Last summer, when we were in Aspen, we went into an art gallery with the kids. They love going to art galleries but for some reason, the galleries don't necessarily love my children. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe it's because they're young and sometimes have the remnants of ice cream on their faces. Or it's because they sense the clumsiness that eminates from my pores and therefore must have been passed down to my children.
In one gallery, Olivia literally walked head-on into a sculpture priced at $325,000. The gallery manager followed closely behind us the rest of the time. Maybe she could tell we weren't carrying that much cash on us. I was wearing Crocs which is a dead giveaway.
Graham, kept dragging me around the gallery pointing out the still life, abstract, and pointilissm pieces. He was six.
Needless to say, the kids have a pretty terrific art teacher at school. They've brought home some beautiful things that I've hung all over the house.
Every once in a while, though, they come home with pieces that I'm honestly just not sure what to do with.
And last year there was this one.
Oh, totally. Totally.
I have tried to file it away in the trash several times but just can't bring myself to get rid of it. Instead, I dust it and keep it on a shelf. I mean, it has my baby girl's fingerprints all over it. She created something out of nothing just like the Lord does with us. And someday, when the veil is lifted, we will finally see the beautiful work of art He created all of us to be.
Just like this guy.
Or, maybe not.