Life in a picture frame

I visited Jane yesterday, stepping carefully over oxygen tubes and scattered papers in response to her call to please come by, she had a painting to give me. She worked with oils 25 years ago, and her days closing in like her lungs, wanted me to have this Hopi Indian Woman canvas. Her only son didn’t want it.

“Promise me you’ll put it in a fancy frame.”

Of course I will, I assured her with all true grace mixed with deep knowing. It’s not all together attractive, but it’s like her very soul that she wants well remembered after she’s gone. “Don’t you love the deep purples and blues?” she wanted to know.

Don’t I want my life put up in a fancy frame, too, and hope my children would think it beautiful?

This entry was posted in family life. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Life in a picture frame

  1. becky jerdee says:

    Oh, this picture raises a lump in my throat. It’s so grievous…watching someone die while she hands out the treasures of her life…such a human thing to do. I’m hoping I have my house in order before I can’t keep order anymore…leaving nothing in my wake but easy things to give to Goodwill.

    Thanks for stopping by…I really appreciated your comment.

  2. tipper says:

    Yes-and we all would want our life in that frame too.

  3. Jen says:

    Becky, I really like your idea of getting the house in order; I hope to be consistently working on that.

    Tipper, if I had time I would have written so much more of this story, there is a message of having a life well-lived, full of grace and forgiveness. Her son is not completely ill-willed here for not wanting this picture; there are some deep murky waters between mother and son, and I urged Jane at the end of this visit to extend forgiveness and release bitterness over many real and imagined offenses. The Hopi Indian woman canvas is sitting atop the piano in this room where I’m typing, to remind me.

  4. Pingback:   Waiting for the Moving of the Waters

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *