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Emmaus Farm
Mar. 6, 2008
A Masterpiece
My birthday is approaching and I’ve been thinking a lot about the past. Recently I was remembering high-school, specifically the last week when we were trading around our annuals to get them signed by classmates. High-school was a bumpy road for me, I paved it that way. I wasn’t good at following and back then the teachers were not so tolerant of… unique expressions of will. How is that for saying rebellion? So I did my time and was finally about to graduate. I had saved all the required elective courses for last and found myself forced to fulfill the requirements in my last semester. Three straight hours every day in art class! Funny, I still can’t paint, draw or sculpt.
Now don’t imagine where this is going when I say, “There was this boy…” No. I already had my prince, a ring on the finger and a date set. But there was this boy who was so gifted in art. After spending hours a day in the same class, I felt confident to judge such things. He was different, one with such talent generally has the pride to go with it. He was quiet and even though girls were eager to fawn over his talent, he pretty much kept his face to his work. He sat next to me in many of these classes and I had nothing of interest to do in art class so I watched him paint and draw. Sometimes I would try it myself although my hippy teacher wasn’t so concerned about me producing art as much as attending class. On occasion he offered helpful instruction, the boy, not the hippy.
So after our time together, I felt we had the relationship to support my request at the end of the year. I asked him to draw somethingwonderful, unique and special just for me. I handed him my book and walked away expecting a great work of art that I could share when he was famous someday and I could boast of how, ‘ I knew him when’
A short time later he handed my book back and returned to his work. I eagerly thumbed through the pages to find my special gift. The masterpiece made just for me. Expecting it to explode off the page as I quickly flipped through. Huh? I flipped through again a little more slowly. Where was it? So I sat down and started to look on every page. I found it. There toward the back. He had carefully drawn me a one inch cross. That was it!? That was all?! He didn’t even sign his name either. No scroll work, no scenery, nothing fancy. I didn’t want to show him my disappointment and thanked him but I didn’t get it. I thought that maybe it was a joke he was playing on me. Maybe he was making fun of me.
I really didn’t get it. In the years after high-school, I occasionally looked through my annuals. I’d see that cross and the same puzzled bewildered feelings came over me, why did he give me just that? I wanted something special, unique, made just for me. I’d stare at it and wonder.
I’ve been a Christian for many years now and not long ago that cross came into mind and I got it. I got what he already had and I understood. What that quiet boy was saying so simply back then. He gave me a picture of something special and unique that was just for me. Something wonderful.
I don’t know his name, it is forgotten after all these years. I don’t know if he is famous or just a working dad somewhere in suburbia but what a wonderful work of art and great gift. I'll always have that Masterpiece.
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Comments
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Posted by
Anonymous 
Mar. 6, 2008 - Happy B day!
Laurel