My dad is an artist. He doesn’t paint pictures to sell or sculpt statues but he does tell detailed, captivating stories in a way that come to life in people’s minds when he teaches about Jesus. He doesn’t build things but he does craft their yard into a healthy, lush, manicured garden of wide variety. When he taught me piano lessons as a young child, he would draw pictures in my notebook each week so I could fill in little circles in the drawing with my practice times. While our girls were young he would decorate birthday cakes for them according to the theme of their party that would rival any professional bakery’s work. Continue reading
My Father, the Artist
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