Posted on by gettingofftheinterstate

Mosaics

by Donna Poole

“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.”—Stanley Horowitz

Little did the poet guess when he penned those words for a 1983 edition of the Reader’s Digest how many thousands of photographers, painters, and writers he would inspire. Though many may not recognize his name, searches for Horowitz’s poem skyrocket on the internet each fall. The most current statistics I could find were from the New York Public Library in 2011: “A search of his name and the first line of the poem retrieved around 1,630,000 results.”

I can see why those lines are so loved, can’t you? The metaphor is gripping and beautiful and makes us think of the mosaic of our own lives. The artists among us do that; they grab us by the collar as we rush by, oblivious, and they whisper to us, “See.”

What do you see when you look back over the mosaic of your life? Memories grow hazy along the way and are colored by our personalities too; what we see depends on whether we look back with bitterness or a benediction.

I can’t remember all the names and faces of the people who’ve walked a mile or two with me on my backroads, but I know that they each have left a piece of themselves that is now the pattern of me. Time has smoothed many jagged pieces of glass in my mosaic, so they no longer hurt as they once did. Light shines brighter from behind some pieces reminding me of people and of why I loved them.

I bend down and run my fingers over the bright colors and smile at the memories forever preserved of our four children as babies, toddlers, teens, and young adults. I see their weddings. Among the brightest flashes of color in my mosaic are our thirteen grandchildren who refuse to stop moving, even in this still life art memory.

When I look back at the pieces in my mosaic, I remember smiles that warmed my heart, encouraging words spoken when I was exhausted from the long walk, and laughter that wove its beautiful wave of color around the darker times. I see so many prayers. I recall a line in a book here, a quote from a teacher there, a hug from a friend. Woven among all the years, laughter, and tears, I find God’s Word, because more than anything it has enriched my life.

I look ahead and wonder what colors will still add to my mosaic before the design is complete.

We add something to every life we touch. Is a look of kindness, a word of encouragement, a hug to dispel the fog of indifference too much to give? I want to give more and more as we walk each other Home. The tiny piece I add to the mosaic of someone’s life may glow for them far after I am gone.

It has been a beautiful autumn here in Michigan. I agree that “Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.”—Stanley Horowitz

Photo Credit: Kimmee Kiefer

18 Replies to “Mosaics”

  1. My dear friend you just keep getting better all the time. So thankful Our mosaics include precious memories of you and John. Blessings and Love.

    1. A light shines brightly on the pieces of our mosaic marked Pastor Mohr and Karn! We thank God for you.

  3. As always……wow! You have certainly been a word artist that has made me stop and look and listen and appreciate! I am so thankful God has given you this gift of words….. you put words together so beautifully and I apprciate that! I am praying for you!

  4. One word… Beautiful.
    THE words just flow from your pen. Perfectly interwoven. The reader sees instant colours and instant memories come to. Mind on how one’s life has been touched…by others,.. Experiences,… And above all by The Lord.
    Thx again Donna.
    Hugs

  5. What a lovely piece, Donna! All your thoughts are meaningful and leave stirring images. However, you made one simple statement that really spoke to my spirit, more than all the others: “I want to give more and more as we walk each other Home.” How perfectly expressed. I am going to write it inside my Bible. Actually, it could even be made into a life motto. Thank you so being the sweet blessing.

    P.S. Do you have a daughter named Angie? Our oldest went to Maranatha, and one of the first people she befriended was a girl named Angie Poole from the Hillsdale area. Our daughter’s name then was Bethanie Hatt. She is now Bethanie Harmon.

    1. Deborah,

      How fun to make the extra connection that our girls were friends at Maranatha! God bless you. Tell Beth we said hello!

  6. What a blessing! You’re perspective is challenging and comforting at the same time. God bless you richly!

  7. Totally delighted in your writings, Donna. Thank God for your words of wisdom every day.

  8. My dear Donna❤️ You always make me think about things and many times give me a new perspective. Thank you and God bless you, my dear friend🙏❤️🙏🏽

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