The silence as broken at last by the bell signifying the end of morning activity. Turning to the old woman, I asked, "What are you looking at?" I immediately flushed. Prying into the lives of the residents was strictly forbidden. Perhaps she had not heard. But she had. S1ow1y she turned toward me, and I could see her face for the first time. It was radiant. In a voice filled with joy she said, "Why, child, I am looking at the Light."
I found myself wondering how far she could ultimately journey in her art if she remained self-centered and not God-centered. To be centered entirely on the self is inevitably to be limited in one's range; to be centered on God, aligning one's own self with the power of the Creator is to be open to the spiritual range of all humanity, to be in touch with the eternal, not merely the ephemeral. She was a fine artist, but with her narrowed vision she risked failing to reach her full potential -- or was she, in her preoccupation with beauty and truth, not so far from being God-centered as I in my arrogance supposed?