Last week, I had white paint on my arm and a family friend that I don’t see very often asked, “Are you still painting?” Yes, last week it was a white shelf for our basement. This week it was our front door.

I paint when the boys nap or in the evening when they are asleep. I find these ‘down times’ are the hardest times to negotiate without my mom’s presence. The memories and sense of loss come often and quickly these last weeks.

I am still in the boat on the ocean of grief. The waves have been still and the sun on my face, but on the horizon I sense a storm brewing. One year ago was when I first started noticing mom wasn’t well. Last June, we were living with mom and dad as we renovated our house. They went to VCity to help my sister. They had a night away at The Hill spa, but all was not well with mom. She thought she had a bladder infection, but how could we know the path that we were heading down…

So I paint.

I ponder.

I remember.

I keep moving.

Living.

Trying to make sense of a senseless time.

Holding tight to my faith.

My brush.

My day.

One step at a time.

When we lived in Vtown, we had a great intentional friend and neighbour who was very present in our daily lives. Here she is:

Lizzie in her backyard with the boys.

She has the most beautiful blue door. It is stunning with a handmade stained glass window:

I decided our front door needed a pick me up colour. Blue it is!

Before I painted the door I drew hearts for our family and every visitor that comes through the ‘threshold’ wishing us all the fruit of God’s spirit: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control.

Love.

Joy.

Peace.

Patience.

Kindness.

Goodness.

Faithfulness.

Self-control.

I pray that all these qualities roll over and through each of us this day no matter the colour of our door.