Waking up this morning, I saw the image of a child’s desk, stained with marker residue and dried paint.
A joyful image. A history of time spent creating, experimenting, imagining.
An echo of the beauty perceived by a little person in the world around them.
A reflection of the beauty inside that child’s mind and heart.
Smudges of color, soaked into the surface.
Lines and shapes merging, settling with time;
accumulating evidence of creativity,
of minutes and moments spent absorbed
with the muse or the Spirit,
and the self.
Quiet and joyful, the time spent at that surface.
A refuge sometimes.
An invitation,
always,
offered by the surface of the paper set on top:
To create,
to reveal,
to express,
to process,
to show or speak uniquely,
with developing skill
and developing courage, too, perhaps.
I see the surface of a child’s desk, smudged with marker colors and paint.
A joyful surface, beloved to one child and to the One.
Those beautiful smudges.
That beautiful soul.
Beloved.
Can you see it, too?