Painting the Sky




I painted one wall of my bedroom the blue of an Oklahoma sky. It’s a deep bright blue like a summer morning. 

Bluer than a baby boy’s first blanket, 
bluer than periwinkles, 
bluer than water.

It’s the blue of an Eastern blue bird, only bigger and grander.

The expanse of it always makes my heart feel joyful and close to God.

I painted the other walls the green of spring.  

The green of fern and hosta.
 The green of lily pads on a pond.


The green of the first daffodil shoots. The green of the oak trees’ first spring leaves.

The green of hyacinth leaves. 

The green of iris fronds. 

I added a quilt with the pink of calla lilies. 
The yellow of daffodils, 

A wonderful shade of orange,
 And soft pinks of hydrangea and peonies. 

 The white sheer curtains I chose were the white 
of a blooming fruit tree. 
 The sturdy white of dogwood blooms,

 They mysterious texture of early morning fog, 
and the bridal veil
 of Queen Anne’s Lace.

The doors and window sills we painted the glossy white 
of Easter lilies and the waxen white 
of a magnolia blossom.  

The room is full of sunlight and the soft tinkling song of windchimes blowing in a soft Breeze. 
It blooms and beams the life of a prairie meadow. 
It is a room of nature with wood, sky, 
grass, flowers, visions of butterflies, 
birds, and wisps of dragonflies. 
It is a place where I can feel at home
and at peace. 
It is a sensory haven, a physical refuge.
 But Jesus is my spiritual refuge.
 My helper in times of trouble. 
My comforter when I am grieved.
 He is my strength when my heart is weak 
And my courage ebbing. He is my refuge, a safe place. 
He brings me peace.






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