My Calling, My Privilege, My Joy {Telling the Stories of Women Through Art...}

This morning, I gathered some of my most recent finished pieces together...

...pieces that I have completed, scanned, and had made (at considerable cost) into the most

breathtaking (if I do say so myself) giclees.

I hung them, gallery style, on my dining room wall.

I wanted to get an idea of the "full effect" when I place the originals all in one tent - my tent - at my art show in two weeks.

Here is what I saw:

I confess...like a proud mother, I almost got teary-eyed.  So, in the interests of clarity and fairness, I called my neighbor to come give her opinion.  {...the fact that my neighbor is one of my daughters should have no bearing on the outcome...}

SHE got teary eyed.  But what happened next, I did not expect.  She then noticed something I. had. never. realized.

You see, I painted all these in random order...at different times...giving each one my full love and attention, never, never-ever thinking about the piece that came before, or what I'd paint next.

Hannah said, "Mom.  Look.  These tell the story of a woman's whole life."

And with a little re-arranging of their order, I saw what she meant.

I about fell over.  {...we say that, here in the south...}

Sure enough - 

You see my piece entitled "Before Her Wedding", lower left.  Then "Expectant", top right.  Then, "The Mother", lower right.  The smallest piece top left represents the community that supported her in those seasons.

Then, the other side -

The top left picture for me represents my twin daughters.  For someone else, that piece could remind them of their own daughters, or of a mother and daughter, or of a woman and her friend - all, irreplaceable components in a woman's life.

The bottom left piece is entitled "Mother and Son".  Oh, that piece alone has a million stories in all its many, intricate layers, and a lot of emotion.  The bottom right piece is entitled "The Grandmother".  And again, the (smallest) painting, top right,  is the second in my diptych;  it represents the "village"...the spiritual community that it took for me the woman to be able to grow and flourish in this fallen world.  

Do you see it?

Do you see how, without trying to, I have by the grace of God created a body of work that tells a story that for me is powerful?  Can you see why my Personal Art Consultation has become the most important, fulfilling thing I do?  {I interview women, hear their stories, and paint something for them that depicts the significance of who they are...}

I have a new dream job.  I can't wait to be hired to sit down with a woman and hear her stories...see the color of her hair...get a sense of her gifts...find out her most significant life events...and go back to my studio and paint six to eight paintings that depict her life stories, from early-on, right up till today...all various sizes, but able to be made into a gallery wall exactly like what is in my home -

I know it will happen.  I feel like I know that I will get to do it.  Perhaps sooner than I realize.

PS.  Every piece here is available for you to purchase as a giclee that can depict your story or stories. As you can see, the impact of creating a gallery wall is beautiful.  I invite you to become a collector of my work.  Feel free to contact me here, with this link.

{I can't believe I finally get to say things like this...seriously.  I am living a dream I have not earned and do not deserve.  All is indeed grace.}

Worship Is My Wings {...the only way to take flight in the middle...}

So I'm not even going to begin with a lame apology.

The facts being what they are, I couldn't not take some time off from podcasting and blogging and even life coaching.

It is what happens when your youngest son swears in as a Marine recruit.

It is what happens when you are preparing for a juried art show.

It is what happens when your mother has a cancer scare {praise God, she is in the clear, now!}

It is what happens when your church has three guest speakers and two weddings in the space of about six weeks.

It is what happens when you get addicted to canning produce from your garden.

It is what happens when you have to cancel a beach vacation.

It is what happens when your heart is breaking right in half, because people can be so foolish and unseeing and uncaring concerning the very heart of God.

It is what happens when life presses in fiercely, and you cannot in good conscience escape to hard liquor or pills or even (too many) crack sticks.

But I have been working very, very hard, and very, very long hours.  This has not been "a break".  This has been survival - taking time off from things I love a lot, to tend to things I love with all my heart.

I have finished my first two clay sculptures.  Here is the one I was working on today:

She is based on my "In The Middle" series of paintings, and last year's  31 Days Project, which was a full-on party I threw for no reason, for all us girls "in the middle".

She reads, "The beauty of youth and the wisdom of age met in the middle and gave her wings to fly..."

Now, I want you to sit down, right here, right now.  Here's a cup of coffee.  Here's a lap blanket.

We need to talk.

I have seen credit given for a woman suddenly finding her wings to so many things/ideas/persons.  I have heard women say "art" saved them.  I have heard women say that going into a multi level marketing business saved them.  I have heard them ascribe credit to motherhood, a man, a divorce, and eating gluten free.  (And obviously, not all those things are bad...)

In the interests of contributing to the conversation, I want to tell you that I too have found my wings - smack dab in midlife.  I have been experiencing what it means to soar above.  Can I tell you what has given me wings?  In spite of all kinds of sorrow, overwhelming responsibilities, and in spite of my every failure, can I tell you where these wings of mine have come from?

Worship is my wings.

Not art.  Not finding out who God has called me to be, now that my children are grown (though that has been amazing).  Not the empty nest, no matter how much I have come to enjoy that.  Not even grandchildren.

{...did I really just say that...}

Back to this sculpture.  I finished her up, just today.  I painted out her arms and hands, and put the words down the front of her dress.  As I was adding the doodles with my trusty Uniball (which you could not pry from my cold, dead hands...I have discovered THE PEN that will write over ANYthing) I was listening to this:






About two minutes in, I had to put that beloved Uniball down.  Tears were streaming, for no real reason.  I closed my eyes, and lifted both hands, and just took off in the spirit.

I flew.

Every burden lifted.

Totally refreshed, in a matter of moments.

I soared high above the mundane.

I soaked in the love of God.

I almost physically felt the anointing of the Holy Spirit being poured out on me, starting at the top of my head, dripping down past my shoulders, covering me with passion and purpose.

"Let us become more aware of Your presence....Let us experience the glory of Your goodness..."

Yes.

When I finally opened my eyes, arms raised, this is what I was eye to eye with:

Powerful moment.  I can't begin to tell you.

Art has not given me wings.  Rather, art is a tool I use to express the worship of the God  who has given me wings.

As she and I were eye to eye, her posture mirroring mine, I suddenly realized where every. single. thing. I create comes from.  I think I knew it already, in my head.

But after today, I know deeply and truly, I know in my heart...

...worship is my wings.

Timothy's First Week of School {Home Educating the Next Generation Has Begun...}

My heart can't take all the sweetness...

I have always known that the final analysis of my home education career - the final word on any success -  would come in the form of whether my children chose to home educate their children, even if only for a year or two.




Here is a brief peek into a moment in the little life of The Preacher's namesake.  His momma (our daughter) is taking him through a 5 minute phonics lesson.

 Doin' school.

 At home.

He's killin' it, y'all. Homeboy is so, so smart. And he lives next door (our daughter and her husband bought the house two years ago). And I have a little secret I'm carrying around about the house next door to THAT house - which also happens to be the house across the cul-de-sac from The Preacher and me.

 Suffice it to say...well...we just may end up with the urban counterpart to Walton's Mountain.

 My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord. I am living a dream I have not earned, and do not deserve. Grace, grace, and more grace. I hope your summer rocks, friends.  I am wrapping up my summer "Bucket List" and I have to tell you...we pretty much hit the high points.

It's been sweet.

Parables From The Garden {...He makes dead things alive again...}

I just returned home from a church conference yesterday.

And I just shot the picture above.  Just this morning.  

And I have something important to tell you about it, if you will indulge me by reading on.

Late, late last night, after unpacking, then promptly picking, snapping, stringing, blanching and freezing over a quart of green beans that were screaming at me from my neglected garden...

...I was watering said garden to the soothing sounds of cicadas. 

I gave all the raised beds a good drink,

then shuffled in my pajamas, blissfully barefooted, over to the many containers,

beginning with two large galvanized buckets of carrots.  

Then I turned my water hose onto 

the vintage Radio Flyer red wagon and the vintage wooden trug, both filled with lantana -

about the only thing that can sit in a container in full sun, and take these hot, humid southern summers.  

Then the containers of zinnias.

Then the shady area, where only impatiens grows in the

various and quirky containers in which I have planted them.

Interesting name:  "impatiens".

I looked at my antique typewriter - a gift from my neighbor - expecting to take in

the joy I always feel when I think of planting flowers in that unexpected space.

 {The typewriter was already in this shape when I lovingly gave it a new home and a new purpose -  

outside, in my shade garden.  Take heart, fellow antique typewriter lovers - I would never take a mint machine and plop it outside.}

Those impatiens were dead.

I'm telling you, from my vantage point, there was nothing left.  In fact, I had to squint in the barely-lit darkness to even see if there was anything...anything at all in the carriage of that typewriter, 

which before I went out of town

was lush with coral-colored petals and green leaves.

Nothing.  There was nothing but dried up sticks and stems.  I even walked

over, and bent low to investigate by the light of the twinkle lights in

the trees overhead...

...with the thought of setting the hose down, and pulling out the whole plant.   

But I was too tired.

For some strange, unknowable reason, I watered anyway.

I remember thinking to myself, "Why am I doing this?  I must be out of my mind."

As I was sleeping, overnight, I heard rain.  This morning, I did my usual - I went

outside to sip coffee and peruse the gardens.

I stepped off the back deck, turned left, and screeched to a halt, my mouth hanging open.

I ran back inside to grab my camera.

The Holy Spirit spoke to me, in that moment.

"For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, And do not return there without watering the earth And making it bear and sprout, And furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater;  So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth; It will not return to Me empty, Without accomplishing what I desire, And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.…"

Dear one, the Lord has sent you here today...

He has sent you to me, and me to you,

to tell you this:

That which seemeth to be dead, will spring to life in one night, when God says, "Live!"

Keep planting.  Keep watering.  And trust that His Word will fall from heaven and succeed.

Scripturally, His Word is both seed and rain.  Both metaphors

are widely used by the Holy Spirit to help us understand the power of 

everything God has spoken.

Hear Ecclesiastes:

Sow your seed in the morning, and at evening let your hands not be idle, for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, or whether both will do equally well.

Things unseen and deeply planted always spring up in

 ways we do not understand, and cannot predict.  

"And Jesus was saying, "The kingdom of God is like a man who casts seed upon the soil; and he goes to bed at night and gets up by day, and the seed sprouts and grows-- how, he himself does not know."   (Mark 4:27)

Take heart.  Have patience...don't be "impatiens".  

God is in the business of making things alive again.

What The Heck Is A Life Coach? {Episode 7 of my podcast, "Art and Life - Well Designed"}

I have been taking a very brief blogging hiatus, but am still creating podcasts.  I hope you enjoy!





Show notes are here

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Art and Artists - Episode 6 of My New Podcast "...Art and Life - Well Designed"

Link to show notes

Freedom On The 4th

Enjoy my latest podcast, on this beautiful, low humidity, soft southern 4th of July summer afternoon. We will soon be on our way to some friends' house, along with kids and grandkids, to cook ribs and swim and feast and feast and feast.  It is so nice to be loved and invited, since we are tired and still recovering from the Preacher's trip to Haiti.

Food, fun, family, freedom, and friendship.

I wish the same kind of joy for you today!

It is all about freedom...