my artist

She skillfully holds the paintbrush. It fits naturally in between her fingers, as if her hands were made to hold it.

She sits quietly. This little girl who very rarely stops talking… she sits quietly while she paints!!!

She perches on the edge of her chair with grace, but only as long as that paintbrush rests in her grip. Without the brush, gracefulness does not come naturally.

My beautiful artist cocks her head to the side and thoughtfully stares at her work.

Now comes the chatter.

“Mamma! I’m going to do thin stripes with this paintbrush and then use this other brush for the fat ones, alternating them in a patt-er-in!”

Who taught her which brush was good for which effect? Who taught her to do shading in just the right places? Who taught her to hold her instruments correctly?

God did.