The Divine Parentage Of Flowers

My eyesight isn’t very good. My "soulsight," I hope, is better. I think it might be improving, as today I understood, for a moment, the inherent divinity of Family.

I was not instructed by my dear Father, not my Sister, not my Brother. It wasn’t my Priest or my Spiritual Director. It wasn’t my deeply loved husband or my dearly loved friends. It was paint.

The process of painting is my meditation. As I work out issues of color, hue, transparency, or translucency, other issues declare themselves to me.

"The Divine Parentage of Flowers," a mix of paint and paper, spoke to me of relationship. I understood, in an abstracted glimmer of grace, the human relationship to the Divine parent. Now my sister is not only Carol, but also Rose, Geranium, and Fig.

Garden and Gardener, we are related. As I wrap up the garden, stung by the edges of frost and Fall, I have no regret, only confidence. The garden like the gardener will go under covers for awhile, tended by divine promises and permissions.

Image and words by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

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