Painting

Pop and I spent most of the day (and some of the night) Friday painting the living room of the new home. We chose the same mocha color we had used for the living room in Florida. We find it a soothing, relaxing color that really sets off the artwork well. We didn't know if it would be too dark here, but find there is actually more light in our Maryland living room than in the Florida house. The white molding at the ceilings and around the windows and door makes a nice contrast, too.

At some point in the afternoon I noticed my right hand was beginning to cramp, but I didn't feel tired and I had been painting at a steady rate with no interruptions!! , when I began to ask myself "Why do we paint, anyway?" Certainly there is reason to finish the interior walls of any home to offer security and insulation from heat and cold. A finish coat of paint to protect the surface of the walls from grease and dirt makes sense. But why had we chosen to devote an entire day, with all the aches and pains of painting in our dotage, to recoat walls that were in generally fine condition? Were we justified in our investment of time, energy and financial resources?

A home is a small world of safety and comfort. The family is blessed by surroundings that calm. Looking at the world God designed we see He selected colors that relax, sooth and calm. The greens and browns of the landscape are easy on our eyes. What a relief that the sky is ordinarily blue and not a shocking shade of red. And yet, there are remarkable accents in the world around us, too. I saw the flash of a goldfinch in the yard yesterday. The first daffodils and tulips of the Spring overwhelm us with their beauty. God could have limited Himself to a contrast of blacks and whites but instead chose to use an extensive palate to decorate the world.

Not everyone is going to choose "dull brown", as we have done. Some will be content with their favorite shade of white. Others will be bold enough for orange or purple walls. But color is one tool we have been granted by the Creator to re-create, on a small scale, the world He has entrusted to us.

Palm Tree in a Hurricane

"Palm Tree in a Hurricane"
Original artwork by Jesse
2005

Inner Landscape

As I get older, I'm more and more inclined to suspect that each of us has an ideal internal landscape. This is the pattern [the sights, the sounds, smells, even feel (perhaps imprinted while we were children)], that defines for each of us what climate, topography, colors, angle of light, style of architecture, fragrances, and other features create our ideal environment. Perhaps it is shaped through the places we have lived or visited.

Never was this idea of an inner landscape such a strong impression to me than this summer at my cousins' family reunion in the Adirondacks. It seemed like home to me there. I did not grow up in that house, nor in that neighborhood, except for the several weeks we spent camping in that area when I was young. But the shape of the hills (which seemed more mountainous before I saw the Rockies), the angle of the summer light, the smell of the trees--which were of a familiar kind, the presence of sparkling lake and river water, all contributed to a sense of comfort. My childhood home and surrounding neighborhood in New Jersey had many of the same features.

Now I realize there were other factors at work this summer. Being there without the responsibility of children, meals, laundry, etc. was itself relaxing. Being with my favorite sister in the whole wide world, and my favorite cousins, all contributed to a stress-free weekend. But the sense of inner contentment from the surroundings was overwhelming, especially in contrast to the landscape of Florida.

I have been able to identify some of the essential features of my own inner landscape--rolling hills or low mountains, even high mountains, opposed to flat land where I feel exposed; water, especially rivers or streams, followed by lakes, then ocean; trees, a mixture pine and deciduous--essential for autumn color, which is almost as good in its anticipation as in its reality; seasons, with the welcome cloudy days of winter; low-angled sunlight, dappled through leaves and sparkling off water, rather than harsh and direct; and architecture with some history (laughable by European standards, I realize). All of these combine to give me a feeling of safety, comfort and rest.

I wonder if people who have lived in one place all their lives even realize they have an inner landscape. Some may have been born into a landscape that doesn't suit them and are restless until they find it. I'd be curious to know from my children, born and raised in a variety of landscapes, which one feels most like home to each of them.