My House 140
We grow up in a house if we are fortunate. Not everyone is. Of this I am well aware having volunteered with homeless people when I lived in Washington, DC. It is hard to miss people who live on the street if you keep even one eye open. Tonight though I had the wonderful opportunity to attend an opening night show by a woman I know about our lives being houses and maybe we all do carry around our homes inside of ourselves. I saw her work two decades ago, early in her career, and bought a painting in memory of my sister. To this day, the angels in that piece grace my bedroom wall and watch over me as I sleep.

My House as a Life is the name of the show and you can check out Jane’s beautiful art here: The show itself is inspiring but what struck me is how in life we cannot journey alone. We touch hearts and are touched in return along the way. We remain part of each other, move into our souls, take up residence, and live a long time in gratitude as a memory. Who resides in your heart? When I encountered so many folks tonight I was reminded that beauty is in art but it is also in relationships. I am grateful for this opening that allowed me to see my life as a house, as well as my house as a life.



About sstyves

A Canadian prairie girl rooted in Ignatian spirituality, I seek God in all things. Whether I catch a glimpse of the Divine and delight in its presence in nature or in the beauty of an encounter with someone, I am ever so grateful that I can recognize the Creator. I greet each new day with hope and happiness, expecting blessings and miracles because I am created to praise, love and serve God. This blog is one way of realizing that through my writings, prayers, and photography. To God be the Glory!
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s