T’was on one of those early mornings
when driving for a breakfast meeting,
I suddenly realized I had time on hand. I slowed the car down and found I was skirting a beautiful lake. I stopped and got down, walked to steps that led to water below and stood and watched red morning sun reflected on gentle waves that lazily lapped waiting muddy brown shore. I searched for a place to sit and found two garden benches, alas, facing not the lovely lake but ugly traffic filled noisy road behind!
The contractor, in charge of fixing the benches had missed the big picture; the beauty of the lake. A few years ago as I stood with a friend and watched as they lowered his wife into her grave, I wondered what the big picture was. How could a God above, I wondered take her away from loving husband and an only child. I heard the husband as he tried to control the sobbing that tried to come out with every breath. I watched his daughter as she looked with eyes of deep despair at the body of a mother she dearly loved. But, where we sitting on the wrong side of the bench, I wondered. Where we looking at tumult and turmoil, when peace and joy was there somewhere? Was it that we were not perceiving the big picture?
It was years ago on a visit to London that I decided to pay a visit to Windsor Castle. In one of its many magnificent rooms did I see a sculptured marble carving that has never failed to remind me of the big picture: It was a picture called Grief. On a marble bed a warrior lay dead. Grief was portrayed by the seven sisters who were all around his body weeping. The stone figures were so vividly carved that one could feel the sorrow that was etched into faces and bodies.
The dead warrior’s bier and group of sisters took up the major portion of the wall and I would have gone on the next piece of art had my eyes not looked above the sculptured work. I gasped as I realized that the work of art carried on to one more floor. Above the scene of grief, in the same picture, a little new born baby was rising into the sky, and ecstatic angels were leaning down to hold the child and guide it to its heavenly home. The artist had captured grief and joy together.
The big picture was not a wife placed in lonely grave, but her soul joyfully being welcomed by angels and a God above. The big picture is not about troubles we are undergoing but in the strength we are building! I wonder which direction your garden seat is turned towards? To the troubles of the world? Physical pain? Mental torture? Financial ruin? Despair? Rejection? Turn your head gently, ever so gently and start feeling the big picture. There’s a gentle wind on your face and sun in your eyes. There are arms stretching out to hold and steady you. Open your eyes. Let you gaze lock onto the big picture..!
