I asked a fellow blogger, “Why do some of us notice, while others stay insulated by self?”
Yes, work was a little more than overwhelming today; but, I took paintings to work with me and arrived at 8:00 (Write it down! she said, you made it in early) because a reporter asked to talk with me about my angels, my paintings, she’s noticed.
I consider it opportunity, I told her, an opportunity to have others feel comforted, maybe at rest.
An opportunity to tell of the opportunities God kept for me, brought me to, knew were there all along.
Regardless of notice or lull, I’ve been revived by found treasure, I’ll be painting.
So, I did my best to tell her why I paint, why I know for certain it’s a seed that finally found a bit of light to cause its growth.
We talked of life too, being without our fathers. Eventually resting in the love we gave them, no longer disputing who among us loved well or more.
Resigned in our relationships with our fathers.
An elderly man has been killed by a stranger for no reason at all.
I read that he loved his family, grandchildren, great-grands.
Randomly, he has left them.
A mama, pregnant with a daughter she’s at last decided to welcome was upset today,
Her four year old pouted when she sent him inside our homeless shelter to talk about grown up things with us.
Sometimes I forget about that grace thing I say…But, for grace I might have gone there.
I need reminding.
Thank you, Jesus for bringing me to reasons for pause, to notice others.
I struggled with explaining to a reporter why my angels have no faces.
I’d never been asked.
Told her they’re all around, waiting to be a comfort, the sway of the hip, the curve of a shoulder, the stance shaped by flow of gown.
They are hopeful comfort, almost like quiet observers interspersed in our life and are without wings because they’re
here among us, not above
You and I.
They wait to be noticed as they notice.
I worked hard today and tonight I will sleep, having texted my son “Sleep well, SYP’s (say your prayers)” and catching the dinging reply in which he says. “Thanks, you too.”
I’ll say them, my prayers for struggles I’ve not known, for things other than self…it’s a worthy discipline, you should consider its practice.
To pray for tragedies and people wrapped up in them, that we don’t know or understand,
And tho’ I’ll not know the ones I pray for, I am comforted in the assurance of being heard,
Like an angel without features, a quietly comforting presence.
We are all standing in need of prayers.
How can we not pray?
How can we not comfort?