I’ve collected paintings from exhibits, shops and galleries. They are leaning strategically so as not to scratch the individual surfaces, against one wall.

One, I hung on the brick wall under the mantel.

Others I made stronger, brighter and more bold.

Yesterday or the day before, I thought of the word “sanctification”, how it sounds so much like procedure, like work, like reparation.

I edited one painting called “Joy”, made her softer and more satisfied with herself “where she is”, who she has become.

Change occurred and change was accepted.

She became more like her in the eyes of her maker than she was before.

How did she not know?

Sanctification, such a strict sounding word, sort of medicinal, prescriptive.

No wonder we strive.

We forget we’re all works in progress, canvases open to painting over,

being rethought.

Seeing ourselves as worthy as we are, as we were and even more worthy as we accept the edits as we grow.

As we see our very own souls growing easily, peaceably, openly…

Hands, hearts, eyes, souls and all.

Known and loved and led on.

“I took care of you in the wilderness, in that dry and thirsty land.”
‭‭Hosea‬ ‭13‬:‭5‬ ‭NLT‬‬