Thursday afternoon, I sat out on the dock to get out of the house. I found a rock sitting on the dock where I wanted to sit down. Then I started reflecting – about the rock, about myself, and about God.
When I first started painting rocks, I learned to look at the rock first and see if it looked like anything. The rock would be more beautiful when its art reflected its shape. This rock was relatively smooth, but it had two sections of it that had clearly broken off.
My first thought seeing this rock was that it was broken, and that was sad. Yet those places where the rock had severed were beautiful and full of crystals. The smoothness of the rest of the rock covered the crystals. So, maybe the fact that the rock was broken wasn't sad but peaceful. Also, those broken sections were not as jagged as they could have been, so the lake water probably was “healing” the rock for some time before I found it.
In some ways, this rock reflects me. I am mostly whole, but I have some broken places. I come from a broken home, but the years and some reflection have smoothed over the jagged edges. A few people that I love have died, leaving holes in my heart, but time has smoothed over those holes, too. Sure, the holes are still there, but they don't hurt as much anymore. Most of all, though, I am broken by sin. My sinful actions mar my surface, yet God smoothes over my scars.
Brokenness can be sad and painful, like loosing a loved one. But that brokenness doesn't have to be sad forever. Sometimes brokenness can show a beautiful interior. For example, in high school I wrote a poem about how I was “razmatazz red” on the inside and beige on the outside. Relating this to another metaphor about me, the beige was the shell to my brilliant red interior. Well, my shell is broken, and I am much happier for it. More of my red is showing, and everyone can see it.
I'm not sure how I will paint this rock, or if I will at all. Either way, it is beautiful.