Last night, I re-watched a great movie, Mr. Holland’s Opus. For any of you that have never seen it, heads up, this post is a spoiler. Any whoo… the premise of the movie is that this would-be composer has to take a job as a teacher in order to eventually do what he wants, to compose a great American symphony. But as is life, things change. He ends up living this story that at the end of the movie is his greatest masterpiece. It’s all the lives he touched as a teacher, strewn together in a melodic symphony that is, his journey.
Even though how he got there does not resemble the original plan for his life, he did write the symphony of his dreams.
The movie left me wondering what I’d like my life to resemble. I keep coming back to a work of art. Be it a quilted tapestry, or a beautiful mosaic. A collage of good and bad pieces that when brought together make a gorgeous work of art.
I want my life to display first and foremost, my savior. He saved me when I was 29; therefore, there are some parts of my quilt that are really ugly. Very flawed, poorly chosen, parts. BUT… they are still mine. In those first 29 years I made some really bad decisions. Choices, that would plague me up until that beautiful moment when I understood who I was in Christ. Those broken pieces that were so sharp and atrocious that only as part of a bigger mosaic could make any sense. In Christ, the pieces are no less sharp, but they ARE a heck of lot brighter.
My heartfelt desire is that every broken piece or tattered piece of cloth, used in the mosaic or quilt of my life, after that fateful moment of redemption, is, that it is brighter than the ones that came before. That in the broken pieces beautifully woven together since my salvation, it be evident that the life lived was different, it shown a light not previously seen. I pray that in the finished quilted tapestry of my life it be evident that I am HIS and HE is mine.
My quilt would display a family that is flawed, but loving. A childhood not void of pain and anguish, but definitely blessed with acceptance and unconditional support and love. Teenage years, filled with laughter and lifelong friendships. My quilt will display me as both a strong, independent person, and at times a very weak woman. A wife who has both lived in a blessed union, and in a less than ideal one. A mother who has both made mistakes, and loved fiercely. A sister that would both disappoint, and love without failure. A grand-daughter who both cherished every second given, and failed to visit when she could. A cousin who both kept a secret, and avoided difficult conversations. A friend who both showed up when it was needed, and failed to return a call. My life will not look pretty when you stand really close to the mosaic that God is constructing. But, I pray that when I go home. When I am finally called home to live in eternity with my Creator that I will have the immense pleasure of seeing the finished work of art.
I always imagine a moment in eternity where I am called into, or wander through, what appears to be a gorgeous room. Like the ones I saw as a child in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City when I was 14 (maybe 15). There will be a bench in the middle of this grandiose room, a bench that beckons the weary wanderer to sit and take in the expanse of the room and the art that fills an entire wall. What would appear to be a huge ornate mural turns out to be a mosaic made of shards of sharp glass in all shades of color and in all sizes. A mosaic that on first glance is simply breath taking because of all the variances in colors and shapes. Each piece displays a moment. A single speck of a moment in a life well-lived. Only when one is given the opportunity to sit on that lone bench can one see IT. The entire masterpiece. The finished product. That moment in time when we stop seeing the mosaic for the many parts that make it up, but when we see the one piece of art it created. The singular, created from the plural.
I imagine sitting on that bench admiring the work of art that God created out of both the beauty and the mess of my life and just admiring it. What HE did. Perhaps, HE will join me on that bench, and lightly put HIS hand on my shoulder, and we could both just sit. Sit together and enjoy the completed work.
I don’t know what eternity will be like; because, we’re told that eye hasn’t seen, and mind cannot comprehend the glory that will come. But, there is a part of me that simply knows there will be art. After all, we are HIS workmanship, created for HIS good purpose. We see scripture tell us that we are clay to HIS hands. I have eternity written on my heart, and I understand that I’m in exile here, in this fallen world… but… if it requires fire to refine the pieces that HE will use for that final mosaic that HE is designing, then, so be it. I choose to trust the artist with the finished product.
I’ve included with this post some random pictures of these past 43 years. Obviously, there’s a lot missing. But, while I was thinking of writing this post last night, these brought me joy to look at and think of what my finished masterpiece may include.
