Paint

I like painting. In moderation anyway. In the last few days I've repainted much of the downstairs of our house. A little magnetic paint, an accent wall, a few new colors here and there, and repainting where the dog and kids have been a dog and kids for the last three years.

The part I liked best in the recent painting weekend was when I painted the wall the Georgia typiclally lays next to when all of us are gone. We had noticed that the wall was getting dirty, but had no idea of how dirty until I slapped a fresh coat of paint on it. The difference was like night and day.

Two lessons can be learned:

1. When something happens gradually, it really isn't noticable. Like a 150 pound dog laying on a wall for a thousand consecutive days and the wall getting dirty over time. Or putting on two or three pounds a year for 15 years. Or neglecting our relationship with others or with God and one day realizing that we have drifted apart.
2. Restoration can happen. After the first coat of paint dried I put on another coat. For the dirtiest part I put on three coats of paint. And now it looks like new. Walls can be refurbished, pounds can be lost, and relationships can be restored. In the case of a wall it takes work (painting) and grace (some free-time I wasn't really expecting). Restoration and reconciliation is possible, but it takes work and grace.

A wall, partially restored

No running today. Too busy painting.