Judging points out the thorn and misses the rose
It sees the wrong stroke on a beautiful painting – blind to the artist’s heart
Judging finds the crooked stitch on a quilt – removing its warmth
It shows the chip out of a wooden chair – not as a place to sit and rest
When you judge – you become the thorn
You paint the wrong stroke
You sew the crooked stitch
You become the tool that chips the wood
You could be the softness and the scent of that rose – drawing others near
You could be the pallet and the vastness of its colors – brushing beauty
You could be a thread that weaves us together
You could polish the grain of the wood – allowing the tree to live again
Rather than judging – choose to be the painting of the rose on the quilt
over the chair.