I have precise ideas about life. Almost mathematically precise. Like a ruler, a compass, and a protractor. How the people around me should behave, how they should look, how I should look, what I should have, what I should do, where I should get to. I know exactly what is supposed to happen to me in life. I calculated it perfectly. Good, huh? Today I looked at it from a distance and remembered that I was never really good at math. The angles don’t fit here, and the sum of the two sides of the triangle is less than the third side. Here I missed a decimal point by two places… I can’t square power. I can’t even subtract.

I’m weaving a tapestry of my life. I’m annoyed that I have a limited number of colors available to me from my own resources. (And that I’m a little colorblind). And so I rage, weaving and unweaving, weaving and unweaving. When a crooked pattern comes out, I get frustrated. I won’t let Master Weaver invite me to His workshops.

This morning, I finally understood the freedom of surrender when I set aside my ideas and expectations of what I want my tapestry to look like. Suddenly I have His infinite palette of colors and materials at my disposal. I put down my drawing supplies and surrender. That’s when I win. Suddenly I am an artist who recognizes the mathematical laws of composition and perspective. The result will be a balanced work of art.