I get lost here.
Little corner room, back of the house, I’ve not called it “studio”.
Most likely won’t ever.
No prompting or edit, just doing and done. I begin, am absorbed and oblivious and I continue.
I finish, am uplifted, content.
Emptying of mind, freeing up of space cluttered by my strict measure of certain or not so.
My fingers in the paint, open tubes and little jars, chalky smooth or shiny pastel.
Scattered about my desk, dark wood and spackled color.
Sit, stand, walk away and come back.
It’s a joyous abandonment.
The rare place I give myself grace.
No restraints, time or talent up for dispute.
Music in the corner slinkin’ out into the room and someone might peek in to say hello or goodbye, but only for a minute.
My sacred spot, they’re careful in their kind intrusion.
My solace, unruffled by my perception of demand.
I coat the canvas in neutral hue, wait patiently and decide.
Time to understand, to listen in the quiet enough to hear.
Place that feels so true I wonder if there’s need of disclaimer:
No worries, I’m fine, just talking to myself and speaking real clear and true. Look away if you might be so moved or unmoved by “too much Lisa”.
Sometimes, I know, my words seem broken. The times I remember grace, abandon the yearn for glory. The grace too true not to be brave.
Then, I paint and again, I can pray the prayer of surrender…to truly, truly finally grasp what it means to let go, let be, let being.
Let my words and my story grow from an abandoned mind, my words flow like color.
A shadow here, bright light there, layers thick and tactile, real because of grace… “The Colors of my Bible”.
I understand now, the reason time passes me by, I dip my feet in the pool of contentment and then I rest in the place where I go to paint.
The place that is easy, the grace given me by me, my place of grace.
Reminding me of grace, amazing it is, that place I remember grace.
“For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.”
John 1:16 ESV