Happy Accidents

The other day I was having an ice cream with my friend Faith and what did we talk about? Of course: boys. I told her, as I am now telling you all, about my decision to take a year to be intentionally single. I told her that even if an attractive, friendly young man asked me on a date, I would say no because of this year-long commitment.

Of course, this doesn't keep me from desiring to go on a date, to fall in love, etc.

What if, during this next year of my life, I meet someone very, very special, and then I lose him because of the commitment I've made? Because I turned him down even though I didn't want to?


I'm not much of a painter at all, but I just watched my first Bob Ross episode. His voice was so soothing that I wanted to fall asleep, but I was way too intrigued by the beautiful painting unfolding before my eyes, which Bob Ross said reminded him of his own home in Alaska, to sleep.

Bob Ross is remembered for his views on mistakes. In this clip, he states the following:

"See what happens. As you paint, you see all kind of things happening on your canvas and very soon you learn to use all these beautiful little things that happen. I think in one of the earlier shows I mentioned, we don't, we don't make mistakes. We have happy accidents."

Now I really want to unfold this corny little metaphor I came up with over ice cream with Faith.

God is Bob Ross. My life is a canvas. Blank when I'm born and slowly developing over time. Bob and I are painting my life together, taking turns with the brush. Of course, Bob is the instructor and I am the pupil, but this is still a joint effort. Both our names get signed at the bottom in the end.

Bob Ross doesn't really seem to have any flaws in his paintings. They're stunningly beautiful. He is masterful, skilled, creative. His fingers move any brush with finesse. Then the brush is passed to me, but I am clumsy, stupid, and bumbling. I don't blend the colors well. I make a few wrong strokes. I act like I know what I'm doing but what I've ended up painting is not what I intended it to look like at all. I had no idea how to put on canvas the scene in my head, and I royally screwed it up.

While I pout, Bob Ross gently takes the brush from me and says, "You know what, you may have made some mistakes, but we're going to turn them into happy accidents. This painting will be more beautiful in the end because of your mistakes, but only if you allow me to turn them into something good."

Am I not right about this?

When I look back at all the mistakes and sin in my past, I no longer see a sloppy, shameful mess. I also don't see God covering it up with a rug saying, "Let's just pretend that didn't happen." I see grace. I don't know about you, but to me, grace is far more beautiful than if I were perfectly righteous to begin with.

Which is more beautiful to you-- an immaculate, perfectly groomed woman in a sultry evening gown? Or a woman with wild curly hair and gangly legs who piled up her hair into a beautiful bun and wore a sundress despite her gangly-ness? Perfection or completion?

Maybe it's just my opinion.

Whether you agree or not, though, you're going to make mistakes. And God will always say, "That's okay, we can work with that." Over time our painting skills will improve if we let our instructor do his job.

So if I meet the man of my dreams during this year and I turn him down, do you really think my life will end up in shambles? Do you really think I'll have "ruined everything"? Is there any way I can possibly mess this up?

That being said, I don't think my decision is a mistake, or at all sinful. I think this is healthy and will bring further healing to an area of my life that has been badly broken. This painting is a dual effort and we are going to use all the beautiful little things that happen.


God bless.