Reflections On Rembrandt and the Golden Age of Dutch Art

Great artists and their brush strokes mean nothing when paramedics are working on a friend's child in the next room.

Three year olds don't really care all that much for the Dutch masters...but even with the inevitable episodes of fussing and squirming...it's good to bring them along...because somewhere down deep they will remember that the world is full of many beautiful things...and that life on earth is fleeting...but legacies last and last.

Best friends notice what is needed and fill that need...consistently...every time...without fail.

Dads on field trips and parenting intentionally are a blessing to their wives and children.

It's nice to be with gals who smile knowingly when your precious, darling child (not the baby) passes gas amidst the quite serious, never been out of Amsterdam, irreplaceable collection of centuries old masterpieces.

It's nice to be one of those gals when a sweet little boy decides he's had enough of this "art stuff" and the floor needs mopping with his white shirt and prostrate body serving as the tool to get the job done.

They are masterpieces and we are paying to see them...because the silk looks like silk and the velvet looks like velvet...and because it's really as if sunlight is actually coming through that window.

The "firefly room" upstairs...which the kids went through three times... will more than likely be what they remember most vividly.

I'm pleased with the impressions we take home.... that family portraits and pretty dresses and automobiles and photographs and burnt down churches ... and quilts...and canvases colored in shades of true blue....are art pieces too if only we look at them in that way.

Creativity is gift from the Lord and......... the Lord is "the master artist."