Holly Leaves

Holly leaves. What do they represent? Christmas time, winter, cozy family gatherings… For me they speak on a much deeper level. My mom’s name is Holly. She passed away from cancer two years ago. That in itself will inspire many more blog posts but for now I want to express how her name and love for her Father influenced this painting. By writing this, I am finally taking that leap of faith that God has been whispering to me for years.

I have been haunted by her grave. So much so that I have not been to it since her first birthday she was gone, only a couple weeks after we put her in the ground. Every time I drive past the gravesite, I shove my eyes ahead and start up a mantra in my mind that won’t allow me to focus on what is there. If I get caught up in it, I think about how her embalmed body is right there. Just six feet below. If I allow myself, I can envision frantically digging a hole with my bare hands and ripping her out of there. And if I do that, she will be alive again. But worst of all in my mind is by acknowledging that that grave is real, going to it, SEEING it, I am saying she is dead.

Many weeks ago, I realized how much fear I was living in and not trusting God to take care of me. Through many conversations with my husband and prayers to the Lord, I decided to start thinking about taking that leap of faith. I decided that I would go to the store with the intention of buying flowers. With the intention of leaving them at her headstone. With the intention of casting all my fears up to God and leaving them at that grave.

A couple days before her birthday in December, my dad called me and said, “I went to the store and bought holly leaves. If you want, you can take them. Up to you.” This conversation felt like the biggest duh moment from God. At that moment I felt Him smiling upon me and saying, “here’s your answer.” I took those holly leaves and on December 15th, I went to my mom’s grave. The first time in two years. My husband was with me and he helped me place the leaves on the ground, admire her headstone (that I hadn’t seen before), and let ourselves feel the peace in that place. I looked at the compact dirt and grass beneath my feet. The last time I was here, it was a muddy pool of water. A slap in the face to what we just lost. But now, the space radiated comfort and God’s presence. I felt the need to pray like no other time before. I closed my eyes and thanked God for his love. His love for me and for ALL of us. But I also thanked Him for my mom. I thanked Him for the 22 years I lived with her. And I thanked Him for the greatest blessing and gift of all: that she was now with HIM. And one day soon, we will all be with her in the greatest place we can be. I lift my eyes up to you Lord and rejoice in the day when I can officially call Heaven my home. All of that being said, as I was holding those holly leaves in the car and at the grave, I felt the Holy Spirit rushing through me saying, “paint.”

This post and these words are my way of glorifying my Father in Heaven. Ever since my mom left this physical plane for her heavenly home, I have wrestled with a sense of emptiness and loss of contact with the Lord. I kept asking God, how can I serve you? How can I dedicate my life to you? Over this Christmas season the answer was given to me. My art is my way of worship. I feel the Holy Spirit through my thoughts and my brushstrokes.

Every time I feel the Holy Spirit within me, I cry. EVERY single time. This painting was no different. As I was singing praises to God and letting my paint brush do it’s magic, I had tears running down my face. In all the years that I have been painting, it has never felt like this. The skill that so easily came to my hands and the JOY that filled my entire being. The song that I was listening to and singing along with was “Go Tell It On The Mountain.” Father, it would be my greatest pleasure in life to “go tell it on the mountain, that JESUS CHRIST is BORN!”

God has given me a great gift. I am going to use my hands and spirit to create, and my mind to spread His message. The message of God’s never ending love for US. And again, there are tears in my eyes because the Holy Spirit is with me. He is with me as I lay down my fears and embrace my calling. I am a warrior of God.