Beauty in the Brown

 

my window, my eyes see a simple rectangular plot of desolate

 brown soil. But a seasoned artist knows that an ordinary patch

of brown is made by mixing a combination of vibrant colors–

red,yellow and blue or orange, yellow, and purple.

 

When the Master Artist gazes at that same field, I wonder if He spies more than mere brown. Does He see
the colors of earth and rain dancing together, the rainbow of creation’s tiniest creepers burrowing deep beneath the soil’s surface, the radiance of life, the hope of harvest, the sustenance of nations?

In the aftermath of our mudpie extravaganza, I’ve been wondering if the “brown” in my own life is a bit like
 that field in my backyard. Is my own daily drab-the diapers and dirt and dishes, the fingerprints

 and juice spills and laundry piles-filled with brilliance I cannot see until I peer through the eyes of the
Master Artist?

 

How does a mom steeped in brown spy beauty? Does she dig deeper or simply peer through a new lens?
Inspired by my mud puddle artists, I’m determined to find beauty in my brown.