My Written Name

“Ugh…there it is,” I say in almost disgust. Putting down my paintbrush I add, “This is what they get.” The signature of an artist is the finale of their work; it is like a definition, leaves no questions or doubt.

My once, simple written, “MEL” has now become a daunting task.


My eye and hand coordination has been altered. It is not just painting my name, but regular writing as well…even finger-poke typing. My eye sees the key, but finger comes down on one next to it; my eye sees the last letter written on the paper, but my hand can’t find the space next to it unless I write sloppy and large. (One can forget staying within the lines and I am finding permanent markers quite lovely—the black markings on my hands after getting the cap back in place is such proof.)

And for “MEL,” I have not known what to think. The markings seem contradictory to the artwork, as if painted by another. But in a sense, “MEL” written by my hands—shaky, off in lettering, unable to focus on detail—is like a definition, leave no questions or doubts of this fragile body that I am still able to live within.

Mom did help me on the other paintings…I held my brush and she did the name strokes; it is like a definition…leaves no question or doubt that we were not meant to travel or carry our burdens alone. Even though I have so many physical needs and someone is usually close at hand, I do often feel lonely– lacking face-to-face fellowship. A spiritual fellowship.

The other night, after a conversation with Dad about church and weekly fellowship that left me upset, I went to my room and sat by Muffy on the bed. I wrestled with thoughts, but ended climbing in bed that night praying about it.


“Flowers in the Rain.”

These past few nights, I have struggled, not just in the hardest of extreme physical exhaustion, but I know mentally and in essence, spiritual. “I’m battling it here,” I point to my chest in tears. I know this—it happens every time before an appointment with my doctor, as if Satan reminds me of my flesh on purpose. I think this time, he is doubling his efforts, because he knows that I find out my MRI results and that I have important topics to discuss and that I am going to explain again, why I have peace. Peace in the soul.

After mentioning Job, I say, “I sometimes think of my tumors in that way…Satan can have them. But he can’t have my soul.” I think that is why spiritual fellowship is so divine—the reminder to each other that we are spoken for: “Greater love has no one than this, that he should lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13


“Love is Blind.”

*Paintings posted on Etsy–Brushstokesbymel


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7 responses to “My Written Name

  1. Jill Pinkerton

    Thank you Melinda. Thank you.

  2. You truly have one of the most beautiful souls, Mel. Please know you’re never alone spiritually or emotionally. You have so many family members and friends that love, support, and actively pray for you every day. I am honored to have become your friend and I cherish my beautiful painting!

  3. Tracy

    What beautiful artwork, Mel~~including YOU! Much love to you, dear friend!

  4. Kim Jenerette

    We are not meant to travel or carry our burdens alone …. well said, Melinda …. we do appreciate you sharing your heart … our prayers go out to you often and we will continue to pray for His protection from our enemy …

    We love you.

    Uncle Kim and Aunt Lisa

  5. Dustin Hughes

    You’ve left me speechless this morning, but with a full heart.

  6. Lisa Jenerette

    You continue to amaze me with the strength you find from our Lord. You surely put me to shame in relying and trusting in Him for different areas of my life. Thank you for sharing your struggles and where you find your peace. In our weakness He is strong. Love you girl! 🙂

  7. Mindy Hughes

    I don’t think we hear it enough – like you said “we are not meant to travel or carry our burdens alone!” Thank you for your transparent heart, and the pictures you posted are beautiful!!!

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