Pick Up a Paint Brush and Pray!

As I write, white primer covers me as much as it does the walls of my kitchen. I never have been a neat painter. It's almost as if I need to experience the paint as if I was the wall.

I began washing the walls at noon and it is now 1:30 AM. I didn't know I had so many muscles in my shoulders and back, but I feel alive and strangely rejuvenated by the manual labor exerted today. I feel calm and serene this early morning, and I am looking forward to adding color to the walls tomorrow. I chose an extremely powerful yellow. I will undoubtedly need sunglasses, but I wanted to shake up the color palette, maybe felt the need to brighten my soul and rejuvenate my spirit. Trust me, this yellow will do it!

As I munched on Papa John's pizza yet again this evening (you ought to try the spinach alfredo - It surprised me how tasty it was), I looked at the edges of my walls, etched in the first coat of primer and wondered if I would ever see progress. Then after a couple of slices of pizza and a whole pitcher of Crystal Light, I pulled up the proverbial sleeves and set to work in earnest. Six hours later, my now all white kitchen emerged from the rubble like a phoenix from the ashes. Maybe this renovation is symbolic of my own journey. A little less than a month ago, Julie was taking calls of fear and panic from me as I ran from my home to the local police station and away from a man so loaded up on alcohol that he seemed possessed - and I don't think that is far from the truth at all. Ozzy Osbourne sang a song called "Demon Alcohol" - It is truly an accurate account of what alcohol did to my husband, and his attach on me truly seemed demonic. Some day I might feel like putting that down in black and white so I can truly put the event to rest. Not now -- still too fresh in my mind. Suffice it to say that I am certain God was there with me that day.

I wonder if God ever feels the same way about us that I did about my kitchen today. I am amazed that he never gives up on us, that he just keeps on keepin' on. Maybe that is what I am learning from this project.

It seems as if painting the kitchen has been therapeutic in so many ways. My mind wanders with each new brush stroke. It is a chance to talk to God, and more importantly, listen to God. The peace and serenity I felt today was comforting. So I guess if I don't know how to talk to God, I just need to pick up a paintbrush!