A true mosaic is made of tiny little pieces, hand picked for their relation to the completed picture.
Chosen by color to fit within a certain place at a certain time to create a picture. The picture may be of something soothing to the soul, something of a graphic nature or anything the artist culls from the depths of his being and seen with his mind’s eye.
Life is like that mosaic, God’s hand gathering lives of color to form a masterpiece, a body, cell by cell. Tiny little pieces put together color by color and forging something unforgettable, something that fits perfectly into the master plan, God’s handiwork that is continually growing and always seeking the path to Heaven.
Reflecting back upon the years of my life, I have found that the pieces fit perfectly, not always by my doing and not always understanding. People have come and gone but the memory of them is always at hand. Everyone that has made an appearance in my life has served a purpose, at least for that time, some I reflect on fondly, others I think about and toss them back into the dark corners of my memory.
Happiness and pain fitting together because one can’t know one without the other. The ups and downs, the ins and outs, the ying and the yang, all mean there is a perfect balance somewhere and we spend our waking hours searching for it. Pushing and pulling and wondering why is this happening to me?
There is an order to life, it is a perfect order and it is perfectly timed, but while putting the pieces together there are some which are imperfect, but somehow they fit. There are pieces of colors we know nothing about, yet somehow they also fit. The mosaic of life can only be made by a master.
every picture tells a story 