“The Path” by Sallie Reid
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One morning I felt the Lord calling me out into the woods. As I was walking, I said, “Okay, Lord, did You want to show me something?” I looked up and saw this beautiful path through a patch of flowers. My son, John Reid, had a mowed a path for me to walk on, and the flowers were blooming over it. I felt there was a message in it for me, but I wasn’t sure what. Later, I went out on the pier of our little pond to be alone with the Lord. As I was sitting there, He gave me this poem:
THE PATH
Come, my child, sit with me awhile;
Come down the path in the wild.
You cannot know the journey’s end,
So enjoy the flowers just around the bend.
I will not mislead your steps;
They are taped and measured in depth.
You trust your heart’s desire to be.
Will you follow the path I have chosen for you and me?
“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you
should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye
on you.” Psalm 32:8
“You make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”
Psalm 16:11
“He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness for his name’s sake.” Psalm 23:3
My son had made the path for me to go down. Sometimes it is the children that lead us, and sometimes it is the children who cut the path for us to travel on. Sometimes we have to have the eyes to see the value each child of God has to offer the Kingdom. They may not even be aware, but God is always working to bring about His purposes in the earth. All my children are a blessing to my heart. What a gift from God they are.
Upon the completion of this book I have just realized this painting was so similar to the vision I had when my mother passed from this side to the next. I painted this in 2012 - my mother died in 2016, 4 years later. The moment my mom passed over I saw my dad come to meet her - he had on a white short sleeved shirt and white pants. He was standing at the base of white path through a golden field (just like this painting), my mom was dressed in a white shirt and a white circular skirt like from the 50’s - they both had black hair and they were laughing so hard. I only realized the painting was like the vision a few weeks ago. The only difference was the images of my mom and dad laughing.
THE PATH
Come, my child, sit with me awhile;
Come down the path in the wild.
You cannot know the journey’s end,
So enjoy the flowers just around the bend.
I will not mislead your steps;
They are taped and measured in depth.
You trust your heart’s desire to be.
Will you follow the path I have chosen for you and me?
“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you
should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye
on you.” Psalm 32:8
“You make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”
Psalm 16:11
“He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness for his name’s sake.” Psalm 23:3
My son had made the path for me to go down. Sometimes it is the children that lead us, and sometimes it is the children who cut the path for us to travel on. Sometimes we have to have the eyes to see the value each child of God has to offer the Kingdom. They may not even be aware, but God is always working to bring about His purposes in the earth. All my children are a blessing to my heart. What a gift from God they are.
Upon the completion of this book I have just realized this painting was so similar to the vision I had when my mother passed from this side to the next. I painted this in 2012 - my mother died in 2016, 4 years later. The moment my mom passed over I saw my dad come to meet her - he had on a white short sleeved shirt and white pants. He was standing at the base of white path through a golden field (just like this painting), my mom was dressed in a white shirt and a white circular skirt like from the 50’s - they both had black hair and they were laughing so hard. I only realized the painting was like the vision a few weeks ago. The only difference was the images of my mom and dad laughing.
