Chasing Reality.

8 -Take my Eyes.

An easy task, yes, but a daring feat.

Chelsea tapped her foot on the floor, a habit she cultivated when she got stressed, and watched Clary, for the 'n'th time, try to find the canvas with her brush.

After a brutal session of picking up the brush and putting it in the different paints, Clary thought she was ready to paint. Boy was she wrong, finding the canvas was the main problem.

"C'mon Clary, you can do this," Chelsea charged Clary on. "A little to the right." Clary was right-handed so it was kinda obvious to she was going a bit to the left. "Yes, yes," Chelsea smiled as Clary moved closer. "Yes!" She celebrated as her Clary's brush found the canvas.

Although Clary was skeptical about painting, Chelsea's joy at such a small achievement, made her feel better about herself, and she joined in the celebration.

The class had long been empty, leaving half finished painting to dry, leaving only Clary and Chelsea alone to focus, so when the door opened, Chelsea was left wondering if this was another late enroller.

Sam surveyed the room and counted above twenty work stations, complete with a stool, easel, another stool with different colors of paints cans and containers clustered on it and canvases with half paintings of fruit.

"Um-excuse me. Is Clary done? Mrs Allen sent me to escort Clary back," Sam said as he spotted Clary on a stool.

Chelsea didn't think much of it as she dismissed Clary, at some point during the lesson, she thought her patience would snap but she pulled through by God's grace.

"Bye Miss Chelsea." Clary waved back at the room before following Sam out the door.

Sam inspected Clary's face as they walked past the cabins. She had a purple smudge on her arm, just above her wrist but he didn't say anything. It felt like it belonged on her, and he laughed at that thought. Clary, the painter.

"What's so funny?" Clary asked, turning her attention to the sound. Over the weeks, she got better at identifying people with sounds. Like the sound of her dad's footsteps when he's happy or the shy shuffling of feet whenever people are avoiding her. It's the tiny details that she holds on to. Her heart swells with pride whenever she identifies who's there before they speak.

"Nothing, just the thought of my Clary becoming a world class painter," Sam said and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. He watched her smile dip. "I don't think I can be that person."

"Don't doubt yourself before you get there," He said to assure her of the possibilities. "Maybe I can get there, the day I finally find the canvas," Clary answered, which made Sam laugh.

"Seriously, you can't find the canvas."

"Couldn't find the brush too. Although I made fast progress with the paint cans...after spilling a can or two."

People watched the pair as they walked by. They were headed to the mess hall for lunch and to also meet up with the others.

"You've got to be kidding me." Sam said wiping tears from his eyes. "Nope, I'm not. It was a very...eventful class. When you came in, my canvas had just been replaced because I put a hand through the last one." Sam burst into laughter again, enjoying the tales from Clary's art class.

"It's not that funny y'know. I was so embarrassed. I felt like everyone was looking at me. Thank God they all left before I wrecked my canvas." Clary said, reremembering Chelsea's laughing too.

"Alright, alright. But you had to admit, it's pretty funny," Sam said as they reached the entrance of the mess hall.
"It kinda was," Clary replied with a giggle.

"You know what, I'm sure you could do it." Sam said to Clary and pushed the door open.

That's what Clary thought too, but after a two week's worth of classes, she still found it hard to find the canvas. Some days she couldn't even remember which colour was which or where the brush can is. She thought she mastered the brushes but boy was she wrong.

One day particularly, she caused a massive mess and in the course of cleaning it up, she wrecked another person's work space. Even with Chelsea's consoling, she left class that day with tears in her eyes and she promised herself never to pick up a paint brush ever again.

Having a night of tossing and turning, Clary sat on her bed. Sleep had deserted her, leaving her with waves and waves of tiredness.

She even resorted to praying for sleep because she hadn't been getting plenty even at day time. Knowing the reason for her insomnia, she opted for taking a midnight stroll.

Picking up her cane from the floor, she gracefully slid out of the room she shared with Ronnie and Cassie.

The night's air brought calmness to her mind as she took the very familiar path to the lake. Sitting down, she let her tears flow.

"I'm sorry daddy. I tried but... I failed. I failed." All that answered her was the breeze from the lake. "Now that I need to hear your calming voice, I hear nothing. How ironic...So this is how it feels to have your dreams crushed." She started laughing, till her laughter turned to heavy sobs. Letting her tears drown her sorrow, letting the tears she had been holding in fall, it made her feel better a little bit about her predicament.

When her sobs came to a silent tears, she looked up into the twinkling night sky. "W-what am I to do with my life now?! You said I should take a chance. I tried out painting and came out an utter failure. You know what, I'm not even going to try anymore. You hear me, I'm not going to try anymore!"

Giving up isn't going to solve the problem, Clarissa.

"What do you want me to do?! It's not working!" She looked to the heavens and wailed.

Take my eyes.

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard." She wiped her tears away. "Take your eyes." She scoffed.
"No offense dad, but I don't think that is even possible."

You do not know the half of what is possible Clarissa. For the depths of my ability is beyond the comprehension of mankind, or you.

Out of tears, Clary laid down on the lake side and watched the world go by, hoping for sleep to take over. "Even if I wanted to take your eyes. How do I do that?"

It's not about how, it's about if you would want it hard enough.

Clary thought about this for a while. At this point she had nothing to lose. Her parents are already thinking of things she could do with her life. After  camp she really had nothing to do. All her friends may or may not be heading off to college, leaving her in Valley View to greater heights.

With a deep breath, she replied. "Well,  I have nothing to lose but everything to gain. I'm willing. Give me your eyes if...that is want me to take."

Good choice Clarissa. Eyes haven't seen, ears haven't heard, neither has it come into the heart of man what I have for you.

"I believe you Father, but what I don't understand is how giving me your eyes would help me. You don't actually have human eyes to give, do you? Do you want to heal my eyes?" Clary voiced her question to the wind, knowing fully well it would reach her Father in heaven.

No.

Clary heart sunk into her chest. She thought that this was the answer to her prayers. But turns out she was wrong.

But...

"But?! Why the but?" Clary sat up with a jolt. "There just had to be a 'but'" Clary said with a roll of her eyes.

Don't be a pessimist. All you have to do is follow my lead, something I know you're good at.

Clary gave the night a beautiful smile.
"Let's see what you've got."

I've found out that one of hardest things to do is to obedient to the leading of the Spirit. I know it's hard but if only we just listen. The plans He has for us are far greater than any plan you make.

All He requires from us is obedience.

Stay Yielding.
Toinpre.