Dad wasn't very creative, but under the direction of a local artist who armed him with lessons, oils and a palette knife he left a legacy of three oil paintings. All three were painted on plain gypsum board framed with 3" decorative pine wood. No art collector would ever purchase, nor pay a handsome price. These paintings would never be displayed among the riches of an estate. They hold no value. They reveal the raw beauty and unskilled talent of an amateur painter.
An artist's work, no matter how insignificant is seen through the eyes of the beholder. I was very proud that dad had the courage to try his hand at something different. I felt drawn to one particular painting and was allowed to choose that one for my very own. Through my eyes, I saw something in my father's work that in years to come would reveal a hidden secret.
My dad died in 1980 and several years later, I took a course on inner healing by John and Paula Sandford. One part of the study was about fathers and daughters. Fathers play a vital role in the development of their daughters. Little girls are precious, a gift sent from God to comfort, delight, please and hold their father's heart spell bound. If a little girl is appreciated and loved by her father, this helps to build strength, confidence and sound character for when she becomes a woman.
Unfortunately, my dad was not aware of this concept. Many times, I would joyfully bound into his presence, only to be ignored and pushed away. There was a lot of disfunction in our home and it left the little girl in me wounded, with many scares and a great sense of loss.
Over the course of an entire weekend, from start to finish, Holy Spirit gently took me through a process of healing. He would bring a wound of hurt to my memory, I would pray, and weep, then forgiveness and healing. Over and over the process repeated itself. All I can say, 'when God starts something He will also finish it'.
Monday morning, I got into my vehicle and drove to work. The moment my car wheels turned right, leaving our driveway unto the highway and as I looked out of my windshield; a scene popped into my mind. I saw a man standing in a doorway. He was wearing black pants, a white shirt and looking through a glass door.
Immediately, I heard in my right ear the voice of Holy Spirit. "Your dad may not have been there for you, but, thank God your dad was there, when you needed him most"
When I was four, my dad took our family to visit some friends. Also visiting that day were another man and his wife. Something heavy, an evil pressure of wickedness drew me out of the apartment, pushing me down the long flight of stairs toward the glass door.
I remember sitting on the passenger seat of a black sedan and this man was talking to me and began touching me. I wasn't afraid. I was overwhelmed and knew something wasn't right. I looked out of the windshield and directly in front of me I could see the glass door. My dad was standing on the other side of the glass looking out. He was wearing black pants and a white shirt.
A flood of love came rushing into my heart as I realized my dad truly loved me. My dad heard the voice of Holy Spirit and protected me against the horrors of a terrible assault. And of all the things he would have ever given me this was the greatest.
The first thing I did when I arrived home that day was look at my painting. In the background are two huge green trees, one grey barn with a yellow roof, and a little red shed attached. Standing in the doorway of the barn is a man wearing black pants, not a white shirt but a light blue one.
Why God prompted my dad to painted this picture? I can only imagine. But, I now know why I was drawn to it.
I believe with all my heart, that God honours a father's love, and his stand for righteousness, even, when it is full of disfunction. Protecting his daughter against the attacks of the enemy all the days of her life.
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