Sunday's can be slow drip days, but for me they are delicious yet dangerous for the feisty artist in me. Remembering that the muse visits the moving hand, I try to keep my hand and heart at rest - like the way God did back in the Day. I try to mimic Him, well sort of, and rest and allow the majesty of the Sabbath to help me surrender to a holy down time.
Just today, I tried to nap and lounge only to feel a creative nudge from my Angelic Muse. I always know it's Her because she has such a kind voice and gentle touch. She's one fun angel and knows all about my bent for all things artful. So, tried hard to be good and slide onto my studio's rocker to obey God's mandate to rest on the Sabbath. There, near the chair was my sturdy easel with my latest not-yet-finished painting. "I'll just redo thepale sky," I whispered to my Golden Retriever, now nestled near my feet. I picked up my paint brush and twisted off the top to my crimson oil tube. That was the moment I had tried to resist. I hoped that heaven was looking the other way - at least for an hour or so. " Sorry God, I'll nap next week!"
