They were all artists that died without having received the worldly accolades they craved and even deserved.
I'm certain they spent sleepless nights at their craft and countless hours honing their skills only to be told that their work was worthless and less and than beautiful.
We look at their works now, paintings from Van Gogh, Monet and Vermeer, words from Kafka and Thoreau and Nocturnes that soar "Soli Deo Gloria" by Bach, and we wonder shocked how their gifts could have been overlooked.
Sometimes we miss the art that is right in front of us.
I'm sharing the whole story over at (in)courage's Bloom Book Club today.
Head on over and read the rest of the story and then come back to my little corner of the blog world and leave a comment sharing your take on "the real art of motherhood" to enter to win one of two signed copies of Emily P. Freeman's newest book A Million Little Ways.
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