"But what does it all mean?" the elderly gentleman asked.

"You know, I'm not really sure myself!" came the reply. "Just a product of a moment's inspiration I suppose."

"Wow! That must have been some moment!" admired the observer of the fantastical painting.

"Ha! Interested?" asked the creator.

"Actually, I am. But I would really like to know what it means. I'll tell you what...I'm staying in town for a few days. I'll stop back by before I leave and make my decision."

The artist sighed as he said, "No problem. I'm sure it'll still be here."

The fact of the matter was that the artist did not really know if the painting would be there in a few days, or even tomorrow for that matter. For the past two weeks, everyone who had come to the gallery had shown a keen interest in the painting. Several critics and dealers had even promised to return to purchase the painting, just as this last elderly gentleman had. The second commonality between the various patrons was that they all expressed a strong desire to know what it meant. However, the artist simply could not even understand its meaning himself. In fact, he had not even given it a title. And so the painting sat on the wall, garnished by a little golden plaque saying "Untitled," awaiting a buyer, the first of which was scheduled to return tomorrow.

The next morning, the artist was surprised to find that Robert, one of the local homeless men, was waiting for him to open the gallery.

"Hello, Robert. Are you ok?"

"Yes, Curt. I just thought that I might do my monthly visit a little early today! Got any new additions?"

Robert and Curt had become great friends over many a cup of coffee and conversations about the arts, especially painting.

"Actually, I do have a couple," Curt beamed.

"Excellent. Can't wait!" Robert replied enthusiastically.

The two men entered the gallery, and Robert began to peruse through the paintings. The man made his way rather quickly only stopping here and there for a little glance or two. However, Robert eventually found himself before the beloved "Untitled," and here he stood transfixed. A whole hour later, Robert eventually broke the silence.

"Curt, tell me about this one."

"Oh, there's not much to tell," shrugged the artist.

"Oh, but there is, Curt. There is a great deal of meaning here."

Curt was curious to know what meaning this longtime friend and critic found in a work labeled "Untitled."

"It's a portrait really. It's me. Yeah, I see it. Here, look! See, it's me when I feel crappy, and I haven't had anything to eat, and the cops make me move again. Look, over here! It's me when I go over to Sal's kitchen, and he lets me wash a couple dishes in return for the daily special. And here...yeah, that's the time I cursed out my father for abusing me and mom. I wanted to kill him...Now over here, that's when I feel like stealing some bread or something from Ralphs. Up there...boy, that's when the church closed its doors on me. Wasn't welcome there...no sir! This...this is how I felt when my daughter was born. Have any kids, Curt? No? Well, you should some day! Oh, yeah, and this down here...well that's how I felt when my daughter died and my wife left me. Damn it!"

The room was silent for a minute or so while tears streamed down Robert's face. Eventually, he continued.

"And this darkness around the outside...that's the big empty hole in my soul that's always longing, always looking, searching...But that's not all of it...Nope...there's these here two children in the middle. Yeah, the boy pushing the girl on the swing. That's me at my best. Yes, something good has to be at the center of it all. God is there somewhere huh, Curt?"

"Y...yeah..." stammered the artist.

He was shocked. He did not know what to say. Robert had spoken great truth. And now as Curt looked at his creation, it was as though he was looking into a mirror. There lay his whole life before him - the good, the bad, the happy, and the sad. It was all there in a chilling, but very fulfilling way. Here, the emotional abuse; there, Christmases with his cousins. In this corner was the pressure to be the perfect son; in that, narcissism and indifference. Over to one side was anger and resentment toward his father; and on the opposite side was his unconditional love for a friend. But there amidst it all, there in the center was God. Robert was right, God was there somewhere. Robert was correct; it was a portrait - a self portrait.

"What do you think?" inquired Robert.

After a moment's silence, Curt softly replied, "My friend, thank you. Thank you for helping me see what I could not...did not want to see. Thank you for helping me see with my heart and not just my head."

"No, Curt. Thank you for telling your story. No, wait...for telling our story!"

The next few days passed uneventfully. A few tourists passed through the gallery, but none of the promised buyers ever returned. Truth be told, none of those "buyers" ever really wanted the painting. Like Robert, they too were captivated by its mirror-like properties. Each viewer saw his or her life pass before their eyes. However, the painting scared them. How could life be so good and yet so terrible? The critics were confused. How could this painting be so accepting of the evils in life? The dealers were dumbfounded. Moreover, how could such a life be accepted by God? For indeed, every observer found God to be at the center of it all. One could not identify with this painting. To do so would be an infraction of the moral code. Oh, no, one had too much to lose: a professional reputation, upstanding citizen awards, marital bliss, graduate studies, friendships, etc. All these things depended on that favorite phrase promoted by society: "I'm fine. How are you?" No depth, just quick dismissal. And so that painting called "The Portrait" remained on the wall.

The end of the week came and found Curt getting ready to close the gallery for the weekend. A few minutes before closing time, Curt heard the "customer-now-entering" bell chime. Curt looked up and was surprised to see the elderly gentleman from earlier in the week walk up to the main counter.

"Hello, my friend! It seems I made it just in time!" greeted the man.

"Yes, but don't worry. Feel free to take your time. I'm in no hurry." Curt wondered if he was about to make a sale.

The man walked over to "The Portrait" and quietly stared.

"I see you named the piece. May I ask why?"

"Well, it's a long story, but let's just say a friend helped open my eyes to its meaning." Curt smiled as he said this.

"Ah, yes, one of the best ways I know how!" the elderly man returned. "It's a proper title. One I, myself, would have chosen...It's a hard meaning - painful I mean. I know I've felt its pain many times. But it is goodness itself at the same time. Confusing...yup. Interesting, ultimately fulfilling...If you're open to it, huh?"

"But I thought you didn't understand..." Curt never finished his sentence for at that moment the gentleman silenced him with a peaceful smile unlike any other.

"Friend, I have no money with which to purchase this masterpiece. Its worth would be far too great even if I did. I came back because I had to look at it one last time. I truly do love it very much. Curt, listen to its truth. Share its truth with others, and listen to the truth it brings in return. Although many haven't, there will be those who will come to accept and love its truth...perhaps even as much as I do."

Curt was silent as the man turned to walk out the door.

Holding the door ajar, the man turned and said, "That's the Father there in the middle, right?"

Curt smiled.

"Yes, I thought I recognized him. You know...you're right...Robert was right...tell him he was right. I am always there somewhere...always in the middle..."

The door closed, the "customer-now-leaving" bell chimed, and Curt suddenly shook himself from his silent stupor. He ran outside to stop the man, but as he turned the corner, Curt ran into Robert and knocked him over. Curt looked around, but the elderly gentleman was nowhere to be found.

Curt helped Robert up and apologized. "Robert, you know...you were right. He always is there somewhere. God is always there."

Robert nodded and smiled.