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THE FRIDGE
The cavernous kitchen stretched before me the gleaming floor mirrored my anxious face as I entered. I made my way toward the one appliance in the room that drew me forward like a magnet the giant Fridge that towered over all else. Its generous surface was covered with colorful pictures and drawings. I wondered if any of mine were still there. I lost hope as I viewed the beautiful pictures before me. One with horses caught my eye. They seemed almost to trot off the paper. Portraits of people graced the fridge further up towards the handle. These were interesting caricatures drawn by an obviously skilled hand.
Farther up on the freezer door flowers blossomed with vivid color and exotic birds looked down on me with black sparkling eyes.
I sighed. I just didn’t have that kind of talent. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I tried and tried and kept trying but mine always turned out a little distorted not quite alive. Sometimes I made little mistakes that I couldn’t correct.
I heard footsteps coming and turned to see His feet approaching. I hid the ragged piece of art that I had just finished behind my back.
“What do you have for me today?” He asked smiling down on me.
“Hmmmmm”—my heart pounded my palms began to sweat and I felt like saying, ‘nothing,’ but then He already knew what was in my hand.
I slowly held out my poor piece of artwork. Some of the colors already had begun bleeding together into unpleasant shades.
“I’m sorry,” I said as He examined it intently.
“I really tried—I mean I thought it was good—until I saw the rest—I know I still don’t have it quite right. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have a better one,” I said holding out my and to take what I thought would be a rejected picture.
“Oh no you don’t!” He said, “ I must have this one. I’ll place it right up there with some of my newest ones so everyone walking by can see it and when they ask I will tell them this one is special because it is from you.”
I was stunned—“it’s not that good,” I protested.
“Who says?” He asked.
I pointed at the others.
“Oh I know. They are good aren’t they? But –well take this one for instance,” he pointed to a gorgeously painted picture of a girl stroking a horses neck. “Now the first ones he brought me-- well let me see-- I have them here.” He pulled open a large wooden kitchen drawer. From it he picked up some pictures.
“Here see this the picture?” I looked to see a very rough drawing of what I supposed was a horse though it was difficult to tell from its distorted head and tiny legs.
Then understanding dawned—“That is the same artist?” I asked incredulously.
“Oh yes! It took time and work for them to achieve what you see today.” -
“And you kept it?”
“ Yes of course I keep all my children’s art here. To me every stroke they put to the paper is amazing and wonderful you know why? I shook my head,” because they are my children and I love them as only a Father can. You see some of these pictures up here with yours are a little rough but that’s ok it’s the giver of the gift and the heart in which they created the art that matters most. Some of these will never be great painters but their work will always be dear to my heart. Just so long as they keep trying and don’t give up. That is all I ask-- Never, never give up!”
( A fictional account of God’s kitchen and His fridge)
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