Grace chose peace.
And they tenderly painted.
And blasted heat.
And awkwardly navigated through putty.
And cluttered. Until they couldn't possibly fit more drama onto their peace.
No one's looked the same. No one's treasure was predictable. Each one was beauty out of a random mess. Just like them. Just like their parents.
Peace... through His tenderness. Peace... amidst the heat of oppression and suffering. Peace... despite awkward confusion. Peace... reflected in the mosaic of messiness turned redemption.
No, it's not random at all, I guess.
It's indeed a masterpiece. The Maker's every-evolving Story -- forever unpredictable -- calm and still and full of rest.
Grace chose peace. His grace chose peace for me. I think I'll choose it, too.