Devotional Reflection: Painting the Edges of Heaven

by David Lowry

Last night I dreamed of a small, pastel town — a place like Laurel, Mississippi, but more radiant than the real one. The streets glowed with color, the people were joyful, and technology was unnecessary because everyone seemed to know one another by heart. It was a place of belonging, peace, and beauty — a glimpse, perhaps, of what Jesus might have called the Kingdom of Heaven.

In that town, I joined friends in painting the eaves of a building. We each experimented with color, seeing what would look best, and I remember feeling drawn to a marbled blend — layered and alive. It struck me that we were not just painting wood; we were participating in creation itself, adding our small touch of beauty to the edges of heaven.

Before the dream ended, a friend handed me an egg — a perfect, fragile promise of new life. I hesitated, then cracked the shell and swallowed it. I woke up immediately, but the feeling lingered: something in me had been planted, something quietly being born.

Now, as I enter a Master of Family Therapy program at seventy-three, this dream feels like a sacred metaphor for my next chapter. After decades of teaching communication, I am being invited to practice it at its deepest level — not just in words, but in relationships, healing, and presence. The dream-town reminds me what healthy connection looks like; the painting reminds me that growth is a creative act; and the egg reminds me that rebirth is possible at any age.

Lately, I’ve been wondering what Jesus wanted His listeners to experience when He preached the Sermon on the Mount — what was on His heart that day? Perhaps He longed for His hearers to taste the beauty of a world made whole again, where mercy, meekness, and peacemaking color the landscape. Maybe that’s what my dream was showing me too: the kind of world I’m called to help restore, one family, one heart, one conversation at a time.

So today I pray for courage to keep painting — to bring beauty where there’s brokenness, to build harmony where there’s hurt, and to carry this marbled palette of grace into every life I touch.