She peers into my soul…amber angel perched upon the easel in my art room.
Her eyes follow me around the room. Whether I sit or stand, she gazes deep into my being, calling forth the artist in me. Calling me to dare, to discover, to delight in all the good that blossoms in my life.
When I see a rose bloom, I remember that day when I was a youthful missionary on a stroll through the Dutch countryside. In my mind, I saw a beautiful rose growing up and out of a thorny branch. The rose opened…trusting, vulnerable, eager to drink in the sunshine.
Your becoming a woman will be like the blossoming of a beautiful rose, growing among thorns, watered with your tears.
These words formed in my mind as a promise and a warning. And believe me, they sure have come true. There’s been lots of thorns, lots of tears and lots of growth.
Amber angel, I wonder whether you call to each one of us. Call us
I’m convinced the “cry” must nestle in between the grow and mature in order for us to blossom. And as we encounter life’s thorns, whether a difficult person or situation, our tears water our becoming.
In time, our life blossoms like a rose…large, full, with petals bowed back in humble surrender, center open to possibilities, tips reaching for the Son shine.
Amber angel, with golden swirls in your eyes and shoulders tinted with a color somewhere between yellow and orange, you speak to me through your longing, penetrating eyes. And I say “yes” to the future. “Yes” to the present. “Yes” to whatever it takes to blossom.