This painting pictures my dear friend’s two boys. The inspiration for this painting came from a photo that hung in her bathroom. When I saw it, I knew I had to paint it.

One day after several unsuccessful attempts to obtain a copy of this picture from my friend, I climbed up on the side of her bath tub to reach the framed picture. Standing on my tippy toes, I somehow managed to slip the heavy picture off the nail without falling or dropping it.

When I emerged from her bathroom, photo in hand, my friend burst into laughter. She wondered how I had managed to reach the photo. Smiling, I admitted it wasn’t easy.

My friend promised to email me a copy of the photo that very day. So I relinquished the framed picture back to her. A couple weeks later, I finished the painting. When I unveiled the artwork at my friend’s house, she cried.

Footprints Tell the Story

The photo in my friend’s bathroom told a story: As the younger boy started to wander off, the older boy lovingly tugged him back. Of course, I identified with the younger boy.

With unbridled energy, I have sometimes headed off in my own direction—manipulating my husband to get my way, pressuring my children to do something they didn’t want to do, or ignoring the voice of wisdom. And as a result, I have experienced painful consequences. But in the end, I am so grateful for the tug of a gentle hand, pulling me back on course.