With the Stroke of a Brush

Yep!  It was time for a change, so I took off the last couple of days so I could stay home and paint our bedroom.  No big chore (so I thought)- just a little 10x12 blah space.  What would it take?  A couple gallons of paint and what-- maybe a day of stroking the brush?  No big deal.

Think again!  What once was a fun, delightful day of creative invention, now became a day of living hell!  Paint dripping here, paint dripping there- actually paint dripping everywhere!  Up the ladder, down the ladder and then up the ladder again-- and again!  What's wrong with this dang roller?  Isn't the paint supposed to go on the wall?  Ugh!

Twenty-four hours later, 3 walls were painted, waiting for a second coat and every single muscle in my body was screaming and they were not saying nice things!!!  How could this happen?  This used to be fun!

So what's a mom to do?  I picked up my cell phone and called my son, the artist one.  Now, you may not know my youngest son but there was a time when I thought he was the next Michelangelo. From the little square houses he drew in first grade to the the fabulous masterpieces he creatively sketched in high school, there was no doubt- this kid had talent.  Surely he could put some paint on my wall (and keep it off the floor!) 

So I pick up my cell phone to make the call. 

"Jordan, what ya doing today?"

"Oh, I gotta pick my car up from the shop and then head to the gym.  You know the usual stuff."

"Well, how about helping your mom today?  I started painting my bedroom yesterday and honestly, I'm a hurting unit today."

"What mom?  I can't hear ya. You keep cutting out.  What?  Huh?"

The ever convenient static buzz in the fabulous, crazy world of technology.  Don't ya just love it! 

So I grit my teeth and climb back on to that ladder.  Lord help me.  I am not giving up!

Several strokes,drips and an hour later, my prayers are answered.  The front door opens and I swear it was like the second coming of Christ.  The trumpets sounded as a bright heavenly light was shining on the halo above my loving son's head!  "Jordo-- God bless you  child!"

So we went to work (or should I say, he went to work) and it was a wonderful time.  We laughed, we joked, we shared memories and he got paint on the wall!  I truly love my son and that on that day, I couldn't love him more.  Not only is he Michelangelo, he's a saint!  Love ya Jordo!


Today my bedroom is done and each time I open that bedroom door, I think of the memory- a mom and her son making fun out of work----and it all started with the stroke of a brush.

Now-- what about the living room?? :)