Insider Info

First off, a huge thank you to Lisa Santana for stopping by and adding the beautiful viola part to this song. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lisa! Lisa and her husband, Onjay (code name for John), are awesome! Thank you again. I'd also like to give props to Henrik Dønnestad, who made the brush strokes behind the graphic for this song. I don't know Henrik, but I found him on the Internet and he offers his art for free to one and all and I appreciate that. Thank you, Henrik.

Okay... on to the song: I had lunch with a friend in El Paso, Texas, and I told her I thought she was a very good painter. She replied, "I do okay when God holds the brush for me. I'm not so good by myself."

As I was driving home on the I-10, back to California, I was thinking about what she'd said. How cool to have God hold the brush for you. Then I got the thought that, in my case, having God hold a brush for me might be too much to ask. I'd be lucky to be in the painting at all, perhaps just a spec of blue in the corner of the sky.

As I continued driving, I became more aware of the huge array of colors in the desert sky, fading into infinite gradients as far as the eye can see. I'd be thrilled to be one of those gradients, way out there on the horizon. An obscure shade that doesn't even have a name - but it's in the picture nonetheless and part of a grand palette.

That's me, and I'm blessed to be here.

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The Painter

Words & Music by Ron Hall - All Rights Reserved Worldwide

You are the Painter,
I’m one of a billion shades of blue.
How blessed am I to be painted here by You.

You put me in the morning sky,
You placed me in the lover’s eyes,
You set me in reflections
In a shining drop of dew.
How blessed am I to be painted here by You.

You are the Painter,
I’m just a silly shade of brown.
But You placed me on the mountain top
And You put me in the ground.

I’m in the feathers of the hawk,
The storm tossed boat tied to a dock.
You stirred me in the warm broth
Of a homeless woman’s stew.
How blessed am I to be painted here by You.

How grand You’ve made Your palette,
How glorious the hues.
A sky as far as we can see.
Distant mountain’s majesty.
The forests and the rolling seas,
The flowers, the birds, the silver thorns and me.
Oh, the more I see the more I believe it’s true,
How blessed are we to be painted here by You.

You are the Painter,
I’m an unnamed shade of red.
But You set me in the sunrise
And in the warm fire by the bed.

I’m in the blood that trickles
From the crown upon Your head.
What words could I have said? What can I do?
To show I know I’m blessed,
Being painted here by You.

You are the Painter,
I’m one of a billion shades of blue.