Rest for the Soul

Today I rested my soul.

Grammie took me to the Norton Art Museum in Shreveport, and we wandered around in a very quiet building inhabiting different worlds. Every painting was a fresh invitation- "Come live with me." I got pulled in head first, and I loved it! My eyes drank up every delicate stroke, every nut brown eyelash, every aquamarine ripple. I was drenched, rested, blessed. Every gaze at a new picture was like a prayer to God. My eyes felt full. It made me yearn for something intangible . It caused me to marvel at a God who would let a man "create" this kind of beauty with a free will that might just try to take the glory for himself.

One of my favorites was actually in black and white, an interminably deep forest hung with vines and shadows, secret and almost holy in a way, because it looked as if no one had been there before. The trees and a cliff in the background seemed to stretch so far up in the sky and were so closed and dense, with just a frail patch of light sifting into the gloom. Now I wish we'd just stayed in one room, soaking up each painting for a full 20 minutes or so to catch every velvet sheen of a cow's back, every creeping forest shadow. I just marvel that anyone is able to recreate reality on a piece of paper like that, with such perfection and faithfulness. I'm jealous.

I left the museum feeling settled inside, and somehow more beautiful myself, for having looked at such beauty.