Spiritual Non-Fiction posted November 13, 2008

This work has reached the exceptional level
An amazing vision I had last night.

Paint Me An Angel

by Janilou

Four years after her death I see my mother once more.

I stood before her in awe as she swept her hands across the sky, changing colors and shapes with each touch. Entire scenes sprang to life before my eyes. First, grass appeared, rippling in a warm summer breeze. Then pink and grey birds took shape, dipping and swaying through the mist beneath the rainbow.

A smile touched my face. She looks so healthy and young. "What are you doing, Mum?" I called out across the meadow.

Eyes sparkling, she danced across the grass toward me, her skirt twirling.

"I'm painting!"  

I pointed to the budding creation behind her. "Purple trees?"

Eyes shining, she nodded. "I like them that way."

"Why not?" I laughed and gazed across her landscape, watching as she drew a crystal clear brook between the rocks, and led it through the meadow like a mother coaxing a toddler to come out and play.  

I wanted to hug her, but I knew without asking it was impossible. The veil between us was invisible and impenetrable at the same time. This was a vision, a glimpse across the universe to a place I could not yet go.

"Are you happy?" 

"Oh, yes," she said, her face beaming with delight. "More than you can imagine."

She always loved to paint here on earth, but I guess she never imagined the canvas she'd be given in heaven.

The sweet fragrance of jasmine drifted across the air as I watched a cotton-tail bunny clean its whiskers.

"Mum, everything you paint comes to life!"

"Isn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed. "I never get lonely. I just paint you all here to keep me company." She tilted her head to one side. "You were right about Jesus forgiving me, by the way. I never thought it possible."

My heart danced, giddy with joy. Even as she looked at me, I saw acceptance, love and understanding in her eyes. "I love you," she said, and warmth filled my heart with its truth.

"I have to go." The vision was fading, even as I strained to hold the scene before me. 

I lay in bed, eyes open in the dark, watching the vortex close through the glittering stars. How much time had passed?  It seemed like just seconds since I'd heard that trusted voice take my hand and beckon me to follow. "Someone wants to talk to you," he'd said and I followed willingly through the veil.

Is it a coincidence I should have this 'vision' four years to the day that my mother passed over? Apart from a few disturbing dreams soon after her death, this has never happened before. My mother's talent on earth was awesome. I just never imagined how God would allow her to paint in heaven - no more still-life, but real life!

Whatever it was, it brought an incredible sense of peace. The Bible talks of a peace that passes understanding. 

Last night, a little girl found it, across the veil.


I have to rush out to an appointment, but wanted to get this posted for early feedback. Will correct errors when I return home. This is a true accounting of what happened to me about six this morning. I always called my mother, Mum, because she came from Australia. I have no idea what to make of it, but I loved every minute! :-)
PS. For Louise. Yes, Louise, it was.
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