After the recent storms, I've been thirsty to color my world with bright tones. Orange, purple, blue, yellow, peach... My soul, like a dried up sponge, thirsts to drink in lush green grass, soak up golden rays of sunshine, and soar free in bright blue skies. Color is everywhere... when I have eyes to see. The beauty of the wild yellow buttercups, bright red hibiscus, and pink pentas-- joyful flowers of hope, opening up to receive more light. I painted our wrought iron butterfly bench a bright cheery yellow, now a focal point near the front door.
Another colorful idea had an angel nudge. I moved this autumn iris painting to the living room above the bird's-eye maple desk.
Irises have always been a sign that I'm on the right path. In 2020, we had moved to this house in nature the day the lock-down began. A few days later, I found a stack of framed artwork tucked under the carport in the back of the garage. Sifting through the pictures, there it was. An iris painting -- glass pane missing, matted but the ornate frame in need of repair. None of that mattered-- The find had the brush of an angel in divine order and timing. I was in the right place at the right time. Wide-eyed, I gazed at the pastoral vista, rich with autumn hues, orange leaves scattered beneath the colorful trees, the call of distant foothills shrouded in a white haze, and best of all --a patch of wide-eyed purple irises in bloom on a hillside. Inspired, I propped it up against the workbench. I ignored the angel whispers to fix it up, and bring it into the house. (The artwork had been left behind my the previous owner.) But every trip out to the garage made me smile as I imagined myself in the picture, enjoying the crisp mountain air, colorful orange trees and flock of purple irises.
One day, I showed it to Elliot while out in the garage. He picked up the large ornate frame, two thick pieces hit the cement floor. Soon he was hammering away, pounding the two wood frames so hard, I thought it would split. All went well. A dab of liquid whiteout hid a small gash in the matting, and the forgotten irises were now a portrait of wholeness. When mounted on the wall, I could read the artist's name. For some reason I needed to know the name of the painting. Curious, an on-line search revealed that Jill S. McGannon had named her masterpiece Iris Sunrise!
Sunrise! A new day dawning... and not the sunset I'd perceived it to be.
So if you're feeling like you've been put out to pasture and you've outgrown your usefulness, the angels invite you to change your perception. At this time of celestial acceleration and global transformation, resurrection and restoration energy is ever-present. Get ready for a glorious new sunrise. The best is yet to be.
One day, I showed it to Elliot while out in the garage. He picked up the large ornate frame, two thick pieces hit the cement floor. Soon he was hammering away, pounding the two wood frames so hard, I thought it would split. All went well. A dab of liquid whiteout hid a small gash in the matting, and the forgotten irises were now a portrait of wholeness. When mounted on the wall, I could read the artist's name. For some reason I needed to know the name of the painting. Curious, an on-line search revealed that Jill S. McGannon had named her masterpiece Iris Sunrise!
Sunrise! A new day dawning... and not the sunset I'd perceived it to be.
So if you're feeling like you've been put out to pasture and you've outgrown your usefulness, the angels invite you to change your perception. At this time of celestial acceleration and global transformation, resurrection and restoration energy is ever-present. Get ready for a glorious new sunrise. The best is yet to be.
And, it's nice to know that iris was once the common word for a rainbow...
Remember you are never alone. You are in the presence of God's angels...
Love and peace,
Rae Karen
