What was this heaviness? What was this sadness? Why did it drag my heart down? Why was it so hard to shake it off? What was the game plan going forward?
It was the week of the last wound clinic appointment. Every reason to be joyful. The nurse proclaimed my chronic wound had healed completely!!! The epithelial cells had formed a layer closing the gap. 100%!!! The ordeal which started last March was over. Friends texted me their relief. My heart was a heavy rock. Help me, Jesus. Get me out of this slump. Release gratitude back in my attitude.
Being helpful, the nurse practitioner listened to my grief. Then she heard it turn into a tale of active pursuit -- busy creating large outdoors -- the satisfaction and wonder of it all -- and saw the increased excitement in my voice. Her eyes glittered and Tanya Land noted:
"That painting brings joy to you SAYS something ABOUT YOU. I would FOCUS on that INSTEAD."
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In the meantime, more varnishing of loose smaller works. I felt I was being led by the Lord to send these unframed works on to cousins distant. A night time scene of my neighbor's property from 2002. His name came to mind. I stepped out to gift him and Bill Smith opened up with the history of that property. How that house had been one hundred years old. It once housed Mexicans, the Olvera family. How the streets used to be dirt. And how, when he was 16 years old, the house he grew up in on North Folgers beside the Methodist Church was moved across town to North Ely Street, neighboring that corner house. The wife of the lawnmower repair man walked in and was glad to take the prized scene back home.
The tomatoes Don Mason raised in his backyard. I walked across my lawn and pushed his doorbell, his name had also been given. Inside, warm, he held the piece with both hands, staring, regarding, remembering. I was clearing my shelves. I want him to have this. We chat. At the close he shakes my hand. The gift let go, it remains.
Mailing off panels and getting cards of kindness in return took off the edge. Another name came to mind. The firelight falling on the silhouette group of high school students, arms raised in a hallway of lockers. Erin Dotson met me by my car in the Mulch's grocery parking lot. She was thinking about her youth group at church. How much God is active in teenage lives. Goodbye fire painting. Jesus, your personal presence alive among your adolescent disciples. The overflow going out, his excellence, his goodness and mercy and delight filling my cup. Eases the loss, lightens the load, lifts my eyes.
A new large work speaks to me from across the room. How did that scene come together like it did? Cadminum Red Light has entered my palette, squeezed onto my palette next to the orange, blue, green, white, and yellow. His treasure lifts me. Enormous on our living room wall. It astounds me. So bold. With depth. My spirit soars. A beacon of your aid manifested here. Yessssss!
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