Painting In My Attic
May 24, 1999

Ginny wrote:

I took a little time over the weekend to write a special poem for you.  It is for the painter in you.


My attic is a wondrous place,
I go there when I can;
I climb the steps and close my door,
I free myself of man.

It's the highest point in my house,
To God, I'm closest there;
I can talk to Him in privacy,
Sing a hymn or say a prayer.

I often get my easel out,
My canvas and my brush;
A picture forms within my mind,
Of forests ... green and lush.

Sometimes I see a tiny bird,
Bathing in a morning's dew,
Or I see a day awakening,
When earth and sky are new.

I find myself excited,
As such scenes go through my mind,
So many lovely things to paint,
Too much for one lifetime.

And yet, up in my attic,
It seems that time stands still;
There is no clock or time piece,
My schedule's at my will.

To paint upon my canvas,
To make my colors true,
I lean upon God's artistry,
On His celestial view.

For who could paint a picture,
Without God's guiding Grace;
For every leaf and blade of grass,
Reveal His loving face.

Like artists through the ages,
Who have never worked alone,
God paints with me, in my attic,
It's like painting in God's home.

~ Written by Virginia (Ginny) Ellis ~

Ginny, what can I say?  This was the first time during my entire life that anyone had ever written a poem just for me.  When I received it, I was so happy that all I could do was cry (tears of happiness).  At the time you wrote this, we didn't know each other very well, but your words fit me perfectly.  I was so amazed by everything!

This poem is a true "treasure of my heart" and I will always be grateful that God has placed you in my path of life.  Thank you so very much.  I love you for just being you.

Ginny's Web Site

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