Tuesday, June 14, 2016

"The Morning He Left" 12x36, Oil on Canvas

"The Morning He Left" 12x36, Oil on Canvas

The morning Kendrick left Big Bend to get back to our daughters in Dallas was hard. I haven't been on my own very much. Least of all in a wilderness the size of Rhode Island. "This was good for me," I kept telling myself. But it would be 14 days until I saw him again. He was such a strength (and is) to me. ALL my insecurities came falling out of me the first night we camped and watched the beautiful sunset on the Sierra del Carmens...and then waited as one by one (thousands by thousands) of stars started their revelation. "Oh! How could I capture such beauty?" I remember saying this crying. He would just assure me that God brought me to Big Bend. He wouldn't leave me. And then walk and sit and sleep beside me as if his body were the heavy presence of God Himself.

When Kendrick left I felt like there was no curtain between me and God anymore. No chaperone. Would I fall into my fear or find His true hand? I drove out to the Chisos to watch the sunrise come over the ridge. Wiping tears from my goodbye with Kendrick. The sun took a bite out of the peak. The light was white and I thought I heard flapping for what seemed like minutes until I saw a black Raven come and stand beside me. He was the size of a house cat. I wasn't scared though. I remember saying, "Thank you God." Later I read that a group of Ravens is called an unkindness. But one? Maybe a kindness. Just a way that God says, "Are you ready? Trust me."

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