New Year with Grandpa in Japan…

– Where traditions create an atmosphere of;


Touch the scroll

Photo on 4-17-15 at 9.29.jpgAbout 3 years ago I began a painting… It’s done and I gotta tell you: I’m SO proud of it! I only have 1 slight problem: I need to name it! If you have a suggestion, please make a comment. – Thank you!
IMG_2662.jpgScrolls are pieces of art. They are fascinating and I find it incredibly beautiful to know that Jesus read from a scroll. But instead of me jotting down a lot of explanation, I will allow the painting itself to speak for itself: The journey of my 90 x 90 cm painting.



The sketch – and the result

A while back my daughter was struggling greatly with a particular relationship in her class. At first I was fumbling blindly finding something to say that would help. But the Word of the Lord is always best! 

Proverbs 3:7-8 in the Good News translation told my girl that SHE was doing the right thing… 

So I thought I would be creative. 

The sketch: 
The poster that will go on her wall:  

She is every bit as creative as I like to think I am, so she told me which words to highlight in the verse and maybe I have to put more swirly flowers on, but in essence. 

Do the right thing and it will make you strong. 

Thank you Jesus!

Living water

While resting my leg, I finished and framed my “Living Water” painting. I’m especially happy with the deep contrast of broken clay pots and the living waters ability to heal and renew us on the insides as well as outwardly.

It’s inspired by John 4:11 in particular but in essence the story of the Samaritan woman found in John 4.

Praying this painting will bring love, joy and healing to all who are in need.

With love in Jesus

Sir, You sit by this deep well a thirsty man without a bucket in sight.
Where does this living water come from?


Remain in My love

I paint… and on top of this blog there is a page called “Art” and I’m slowly filling it with pictures of my works that are for His Glory alone. During hard times I paint to focus on Him and express my gratitude that I’m not alone. During good times I simply paint to show how much I love Jesus.

John 15:7-9 (GNT)

If you remain in me and my words remain in you, then you will ask for anything you wish, and you shall have it. My Father’s glory is shown by your bearing much fruit; and in this way you become my disciples. I love you just as the Father loves me; remain in my love.

When I began this painting it was nothing but an image of a dove I had seen somewhere I can’t remember. I have been asking for my girl to be delivered from her anxiety. But when I read John 15 one day, I began praying this scripture – sincerely and deeply – and I saw something new in my girl. Prayers work and before I knew it, my sketchbook had lots more pencil strokes. It turned into this painting and I asked our favorite doctor and beloved adopted father in faith to name it for me and he did: “Remain in My love” and mentioned that it reminded him of Jesus’ baptism. Which in turn reminded me of my own… oh what wonderful memories! – And may I, and you all, always and forever remain in His Love!


Dear Dad – a throwback (sort of)

We are getting closer to the date that will mark the 6 months, or half year, of your death. I still remember the month of August and the hospice where you spent the last 6 weeks of your life. I remember your ups and downs and I remember my gratefulness of being so richly Blessed to be able to spend the last months of your life with you. The Lord was more than merciful to us, giving us such Blessing when there has been 10.000 km between us for more than 10 years. I remember vividly your smile, your hugs, your room… and your pains. I remember holding your hand when you drifted off into the merciful morphine haze, crying my tears while asking the Lord if He would shorten your suffering. The cancer was in your bones and spreading fast.

Despite your pains dad, you hung on to life. You had such a love for life itself, for the nature around you. You always took pride in knowing the names of the birds and you could whistle like most of these birds. You grew up in the forest. You knew every corner and tree in the deer garden north of Copenhagen because that was your playground. The amusement park down the path there were many friends and friends meant free rides in the rollercoaster. Oh dad… I have heard your stories many times over. You even pointed out the trees grandpa, your own dad, had planted in his job as a so-called lumberjack, when we took a walk through the forest. I loved our walks dad and I will never forget those. They were the highlight of my childhood Saturdays.

As a little girl you meant the world to me. As a teenager you were controlling but generally on my side during my battles with mom. As a young woman you turned to the angrier side, didn’t you. Was it too painful for you to let me go? I sometimes wonder why you became a grumpy one during the years before I found myself a good man. And just when I did, mom passed away. That was some blow wasn’t it!? Just 6 months before that your own mom had passed away and that was hard on you, I remember.

Last year around this time I spoke to you on the phone daily. Sometimes you were sad and cried. Sometimes you were positive and uplifting. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t do more… I wish I could have taken away the pain. You were no whimpy kid – or man. But you suffered during that time and I cried many tears feeling alone and far away. I somehow know that you did too, though you never told me.

We had our arguments in life. But blood is thicker than water. I will never forget the day I had to tell you that your life was coming to an end and that it was okay for you to let go. It wasn’t okay dad, because I didn’t want you to leave… But you had to. We both knew that.

Since you passed away dad, I have carried with me my sketchbook and pencil and tried to draw my way out of the grief. I can tell you that it helps a little to put strokes on the pain of grief I felt and though I had no shock, there was a lot of grief – and now the “missing” part. I will never stop missing you dad. And though I probably will always have a tiny bit of doubt in my heart if you indeed went to be with the Lord Jesus, I take comfort in knowing that you wanted to believe and trusts God that He honored your wish.

I have painted my way through the pain dad and I hope you like it. This is you – your big broad shoulders, wearing your hunting clothes, walking across the field toward your sunset.

I will never stop loving you. I will always be your daughter.