Have you ever painted a sunset?

Some of my fondest memories of my youngest daughter are the times we used to paint the sunset. She was probably about three years old, and whenever we spotted a sunset, we’d pull out our imaginary paintbrushes and paint, together.

We’d make flourishes with our brushes, in oranges and yellows and reds. And then we would dab a bit of blue or purple or gold. Of course, we didn’t produce any colors, really. But we’d say them. “There’s a little purple!” And we’d brush. “Don’t miss the red.” And we’d brush again. It was almost as if we were chasing the colors together. And there was no dipping into paint on a palette. There was simply stroking with the brush. Sort of sketching with the colors that were already there.

I miss those days. When my little one would come get me “to paint the sunset.” Because I saw it differently when I painted it with her. She had a child’s eyes, artist eyes, that see and then jump in to be part of the scene. No preparation. No gathering supplies. And absolutely no reservation. All she needed was there to participate in the beauty she saw.

Participate in beauty. Perhaps that’s what we’re meant to do always. That’s Kingdom work, a royal calling of celestial proportions. To dab with paintbrushes always at hand. To distribute color already present. Or shade and blend what’s already been applied. To re-create what God has put before us.

Guess that makes me a re-creational artist. My medium is words. But somehow color words are insufficient to paint a sunset.

Perhaps one day I might overhear my daughter’s child say, “Mommy, look! Come paint the sunset.” And she will have spoken a memory, and a vision and a connection she doesn’t know is there. And my daughter and I will slip back into those days for a moment, and remember. No need to explain. Why use words when a smile and a nod will do?

God has so many ways of expressing Himself, doesn’t He?

About wlebolt

Life comes at you fast. I like to catch it and toss it back. Or toss it up to see where it lands. I do my best thinking when I'm moving. And my best writing when I am tapping my foot to a beat no one else hears. Kinesthetic to the core.

Posted on January 4, 2013, in Body, Life, Mind and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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