I discovered the magic of artistic burning into wood. The burner literally draws on wood what my hand tells it to draw. I was surprised at how easy it was. Not always, though. The wood needs to be soft and the surface smooth. Otherwise, the picture is crooked and not pleasing at all. My hand stopped to a halt over the picture I was burning. Isn’t my life also such a surface where I draw pictures of my stories? If I want the final picture of my life to be breathtaking, I need to be soft, not rough. I need to be balanced, not blunt and crooked. What will I burn into the wood of my life? There are endless possibilities, thanks God!

Burning leaves furrows in the wood. If wood could talk, it would probably tell us that burning hurts. But it’s well worth it. I want to endure a little pain for the beauty that I will be able to create. Nevertheless, I mustn’t stubbornly press on life. I would burn holes in it… Fortunately, even those can be attractively integrated into the composition.