by Gloria Poole, RN, artist of Missouri and Georgia.Copyright.
Writing, drawing and painting
is how I redeem the time.
to overcome the sorrow,
of my life,
that's filled with
emotions scattered,
all around
like trash
that fell from
the trash truck.
Writing to redeem
my life
from the trash bin,
is a worthwhile endeavour,
. though hardly a lucrative one.
A writer I am,
. shaped and molded
. by the events of my life,
that were as
unmalleable as an
anvil and hammer
beating the stark metal.
into polished glitter.
When I can't sort
my thoughts into cohesive
words to put on paper,
I draw to focus
my mind on something.
Anything.
Anything that distracts me
from the utter sense
of a wasted life.
A wasted life.
It's very hard to admit,
that all the dreams of
making the world,
a better place,
. evaporated.
like soap bubbles in the wind.
A world where
babies are born alive,
and gardens are plentiful,
and people are happy.
Where laughter
. and good times,
. are the norm,
and a feeling of
safety in the
love of GOD
just naturally rises,
like the sun,
until it's bright, golden
and shiny;
and illuminating.
A world with peace
and calm,
where the tiniest,
most helpless child,
is considered
as important
as the greatest King.
That world doesn't exist.
Maybe it never will?
People like me
have tried for centuries
to make a difference,
. to reshape the world
into a paradise.
But alas!
The first paradise
. of Adam and Eve is gone forever.
The primeval yearning
for supernatural beauty
. and conquering the world.
have created travel tours,
and cruises,
and flights to the moon.
I can't do those things right now,
. and so I paint,
and I draw,
. and I write.
To somehow,
record my existence
on earth;
to say, "I was here,
and I did my best,
but my best
was not good enough.
in many ways.
Drawing and painting
is not thought-intensive.
In fact, it sort of
empties the mind
of thoughts.
To make room,
for the blank canvas,
. or sketch paper.
. to create something:
to paint a scene,
or an emotion,
or a person,
or a pretend person,
to create beauty,
in some form.
To make art,
or write words
that touch the souls
of others,
to communicate.
Also, primeval,
the need to touch
the outstretched hand
. of THE MASTER.
to feel the charge.
of electricity and power,
. flow from GOD,
and to His created creatures.
wi-fi is not new.
prayer to GOD
ascended thru the heavens,
. and back again,
the same way
electricity spurts
from the sky
in thunderstorms.
The supernatural
manifestation of
. The power of GOD,
that what humans
think on earth
is known to GOD
. in heaven.
I paint,
and draw
and write,
and therefore I know
. I exist.
My heart has been broken
so many times,
it's like shards of glass,
tiny fragments,
bits and pieces,
that's impossible
to put together again. What's amazing about that?
It's the human condition,
of being to GOD,
as a one year old is
to an adult;
And so we all:
humans,
and spend years
picking up the shards
of the brokenness.
But.
There is a GOD,
Only ONE.
JESUS said,
"I and my Father are ONE."
One GOD
Who put Himself
into the form of
a human baby .
to come to earth,
with a mission
in mind.
And HE grew in favor
with GOD and man,
and told the humans .
how to live.
What to believe .
Whom to believe, .
and that HE has
a heavenly home
waiting for all .
who accept
HIS offer.
So.
The moral of the story
is that
this world is transitory
sort of a temporary
existence.
In preparation
for the after-life.
I know my name .
is written
in GOD's Book of LIFE
and that what I do
on this earth
is recorded
in heaven also.
My words
justify me.
And hopefully.
they put
footprints of mine
all over the world,
to cause people to
ask themselves,
"What was I born to do?"
I draw,
and I paint,
to teach the gospel
to promote life,
to share the
gifts of THE SPIRIT
given to me.
And to calm
my raging soul,
and battered brain,
like salve .
to a wound.
Drawing,
painting, .
and writing,
are my "medicine". .
they hold me in life.
while GOD does HIS plan
for me.
