At first glance, I only saw green.
The canvas breathed in layers…

soft olive, deep moss, tender jade…
as if creation were catching its breath.

[Two gentle donkey ears emerging from textured green layers.]

Gradually…

the outline of something familiar appears.
There…

two gentle ears, hidden in the fold of fronds and earth.

A donkey…

Not grand or noble by the world’s measure,
but steady.

Steady enough to carry a King.

And isn’t that how He always comes?
Not in fanfare or flashing light,
but in humility,
on borrowed feet,
through the back gate of our hearts.

(Palm fronds reaching upward, symbolizing ancient worship.)

If you look a little higher,
a palm tree leans into view…

its fronds lifted like worship.

In ancient times,

the palm leaf was a symbol

of victory, peace, and eternal life.
People waved them not just in celebration,
but in recognition of something holy.

(A humble brown crown subtly emerging from the painting’s upper edge.)

And that brown crown peeking through the upper edge of the painting…
not a golden one.
No jewels.
Just a quiet reminder:
This is the King of a different kind of kingdom.

(Textured white robe composed of layered, torn handmade paper.)

Look closer still.
That white robe isn’t painted smooth…
it’s layered with torn, textured paper.
Woven together like linen and Spirit.
Because nothing about His story was polished.
It was handmade.

Honest.

Holy.

Palm Sunday marks the beginning

of the most unexpected procession in history.
Not into a palace,

but into surrender.
Not toward power,

but toward sacrifice.

And yet…

through it all…

He was inviting us to new life.

That’s what I felt while painting this piece.
Not planning it…

but discovering it.
Letting each shade and texture reveal

what had already been whispered into being.

And now, I wonder…

what do you see?

Maybe it’s not just a painting.
Maybe it’s a doorway.
A memory stirring.
A moment resurfacing from somewhere eternal.

A King is coming.
Still riding low.
Still cloaked in mercy.
Still offering peace where the world offers noise.

A quiet summons

cloaked in verdant hues—

alive and present.

It breathes softly,

inviting reflection and peace.

“They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting, ‘Hosanna!’ ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ ‘Blessed is the king of Israel!’” 

John 12:13

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