Tiny glimpses of light seep through the dismal colors of my life, spinning shades of grey into vibrant hues of blue and mauve. How do I see clearly past the fog of colors that now surround me? I am lost in their dizziness, and yet comforted by the fact that I am no longer alone. Questions abound, but answers sit softly nearby. What lies on the other side of me? Are there more colors, yet undiscovered, within?
I press closer to my Artist, feeling his paintbrush gently warm my cheek, wiping away a tear. A sudden fire of red burns out my pain, my past. In its place, a royal magenta, regal, joyous. Hope abounds. The sun touches a majestic pallet in His right hand, setting off a Technicolor shimmer. It surrounds me on every side.
Ah! So these are the possibilities for what I can become! There are fields of yellow and green yet unwalked in my journey. Can He paint me there? Will I follow the leading of His strokes with fire and passion or with gritted teeth? The choice is clearly my own.
Paint me there, great Artist, lover of my soul. You dwell in those fields among the lilies of purest white. Paint me into your arms, wrapped up in a sea of blue, glassy praise – an ocean of wonder. Paint the possibilities with tender, loving strokes.
I want to be where you are.
Paint me there.
