Life in 3-D

My sweet husband took me to an art gallery recently. We have taken our family to art galleries in the past, and as a group everyone is usually sensitive to everyone else as to how much time we spend in each room looking at art. Not too slow, not too fast. So when I mentioned to my husband that I had never gone to an art gallery and spent as much time as I like pausing to look at art, he promised to take me to the National Gallery of Scotland in Edinburgh and let me linger as long as I like.

And I did. Meandering into a room, I ambled up to a painting, took it all in, slipped over to read the plaque, drew close to admire the brushwork, backed up to study the composition, and (if Robert happened to be standing close by) explained what I liked about it. Robert was completely patient; I was completely relaxed. It was great.

Of course, we had to visit the gift shop. You always do. Granted, prices are high, but browsing is cheap. I was in earnest search for a postcard with a painting of a more obscure artist when I happened upon something really cool in the kids' section. There I found cards of famous paintings that opened up into cylinders. You look into the cylinder through magnifying glasses on one side, and you see two parts of the painting on the other side. By looking into the cylinder, you could suddenly see a painting you've admired for years in 3-D. When Robert came into the gift shop from the coat room, he found me eagerly looking into each cylinder. I was like a little kid, and he humored me by looking into a few.

This morning I thought about that day and an analogy came to mind. It occurred to me that I keep expecting real life to be like a beautiful, flat painting. Limited in the comprehension of my surroundings, I tend to evaluate life in 2-D.

Oh sure, I study close and at a distance. I take in all sides. I read and talk to others for counsel, but I don't take into account that life doesn't happen in 2-D.

It's definitely 3-D; always on a path; always in motion; always changing.

I wish I could have one of those little paper cylinders that would give me a more acurate view of life. Better yet, I wish I could read my bible and pray and talk to Christian friends in 3-D. I don't want to miss out on the most accurate perspective.

But maybe it's just my eyes that need a little adjustment.