I was frightened to the point of asking it to stop
My mind played tricks beyond I could understand
A pull to journey very far away without leaving
What I saw seemed fuzzy, it made no logical sense

So I thought to paint it, to flush it from my thoughts
and when I did there still was nearly nothing drawn
Except a notable turbulence that deeply drew me in
An invisible persistence that was not going to let go

I still had no clue of what I was supposed to see
If it was simply a dream, I think I could let it pass
So, I thought to pray so relief would come to me
When I did, I felt instead external feelings of grief

In prayer I begged of God to give me no more of this
Instead another scene came to mind and overtook
Much more dramatic, so deep my concern became
As what I felt in the dark was of the deepest remorse

I could not hold back, I had to speak of the unknown
to my trusted confessor of the seemingly seriousness
He said to step back, pray and look at what I saw
When I did, inside the painting, a hallway to a door

Behind that door a woman holding a child in a hospital
She grieved not of the child but what she could not have
She missed her husband who should now be with them
I could not believe it but I reached out to hold her hand

Together we prayed for health for the ones she loved
We both felt the presence, sure the wounds would heal
I turned to leave and knew immediately I was not done
As another scene intersected where I now needed to be


In the middle of the afternoon while working up a sweat in the yard I was stopped in my tracks by a sense of extreme fear.  As it slowly drifted away another one quickly took its place.  I tried to let it also pass but the gnawing would not stop. Days turned to a week and I finally realized I must paint what I felt. Even painting did not get rid of the turmoil.  I was not sure what to do so I shared what I had done so far with my confessor.  He suggested I place myself in prayer and see what I could see inside.

I placed the painting about 6 feet away and in prayer found myself behind a door with a mother and her child, one in emotional and the other physical pain.  The only thing I could think of was to pray with her for God’s mercy.  When I did I clearly felt I was only halfway done for what I was supposed to do. I had far more to learn of how to look outside of myself.

For further reflection: Diary of Saint Faustina