The Gallery

There is a quiet that comes after a long journey, after the knocking on doors and the turning away. In this painting, Mary has finally stopped. Her eyes are closed, her face bowed toward the child in her arms, and the whole room has gone still around them.

I painted the light coming from Him. The gold that wraps the baby spills onto her face and hands, while a small fire burns low in the hearth and a clay pitcher waits on the shelf. Ordinary things in an ordinary stable, holding the most extraordinary moment.

High in the corner, a single star pointing the way.

This is the peace I wish for every home this season. Not the absence of hard things, but the presence of Him in the middle of them.