I was in my basement and came across something my grandmother made two summers ago, which has yet to be framed. The notion that a woman in her 70s was able to make that with such preciseness is perplexing. I can't even cut a straight line.
Her artwork reminded me of God and His carefulness and love when He created me. The moment brought me shame when I thought of all the complaints I had about myself. Too often I concentrated on my imperfections (as viewed by the human eye) that it slipped my mind that I'm a big screaming deal to God. That I was created to have an intimate fellowship with Him not because of what I am but because of what He is.
Praise God and His great love.
