I talk to God every night. He never talks back. Sometimes I think He is listening but sometimes I wonder if His ears are full of wax.

I have discussed this issue with my Papa. Papa says that I am wrong to think that God should speak to me. He says that God only speaks through Rabbi’s and that I should go to Synagogue on a more frequent basis.

Synagogue is boring. Those rusty old men who sit around with their noses up in the air as if they are better than  me because they are men and I am merely a young lady. Am I to learn about God from such arrogance?

They prance around as if they are demi-gods, lauding their righteousness.

If they knew my thoughts about my love they would be tempted to pick up stones and stone me. My thoughts about Mr. Amazing are not pure, they are full of lust, but at least I am honest.

I digress though. This feeling that I have for my love is one of desperation. How can desperation be love? It leaves me weak and fearful.

If God is involved should I not feel peace? Why do I fear that he will never be mine? Why does he have this effect on me?

He is gone now and I can not rest. I have a fitful sleep. In the day my mind is consumed by him.

I must go paint, that is the only thing which keeps my mind occupied, other than him. I can not paint him anymore. I already have scads of sketches and paintings of him.

I must paint a bird today.  I have decided to capture the Wall Creeper in flight.

It seems as if  God was a bit undecided when forming this bird. The bird is a lovely  dusky gray with a sliver of crimson riding on its wings. When it takes flight the crimson explodes from the base of the wing. The crimson is breath taking in its explosion, only more so because at the end of the wing there is black with white polka dots for contrast. What a beauty this creation is, such a masterpiece, created by God.

This bird leads me to believe that the Rabbi’s do not even touch the hem of God’s creativity with their stuffiness. I hope I may feel His presence as I am painting today.

As soon as my hand touches my brush I feel Him coursing through me.