Canvas

One day,

The girl was at her easel, painting a picture upon a canvas.

She kept painting, brush stroke after brush stroke,

But something didn’t feel right.

She kept throwing her canvases down.

At one point, the girl threw her hands up in the air and pushed the easel away.

Seeing this strange sight, He approached her and asked,

“Why are you throwing your canvases away Child?”

“It’s not perfect! It looks awful!!” She yelled, “I’m just not a good painter!”

He smiled a gentle smile and placed His hand upon her head.

“You shouldn’t give up so easily” He said.

“I tried and I tried and I tried so hard,” she said with tears in her eyes, “how much more can I do?”

“There’s no point in continuing, I should just give up.” She said.

He took her hand and led her to a small bird perched upon a branch.

“See that baby bird Child?” He asked. She nodded.

“I’ve been watching him for awhile. That baby bird has been struggling to fly, “ He said, “now just imagine Child if he gave up. What do you think would happen?”

She thought carefully for a moment then spoke: “I suppose he wouldn’t survive long in the wild, but he was born for flight! Maybe I’m just not born a painter.” She said.

“Even the bird isn’t aware that it will fly when it is first born Child,” He said, “it discovers this by the promptings of its instincts. What made you want to paint?” He asked.

“I just saw this beautiful nature scene and wanted to capture it through my eyes.” She said.

“Who told you to do that?” He asked.

“What do you mean who told me? I just felt it inside.” She said with a puzzled look on her face.

He smiled, “So somewhere deep within, something compelled you to. Just like this bird, something within him was telling him to use these wings. No matter how many times he stumbles, something compels him to keep going.” He said.

“It’s your decision Child, but if I were you, no matter how many times I would stumble and fall, if something told me to keep trying, I would. You might discover, just as this bird will, that you were meant to paint.”

He turned to leave as the girl sat observing the baby bird.

As he continued to flap his wings,

She picked up her only remaining canvas.

She set it up on the easel, picked up her palette and brush,

And started painting.

Picture reference: http://www.romanpichler.com/blog/the-product-canvas/

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