My family was at our home in Virginia for the summer and my mom was always looking for things to keep us busy while we were there. One summer my Grandma, who we affectionately called Dear, offered to teach me how to paint. As this memory flooded back it seemed as if I could remember every detail. We were driving down a road surrounded by large tress and forest. Pulling down a long curved drive, I see a small home tucked back in those tall trees. As the back door opens, I see a easel set up with two chairs facing toward it. To the left of the easel was a quaint kitchen and to the right there was a little eating nook complete with a table and chairs. I can almost feel the same emotion that I felt in that moment. I was so excited to be with Dear and to spend time with her. She was an incredible painter. We had several of her paintings hung in our home. I thought by the end of the day I was going to paint as beautifully as she did, or at least be on my way to some kind of likeness. My Mom said her goodbyes as Dear and I sat down in those two chairs facing the easel. Looking forward I notice her take a circle full of every color you can imagine into her hands. She looks over at me and says something along the lines of, "this is a color wheel, this is where painting starts."
By: Louis Taylor (Dear)
I can't help but smile and even laugh a little at that memory. I honestly don't know if we ever picked up a paint brush that day. I do remember the love, the time, and the patience she shared with me. I now have some of those beautiful paintings hanging in my own home. Though I didn't for a long time, now that I was reminded of such a sweet memory of her, I look at those paintings and smile. Not just a happy smile, or even a smile of remembrance, but a smile that fills my heart with all the emotion as if I were back in that kitchen, sitting in a chair facing an empty easel, next to someone feeling loved.
Once the day came to have my crash course in watercolor, I was overjoyed, but also a little nervous. Luckily, we had a wonderful teacher. She taught us step by step and was full of grace and encouragement. As she was teaching, in that very moment it all made since, why that memory seemed to pop out of nowhere. I was simply dipping my brush into a plastic cup full of water. Clear as day, impressed on my heart, "spend time with every generation you can, soak up the wisdom and invest in the young." God, God is so good. He is always working and He is always speaking to us. We just need to be still sometimes to hear it or wait a generation for it to be revealed. As I was sitting there with a paintbrush in my hand and that memory fresh on my heart. In that memory, two generations ahead of me, my Grandmother was investing in the generation to come. She didn't share the gospel with me, from what I remember we didn't even pray. But, that day she was kind, patient, loving, full of joy and goodness. Now, sitting in a room full of women representing three generations investing in one another, again I smile. Not just a smile of happiness, but a smile that fills my heart with knowing that God is at work. A confirmation that God is calling Wrinkles and Grace to exist, though we may feel unequipped at times. He has been in control and seen the vision from the time he started writing my story.
"I will teach you hidden lessons from our past stories we have heard and known, stories our ancestors handed down to us. We will not hide these truths form our children; we will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the Lord, about his power and his might wonders." Psalm 78:3
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