Yesterday, my husband was hard at work like I'd never seen him before. A few years ago, I bought him a painting easel to fuel his creativity, however it has rarely been used since. But yesterday, he sat on his wooden, swivel stool for hours, creating in silence. I wanted to look over his shoulder. I wanted to ask him how it was going. I wanted to know what he was painting. But I stopped myself short, understanding how those seemingly harmless actions can hinder someone who is "on a roll." Late into the evening, he finally lifted the small, square canvas from the 3-legged easel and reluctantly handed it to me. "I painted this for you. You can name it," he said simply, unenthused, and waiting nervously for my reaction. I immediately smiled with admiration at the array of blended colors and texture. It was a true piece of art. A star so full of beaming light, it couldn't be contained by just one snap shot. Even the largest telescope in the world couldn