I'm watching my five-year-old granddaughter paint a picture by the window. The curtains are still nearly drawn in resistance to the long day's summer sun. Only a small partition remains to draw light onto the workspace and now the retiring sun is making a weak attempt to illuminate the room. All it's waning energy seems focused on enveloping my granddaughter's form. Atmospheric light particles accentuate the downy hair on her arms and send her already platinum head of hair into near transparency. Her form becomes ethereal. She becomes angelic and suddenly timeless to me. I want to pay attention to her activity, but I am engrossed in the art already being made. The young child within the sunbeam about to make a creation is already a creation--one that at this moment is being presented to me as certain perfection all in itself. I feel honored to witness a young soul seek to create. I am humbled to behold creation from the divine and original source.
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