Gifted

"…and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability and knowledge in all kinds of crafts — to make artistic designs…" Exodus 35:31-32a

When I was in middle school, my sister was a senior in high school and she won a state art competition for a dot drawing of a bluebird she had done.  Her work was displayed in the state capitol, and my parents were very proud of her.  They had that piece custom-framed and hung it above the fireplace mantle.  At her graduation, all her art was displayed on the wall around it and throughout our home for the guests to admire.  She had done some beautiful pieces in many different mediums, and everyone who came told her how wonderful her art was.  "You really have a gift, Shannon,"  I heard over and over.

I had also been taking art classes, and I had hung up all my work from the past year at the end of the hallway.  I kept dragging people back to look at my display, but no one said such encouraging things to me as "You really have a gift, Amanda!  You should do something with your talent!"  No, I only got polite remarks like "That's nice, honey." 

Part of the problem was that I was five years younger than my sister.  But more than that, God had not given me a natural artistic ability.  At the time, though, I was very hurt and angry with my sister.  I could not appreciate any of her great pictures because I was beset with jealousy.  And most of all, I hated the picture of that bluebird with the big blue ribbon attached to it. 

Shannon went off for her first year of college, and I had my last year of middle school.  I took art again and tried one thing after another, trying to find something I could do well.  Watercolors were a complete bust.  Oil pastels, not much better. Calligraphy seemed to suit me, but it didn't really seem like art.  I did a couple of etchings that turned out nice, though I cheated and traced parts of the bird I had to draw.  I so desperately wanted my art to be beautiful like my sister's. 

That year I also had a new English teacher who made us journal everyday in class.  She would read our journals periodically and comment on them.  At the end of the year she wrote me a two page letter at the end of my journal encouraging me to keep writing.  She told me I was gifted. 

I must have reread that letter fifty times.  I was so relieved to find that someone (other than my parents) thought I had a gift.  I may not be able to draw or paint like my sister, Shannon.  I may not be able to sing or speak publically like my brother, Travis.  But I could write a well-crafted sentence.

Suddenly, I was able to appreciate the beauty in that picture of a bluebird above my parents' mantle.  

When Shannon came home for the summer, I confessed to her, in tears, my jealousy and resentment toward her.  I told her how hateful I had felt and that I was sorry.  Then I asked her if I could keep one of her art pieces.

Today, that picture she gave me, a colored pencil drawing of a woman holding her small boy on the shore, is custom-framed and hanging in my home.  I proudly tell the guests who visit, "My sister drew that picture when she was in high school.  She is really artistic." And I smile, without a twinge of jealousy.

"Now the body is not made up of one part, but of many."  I Corinthians 12:14