Scrabbling for spring and clinging to hope

Here's my latest: Robbie Robin. I'm scrabbling for a toehold on springtime, and it's a slippery slope for sure when there's yet more snow falling outside and the heat continues to blast. Goodness, what a tenacious winter.

(Robbie's for sale in my Etsy shop.)

Even if the weather had turned lovely, it would have been a rough few weeks. Not personally, thank goodness—but for friends, former neighbors, church family...

There have been a number of deaths. None of them were a total shock; all involved illness, sometimes a long, drawn-out illness. But as far as I can see, that doesn't make the loss easier.

Yet, while the memorial service I attended yesterday was sad, so sad, it was also uplifting. The one who'd left this earth was painfully young. A lifelong health struggle had finally worn her down. But the celebration of her life was joyful in spite of tears. She had lived well, changed people for the better, and she isn't "lost," the pastor reminded us. We know exactly where she is and Whom she is with. And that made it bearable, even when I hugged the young lady's mother, a strong woman who had suffered with and now mourned her only child.

I am very glad to have that hope. I am praying that if you don't have it, you'll stop reading right now and call out to Jesus, have a little tête-à-tête with Him. It's Holy Week. He bled and died for you and me, so we could have eternal life. What better time to invite Him in and make Him your own savior?

I can say with truth I've never regretted letting Jesus into my heart; I only regret that I didn't do it sooner.

I wish you peace, blessings, health. And warm sunshine!

Signs of spring

Here's the latest painting: a hoppity little fellow. Easter's approach always connotes the images of bunnies for me, probably for most of us. After wondering about the origins of the tradition, I read somewhere that Easter's pagan beginnings had a sharp focus on fertility. Heck, what's a better example of that than rabbits? Hence the "Easter Bunny." Weird. The savior of the world was raised from the dead, and we hide eggs (more fertility symbols) and give credit to a long-eared, madly breeding furball.

I have seen a few bunnies scrambling frantically in my evening headlights of late. Guess they're starting to get bored in those burrows, too.

Anyway. The painting is for sale in my Etsy shop.

I'll resume muttering at the stubborn snow now.

More fur

Here's the most recent commission: a lovely dog that went to its rightful owner yesterday. Now I am free to share her with you. Isn't she sweet?

What is it about animal eyes? I don't believe that animals have a soul that can be saved... and yet, their eyes are definitely soulful. Can something be "full of soul" but still lack one? The smartest animals I've known definitely have feelings, simple emotions, sensitive instincts that go well beyond their innate animal drives. We've all seen how they have loyalty to protect those who care for them. Are they capable of love? It would seem so, if you've ever come home to an animal that missed your presence and was happy to see you.

I suppose the jury is still out for me on this topic.

I did laugh out loud recently, though, when I witnessed our cat's latest trick. She has decided that she prefers the freshest water to drink, so she leaps lightly into the bath tub to steal any lingering drips from the faucet. That's not the trick, because a lot of cats do that; our last cat did the same thing. This kitty's trick is waiting for her turn in the bathroom.

We have only one bathroom, you see. (Yes, we dwell in the stone age.) Twice now, I've come out from having showered, and have found the cat sitting tidily, patiently on her gray haunches, a few inches from the doorway. The minute I open the door and emerge, the cat heads into the steamy room with much purpose and jumps into the tub. She doesn't scold me for lingering too long—at least, she hasn't done that yet. She can be rather smug and entitled, though; such an attitude from her wouldn't surprise me in the least.

Dog days of winter

The last two commissions I've painted have been dogs, beloved pets. (I forgot to post this one—it's been with its proper owner for a week or two now.) Shown here is my interpretation of a much-loved, now deceased collie named Petey.

I just finished the more recent pup yesterday, but the client hasn't seen it yet, so I'll keep it to myself until it's safely in her paws—I mean, in her hands.

If anyone out there wants a custom pet painting, I'm your girl! Just let me know. People surely do adore their fuzzy companions.