There are seasons in life when the air feels heavy, when faith flickers more than it shines. Evening Primrose came out of one of those seasons.
In the painting, a woman is held within the wings of an angel not lifted out of the darkness but steadied right inside it. It’s about the kind of divine comfort that doesn’t whisk us away from pain, but sits beside us in it. The North Star hangs above her constant, reliable and even whispering that guidance is still there, even when the road ahead feels like a fogged in mystery.
Olive branches arc over her like a crown of quiet peace, heaven’s reminder that serenity often arrives softly, without fanfare. And beneath her, the primroses bloom …small, luminous things that open at night. They’re a bit rebellious, really flowers that choose to wake up when everything else goes to sleep. I love that. They speak to the beauty that appears when life feels dim, the kind that only reveals itself if you bother to look closely.
Her hand rests over her heart, not in fear, but in remembering that light and love are already within her. They always were.
I painted this for my cousin, Megan, during a time when words felt too small. Then my daughter needed its message. So maybe we all need to remember this from time to time. It’s a quiet offering a reminder that we are being held, that peace will find us again, and that even in the dark, there’s light… and it’s ours.
