As far back as I can remember
I always wanted to paint, but the career in art for which I had hoped never
materialised and so painting remained an occasional hobby.
My working life was spent in engineering, starting
in a drawing office but gradually scaling the ladder to management and executive status.
Through all this time there was a frustrated artist wanting release, an ambition still
not fully achieved.
As
far back as I can remember, too, my family was steeped in Methodism and
for years, on and off, I followed the pattern. Always, though, I
was searching for more – not always diligently, I must admit. It
was in my early forties that I discovered something I had never been told,
that not only did I need a personal relationship with Jesus but that I
could actually have one and, at a Bible Week in 1975, I discovered the
truth for myself.
Suddenly my paintings took
on a life themselves, light and colour taking the place of dull drabness
and, although I’m not going to make the National Gallery, I get great pleasure
and can spend happy hours relaxing in front of my easel – that is when
I’m not involved with God’s work in sharing the truth about His love and
healing power.
