Helen Badulak, September 25, 1937 – February 15, 2025
At the end of all things,
when the kistka drops from our limp hand,
the blackened shell of our soul is gently lifted by the hand of
our Creator.
He holds us to His light and melts our encrusted wax in the fire of His divinity.
He wipes it away, mingling it with the oil of His mercy.
And there—there!—light shining through the darkness!
The long-forgotten white-purity of youth revealed anew!
The yellow joy of childhood chasing away the sorrow!
The richness of orange and the inspiration of red burst forth again in their splendor!
All the colors and patterns fully unmasked as the record of our life,
revealing unto eternity the artistry etched onto the pysanka of our soul,
and now lovingly added to God’s Own
living collection of beauty.