“It looks like…heaven…in here,” says the painter in his touch of Uganda mellow voice, musing from his ladder height while smoothing on what feels like clouds of white. Clean, bright for the beadboard… palest of eggshell that carries but a hint of buttercup in the right light, for upper lengths and ceiling. Cabinets…counters… even the floor (at that time)… all white.
I smile at his description. Loving the sing-song lilt in the way he says it.
The way he has picked out my exact intent for this room in his observation. The color of…peace.
A thin line of cornflower blue runs like a tea-towel stripe through the new white subway tile backsplash, the only colorburst right now. He can’t yet imagine the touches of blue and green I will add into this frothy, airy place. Nor the wooden planks to warm my floors…
But mmm… I can.
He sees the first.
I am seeing the… last… and yet to come.
And on today’s shiny rain and dark cloud-washed morning, brushing sleep away from my lashes, coming round the corner of my dining room to greet the day, I find myself…
stepping into heaven’s light pouring benediction through…
…dazzled by ethereal blessing…
Struck by how it looks so like my pen & ink drawing of In the Morning Room!
“Surely the camera can’t pick this up, lens directly into the light,” I think…
But I give it a try.
And sit back with wonder as I see just how much more that camera saw…
He is here.
© Pam Depoyan
New International Version (NIV)
3 In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you
and wait expectantly.
(Joining to Five Minute Friday word prompt of ‘last’)