After witnessing the beauty of raindrops on turning leaves. Having watched as a dramatic cluster of cold, grey clouds gave way to cracks of bright orange evening sunbeams. I viewed the art of God's imagination with the usual awe. Later, when I have exhausted my energy and pulled up the blanket, and my head slowly sinks into my pillow, I drift off to God's studio where He hands me His paintbrush.
As my pulse beats slow and steady and my body goes into temporary shut down, I take God's paintbrush and create from what I know. People, memories, and my imagination converge on my nighttime canvas. With a stroke of the brush I display my fears and anxieties. I add details of humor and irony to give a more pleasant nature. Colors swirl to create a mix of reality and fantasy. Places are represented by the emotion I recall, not by the reality of their layout or location. Furiously I paint. Until God sees a finished masterpiece.
As morning breaks I hand back the paintbrush. If I am satisfied with my creation, it is framed and hung in my waking memory. If I am not, it is quickly painted over in a whitewash and left on the easel for another session. I can't help but wonder if my afterlife will begin in God's studio. A blank canvas to be created out of the memory of all that I will have learned and experienced in life. In the meantime, I will enjoy the creative process. And try to do justice as I study with the Master.
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