It was beautiful.
The best, most gorgeous mosaic I have worked on in ages. The first one, in fact, I have been able to make myself actually sit down to do in ages. Art is not dead in me, but being in school kicked my butt and the fact is, art is messssay. I haven't been able to get myself to make stuff in a long time just because I didn't want to trash the house any more than it was already trashed, but the time for the Way of the Cross is coming and I knew that I wanted to do one of the stations of the Cross...Jesus praying in the garden.
I stood in that garden. Broke the law in that garden (I brought home a little tiny piece of an olive tree from the olive grove... so shoot me, it was Israel. I'm an American. I couldn't resist. Hopefully the rest of mankind will resist so that we'll still have a garden at Gesthemane to visit in the future...). I looked at ancient trees and marveled at what close proximity everything was to each other-- Bethlehem is just down the road, not four days away; the Mount of Olives is THIS hill, not a mile down the road; Jesus made a decision that changed all of mankind in this garden.
I have to think more on this. I'm distracted. Some insane program is blaring in the other room, my feet are KILLING me and the stained glass window I so love CRACKED while I was working on it last night and it broke my heart. I just screamed when it happened... then broke down crying like I was seven years old. "Dooooonnnn...." I sat on the back porch and cried. And cried. It was so beautiful. Such a gorgeous piece.
I wonder about this.... I'm the Creator of this thing, the artist who conceived its design and all of that-- it's precious to me. But I pressed too hard in one spot and the thing couldn't take it and it just cracked in 5 places and I am staring at it in horror and I think...what can I learn from this? Does this mean something? Was I too proud of it? Like it too much? But also, what if it had cracked ITSEFL? How would I feel? I'm thinking about me now.
God made up his mind, lo, these 37 years ago, to make a girl called Samantha. He thought up what I would look like, things I would enjoy, stuff I would be good at. And I think that His artist's heart put Himself into everything He created (to be sure, there is some of my blood in this stained glass piece I'm doing)(and most of them-- dangerous work, mosaic-ing). And I cracked. In adolescence, at my own hands, but cracked.
Nothing in me wants to throw this piece out. I don't even want to pull the pieces off of this original work and apply it to a new one-- I want THIS one. I want to save it, fix it, make it work....
Jesus cried out in the garden: I want THIS one, I want to SAVE it, fix it, make it work...
So He laid down His precious, perfect, holy, unblemished life. After those beautiful moments in the garden, He picked up my cracked life, this cracked world, and redeemed it. Cut Himself open with the shards of sin and decay. Poured out His blood and bought it.