Painting the Scars

Are you artistically inclined? Each of us have a propensity to create, whether it’s through baking, crafting, woodworking, gardening, writing, painting—or whatever. When we create from our deepest self, that when beauty can really rise from the ashes.

In Colleen’s Confession, Colleen Sullivan loves to draw and dreams of growing in the craft. But tragedy strikes when her fiancé perishes in the sinking of the ocean liner RMS Empress of Ireland on his way to meet her. With Colleen’s orphan dreams of finally belonging and becoming a wife and an artist gone, what will her future hold?

Here’s a little taste of the story:

Colleen sighed, sucking in her bottom lip and shifting nervously from foot to foot. Her uncertainty must’ve been evident, for Mr. Alson’s brows narrowed. He took her hands in his, gazing at her bandaged hand and shaking his head.

His coffee-brown eyes almost hid his pupils, so dark and deep they were. “Are you left-handed?”

Her hands quivered as she tried to quell her trepidation, but to no avail. “Yes.”

His clean-shaven face had tiny, black dots of stubble darkening his jawline. “Being left-handed is a sign of artistic propensities.”

Really? The nuns had smacked her hand when she used it, claiming it was a mental deficiency she must overcome. A ripple of hope edged through her mind, scaring her more than Timmy, the orphanage’s meanest bully. She pasted on a grateful smile.

Mr. Alson grew somber, his gaze lugubrious. “I see someone has hurt you. I see it even more in your eyes. In your countenance.” He paused, staring at her, compassion filling his eyes. “The tapestry of one’s life often has dark threads that can bring out the lighter, deeper beauty. If you let it.”

She shuddered under his discerning gaze. She nodded, then shrugged. It was as if he could see into her very soul. She sucked in a breath and held it.

“Paint the scars, Miss Sullivan. Don’t flee from them. Don’t shun them. Embrace them so you can be free to soar. They will give you power to create in a way that little else can. Hurts and scars and shadows of the past can generate hues that bring your art to life. Without pain, we are one-dimensional creatures who have little to share.”

His words were as gentle as a kitten’s lick, yet as powerful as a lion’s roar.

Can you relate? Check out Colleen’s Confession. You’ll be glad you did.

 

 

 

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