If I could paint

I'll let you in on a little secret. If I could have any other talent, aside from the ones that I have, I would want to be a painter. A miracle worker with the canvas and paints. I would express myself with my brush and right there in front of my face I would find my emotions in the unspeakable colors.

I imagine what I would paint about the different events in my life. What colors would I use and where would they go? Would it be beautiful? Maybe it would be messy. Perhaps both?

And so I wonder: If I could paint my mission, what would it look like?

I can see the naked paper.                                     I would start with faded pastels, slowly growing but hesitant. You can feel them desiring to grow but then stop-
        Then I would take my brush and bring in an abrupt darkness. The black night will swallow up the deep purple dusk I had created. Swirling and screaming --> enveloping light!
                                                                                                And then you see her.
                                                                                                Small and fragile. Her faceless face looking
                                                                                                up into the crystal rain. I'd paint
                                                                                                the silence
                                                                                                the darkness
                                                                                                the wonder
                                                                                                falling from the endless black and gray movement.
And then- nothing.                  Blank.                           A burden lifts.
       How do you paint something so divine?
I'd attempt by sketching discrete music notes. Just one- then two. And then before your eyes you'd see them MULTIPLY & EXPLODE into an endless sky of sacred stars. You'll feel them sing. I'll bring in the light in thin brush strokes.
       Bursting and laughing. They dance around each other.
You'll feel immense gratitude for the colors. Maybe you'll even cry the relief is so beautiful in contrast.
But --
before you're done being thankful you see a dark blue being confused with the rest. You follow the smudge
             d
             o
             w
             n
                the canvas.
                                    There she is again.
                                     It's her.
                                     Surrounded by what looks like a pile of rocks.
                                     Her head hangs.

A group of suits stands huddled
to the side, their backs turned to
the scene. But one is peering over his shoulder. Another
                                                                             looks to the sky.

    There are scratches through the thick paint. And still all of them- faceless.
                                                                                                                           To the side of it all I'll     
                                                                                                                          paint a solid black area.
                                                                                                                          But a little light will enter in
                                                                                                                          and you'll see the shadow
                                                                                                                          of a stone.
   It begins           d ing & climbing into what appears to be steps.
                          l
                        i
                      u
                    b

Your eyes lead UP the abstract rhythm.
The texture of the paint is as interesting as it is intricate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But this is where it stops.
I wait for the end.




But here's what I want to happen:



At the top of the steps you see it drop off.                         You begin to look down
but then you realize that's not the important                      place to look.
   
So you look up and see two angel wings flying.
                                                                                                  And it's her.
                                                                        In  the middle of them.
                                                                         attached to the god-given flight.
       and at the end of the tired canvas you see brilliance portrayed in glittering colors.
             the pink, yellow, and red practically illuminate the paper.

    And that's how the painting ends- with the beginning of a sunrise. And then the final realization hits. It's hard to tell at first because you're concentrating on the scene. You didn't notice the shape of the outline. But now you see that it's all been done on the shape of a hand, a palm. It's subtle but you can't deny it.
    And that's who I give my mission to. It's in His hands. Where it should be.

Always.