break down and disappear. do you remember??”
“i do.”
“do you remember what you then did?? you looked at me and i was still painting. i was still painting the same girl. she was still beautiful and still pure and still loving. she just lacked oneness w/ me. you lacked oneness w/ me. in my eyes, on my easel, you will ALWAYS be beautiful to me. i have created you in my image and NOTHING will change that. you just have to choose to remain in me or not. i am always here and i will never leave. and i will continue to paint you. i will continue to always see you as you really are.”
” . . . i . . . im not sure how to react . . .” Girl stammered.
“just choose. make the choice that your life depends on.”
at that man and his easel began to fade into the scenery around them. Girl screamed, “no!! we arent finished!! i dont know what to do!!” again she heard, “just choose.” she stopped and just stared. just watched as the colors of the easel seemed to return from whence they came and everything else was just gone.
when she thought all was over she heard one last thing, almost from w/in the ground she stood on, “your name is not Girl. You shall no longer be trapped in the idenetity of a wounded daughter. Your name is Ellen. And you are my daughter. whole and complete in me. i . . . . love . . . . you.”
as Ellen stood there stunned a rush of warm air enveloped her and she felt truly loved. she felt all of the pain and hurt replaced w/ truth and comfort. and then all went black . . . . .
it was 7:30 in the morning and an alarm was blaring on her bedside table. the sun was just beginning to peek through the sheer curtains that were draped over her bedroom window. she reached over and turned the alarm off and set up in bed, opened her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Her name is ellen. it means beautiful and that is how God sees her. She was once a trapped little girl living in wound and hurt pretending to be an adult. But today she made a decision. The decision to live. the decision that will affect the rest of her life for the better
Have you made that choice??
Are you living??
