"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge." Psalm 19: 1-2
The painting of a pink peony portrays what the artist desired to say. Before brush was put to paper, this peony only existed in the imagination of the illustrator. Now it is framed there on my wall to remind me of my daughter, the artist. It is proof of her existence.
My biography, as told by God, is beautifully illustrated by the Author himself. I don't just hold the book in my lap, reading as a third party observer, rather I exist in this living tableau, excitingly involved as each page is freshly written. He and I together, as collaborators.
When time allows, I sometimes flip back over previous chapters to reread favorite portions. When I can't sleep at night, pictures from my childhood home, captioned with words of my mother, are absorbed like dog-eared pages. Then, there are dark, unabridged chapters I prefer were not included, but there they are, to illustrate what I looked like without Christ.
As each day unfolds, the Author may write in a new character so I keep my eyes peeled for the introduction. One day, on a walk to the park, a brilliant gold leaf gave me pause, so I picked it up feeling it may be a clue. With each step, I examined the intricate, delicate design of the leaf, praying to share its beauty with someone.
A busy woman with two dogs approached me, but she was not the one. Continuing on, I spied a gal with wavy hair on a bench beneath the boughs of a maple tree, bent over her phone. As I passed, she glanced up and I knew she was part of my story. We exchanged greetings, then I stepped forward with the gold leaf.
"Isn't this a thing of beauty?" I began. "That God would spend such time creating a simple lovely leaf..." These words developed into the next until at last, she and I joined hands in the sunshine and prayed over her needs. We met as strangers over a leaf, but it was not strange to the Author who knew the plot and whose illustrations completed the glorious scene.
His painting of a gold leaf was the proof of His existence that drew two people together beneath the canopy of His grace. And someday, when He pens the conclusion of my life, I hope to flip back through and see many such smiling faces as the gal on the bench.
Only the Author and Illustrator knows how many I may see when my story continues in the heavenly realms, the sequel I cannot wait to read.
"Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith..." Hebrews 12:2