‘He Called Her By Name’

she shows up in the dark
aching heart, no plan—
just love
just presence
just the ache of someone staying
when everything falls apart

she didn’t know what would happen
she wasn’t expecting a miracle
she came to tend to the ordinary work

And it’s there—in the raw, the waiting
the not-knowing—
that Christ comes to he

not with fanfare
not with fire
but with her name

that’s how resurrection begins

not in the spectacle
but in the garden
in the quiet place where grief and hope brush up against each other
where we are cracked open enough
to hear the whisper

Mary.

how often does He speaks our name
but we’re too distracted, too discouraged
too sure it won’t happen that way—
we’re looking for something louder
more obvious

But the truth is—
the Sacred tends to rise in the still places

so maybe this week isn’t just about remembering a story from long ago
maybe it’s about letting ourselves
become the story

can we stay?
can we listen?
can we show up, cracked open with love?

cause maybe the miracle was never far—
maybe it’s been beside us all along
softly speaking our name
just waiting for us to turn and see

Medium | Oil on linen

Features | 5.2×7.2″ in 10×14″ Custom Frame

Artist’s Note

A small but sacred reminder of the power of resiliency in faith, hope and love 🌷