For Kay, my dear sister in Jesus. May this small tale help to remind आप how beautifully and wonderfully made आप are in the eyes of the Great Artist.
~~ Beautiful ~~
Once upon a time, not long पूर्व and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the तस्वीरें he saw in his head to life in his pictures.
One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling रंग and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous dance of creation.
And finally, the painting was complete. It was a picture of a pretty young girl on a झूला, स्विंग at a park, with a rosy-cheeked face and sweet brown eyes. She was wonderful.
The Artist stood back to admire his latest masterpiece and smiled in satisfaction. It was very good.
Suddenly he gasped in surprise, for something happened! The girl in his painting ... moved!
He rubbed his eyes hard and looked again, but it was true! The girl had frowned for a moment and slipped off the swing.
"Oh dear..." she sighed, running her slender fingers through her शाहबलूत hair and glancing over her shoulder at the other children in the park.
The Artist felt even और surprised to hear her speak aloud, let alone move; but his surprise soon vanished into concern. She seemed to be rather unhappy about something.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Oh nothing. It's just that..." She trailed off and looked down at her shoes, biting her lip.
"That what?"
"I'm not...pretty," she finally said, a small tear glistening on her painted cheek.
"What on earth do आप mean?" asked the Painter, feeling perplexed. Why would she say a thing like that? She was beautiful!
"I'm not as pretty as they are," she said, looking back over her shoulder at the others in the background (particularly taking notice of another girl with a pale face and golden hair.) She looked back at him for a moment then frowned down at her shoes again, unable to look him in the eye. "I think आप made some mistakes with me."
"Like what?"
"Well...there's my feet, for one thing. आप made them way too big. And my nose must be some kind of joke! It looks so stupid."
The Artist patiently listened as she continued to सूची all her faults and compare herself to the others he had painted.
"...I'm fat and ugly, my stomach isn't flat enough, my legs are...I mean, why couldn't आप make me look like that girl over there? She's prettier than me..."
"Stop," he finally said, holding up a hand. "Stop. Look at me."
His voice was so quiet and filled with sadness that she closed her mouth, and had to look at him.
"Listen to me, Dearest," he said, "and listen well: I painted you. I created you."
The girl blushed and tried to look away, but instead found her gaze firmly held द्वारा his calm gray eyes.
"I chose the color of your hair and eyes," continued the Painter. "I chose the shape of your nose and the length of your arms and legs. I made you. And I believe आप are beautiful."
"Yes, the other children I painted are pretty; but not any और या any less than you. They are beautiful simply because I made them each different and wonderful in their own way - just like you."
The Artist lovingly brushed his fingertips over the painting as tears ran down her face.
"You r-really think I'm beautiful?" she whispered.
"Yes," he answered. "I think आप are very beautiful. I am the Artist. I made आप - and I never make mistakes."
"And आप know," he added, "it rather hurts my feelings when आप say आप don't like the way आप look, या when आप compare yourself to others. I wish you'd instead try to see yourself the way I see you."
"I'm...I'm sorry," the girl murmured, blushing again and dropping her eyes in shame.
"I forgive you," chuckled the Artist. "Gladly and completely. But from now on, I want आप to stop putting yourself down and remind yourself और often of how wonderful I think आप are. Could आप please do that? For me?"
He gave her a small, hopeful smile.
The girl in the painting smiled back at him through her tears, eyes shining with joyful gratitude, and whispered,
"I guess I can try."
The End
Psalm 139:13-14 "For आप created my inmost being; आप knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise आप because I am fearfully and wonderfully made."
~~ Beautiful ~~
Once upon a time, not long पूर्व and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the तस्वीरें he saw in his head to life in his pictures.
One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling रंग and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous dance of creation.
And finally, the painting was complete. It was a picture of a pretty young girl on a झूला, स्विंग at a park, with a rosy-cheeked face and sweet brown eyes. She was wonderful.
The Artist stood back to admire his latest masterpiece and smiled in satisfaction. It was very good.
Suddenly he gasped in surprise, for something happened! The girl in his painting ... moved!
He rubbed his eyes hard and looked again, but it was true! The girl had frowned for a moment and slipped off the swing.
"Oh dear..." she sighed, running her slender fingers through her शाहबलूत hair and glancing over her shoulder at the other children in the park.
The Artist felt even और surprised to hear her speak aloud, let alone move; but his surprise soon vanished into concern. She seemed to be rather unhappy about something.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Oh nothing. It's just that..." She trailed off and looked down at her shoes, biting her lip.
"That what?"
"I'm not...pretty," she finally said, a small tear glistening on her painted cheek.
"What on earth do आप mean?" asked the Painter, feeling perplexed. Why would she say a thing like that? She was beautiful!
"I'm not as pretty as they are," she said, looking back over her shoulder at the others in the background (particularly taking notice of another girl with a pale face and golden hair.) She looked back at him for a moment then frowned down at her shoes again, unable to look him in the eye. "I think आप made some mistakes with me."
"Like what?"
"Well...there's my feet, for one thing. आप made them way too big. And my nose must be some kind of joke! It looks so stupid."
The Artist patiently listened as she continued to सूची all her faults and compare herself to the others he had painted.
"...I'm fat and ugly, my stomach isn't flat enough, my legs are...I mean, why couldn't आप make me look like that girl over there? She's prettier than me..."
"Stop," he finally said, holding up a hand. "Stop. Look at me."
His voice was so quiet and filled with sadness that she closed her mouth, and had to look at him.
"Listen to me, Dearest," he said, "and listen well: I painted you. I created you."
The girl blushed and tried to look away, but instead found her gaze firmly held द्वारा his calm gray eyes.
"I chose the color of your hair and eyes," continued the Painter. "I chose the shape of your nose and the length of your arms and legs. I made you. And I believe आप are beautiful."
"Yes, the other children I painted are pretty; but not any और या any less than you. They are beautiful simply because I made them each different and wonderful in their own way - just like you."
The Artist lovingly brushed his fingertips over the painting as tears ran down her face.
"You r-really think I'm beautiful?" she whispered.
"Yes," he answered. "I think आप are very beautiful. I am the Artist. I made आप - and I never make mistakes."
"And आप know," he added, "it rather hurts my feelings when आप say आप don't like the way आप look, या when आप compare yourself to others. I wish you'd instead try to see yourself the way I see you."
"I'm...I'm sorry," the girl murmured, blushing again and dropping her eyes in shame.
"I forgive you," chuckled the Artist. "Gladly and completely. But from now on, I want आप to stop putting yourself down and remind yourself और often of how wonderful I think आप are. Could आप please do that? For me?"
He gave her a small, hopeful smile.
The girl in the painting smiled back at him through her tears, eyes shining with joyful gratitude, and whispered,
"I guess I can try."
The End
Psalm 139:13-14 "For आप created my inmost being; आप knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise आप because I am fearfully and wonderfully made."