Better and Brighter

One of the things my husband, Herb, and I love about living in the country is watching the birds in our yard. Each year we put something new out there to pretty it up. "How about a birdbath?" Herb said recently. "I'll pick one out and you can work your magic on it."

My magic was painting. Especially angel figurines I'd pick up from thrift stores and redo with acrylic paints to make lovely pieces to add to our collection. Ceramic, plastic, brass, wood—if you could paint it, I'd figure out a way to make it better and brighter and as good as new. Angels were my favorite, but I'd paint anything.

I got to work on the birdbath Herb brought home. It was going to be a challenge—the biggest thing I'd ever painted. Lord, help me with this, I thought as I prepared my palette and brushes.

Something took over my hands. The colors seemed to choose themselves, shapes formed, and I didn't feel the least bit pooped after a whole day's work. I stepped back to admire my creation: the hydrangea, pussy willows, ferns and grasses I'd painted, hoping to attract the birds. I tilted my head. Could it be? Somehow everything fit together to make an abstract-looking angel. I saw it. Would anyone else?

My husband came out to the yard. "Well, look at that angel," he said. "Surely the birds will come to her. Good thinking." But I couldn't take all of the credit. It had to be divine inspiration. I wasn't the only one making things better and brighter and as good as new.