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June 20, 2011

Process. I love process. Maybe that’s why I am a preschool teacher.

Goals are wonderful. I’m quite goal oriented myself, but the process– I’ve come to realize that if I only care about the goal then I would never understand the hard work put into a painting done by an uncoordinated four year old.

Without recognizing or enjoying the process, I might miss out on the beauty of waiting, trial and error, and having growing pains in life.

In preschool we love to paint. One of my favorite pieces this year is a blue blob with a brown spot.

He started with several brown, squarish blobs on the paper. After mastering his “buildings” he changed paint brushes and started drenching his canvas in blue.

Thick blue paint ran down the page, leaving a mess of streaks. Dark blue swirled around the canvas until his brown buildings were no longer in sight, save one.

I continued to watch as he put his final master touches to the painting. Twenty minutes passed in total.

“I’m done.”

“Oh yah, what is it?”

“Japan had horrible damage.”


I’m glad that our Father sees the whole process. Otherwise, we might all just look like a blue blob of running paint. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I, too, am in process and it’s all going to be okay.

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