Stars in the Desert -Paint Party Friday

Here is a recent graphite drawing from my sketchbook.  I have started drawing again in earnest.  My fingers are not near as stiff as they were--I believe my inability to draw had much to do with mourning the loss of my Beloved.   I was frozen for awhile.

Sometimes the road I travel is rocky and full of tears.  But then I remember to look up at the stars and to Him Who made the Heavens.   He is the Creator Who loves me and walks with me. 

For the twinkles in the skies, I used the Star of David.  I love the way the star looks--so perfectly balanced and beautiful.

Happy Paint Party Friday, all you wonderful people. Thank you for dropping by.

Heart Breaking News

Heart breaking news.  Our dear Mumsie will be staying at the VA Hospital in Portland with Dad, until Daddy flies away to heaven.  I am so grateful to the Veteran's Hospital for their great kindness to Dad and to Mom as they share their last days together.  Thank you for your thoughts and prayers for our precious family during this time. 

Unspoken

 

This graphite drawing was inspired by a photograph of a sculpture found in a graveyard.  I was so touched by her face and body language.  The grace and beauty of this statue filled my eyes.  I felt something unspoken from the hand of the artist who originally carved this beautiful woman--I hope I was able to catch that mystery.

Our Sweet Friend Bootz The Cat

This is our sweet little Friend Bootz The Cat.  Boots flew away from this earth ten days ago.  She left a giant hole behind.  How we miss the funny things she did.

She had claimed the left side of my desk as her own.  If I happened to leave something I was working on in HER space--she'd push whatever it was off the desk--into the garbage, then sit back on her haunches, staring down as though to say--well, that's where THAT belongs.  She would often jump onto my desk.  She would start her flying leap from across the room.  The impetus of impact would send everything except Bootz, onto the floor. I think she liked the noise it made--and the fuss I made.  lol  She was so cute I could only laugh at her.

She would follow my husband and I around the house, interested in everything we did.  When I would sit at the kitchen table to draw or read, Bootz would hide under my skirt, sitting on my toes--snagging anyone who passed by, along with strings, feathers--whatever might dangle into her reach.  She knew how to open doors and loved to watch the birds from my husband's office window.  She slept on Alan's lap in the evenings and spent her night times cuddled between the two of us.

She rarely spoke, but when she did--we knew something was up.  She needed additional water in her dish, or wanted more food.  She disdained  people food of any kind, preferring her science diet food. 

The day before she left us, she snuggled more than she had ever before.  She stayed as close to each of us as she could.  She even would lay her head on my arm as I worked on my computer.

This picture was completed some days ago--I wanted to share her happy face with you.

Unicorns and Pink Meadows

I hope you don't mind that some of the stories behind my pictures are filled with real life--and death. This story is painful--but ends with great hope.

I remember the day our beloved Grandmother Jenny flew to heaven. I sat in the upstairs hallway and cried in the dark. She ran into the arms of her Savior after a long hard night of struggle.

I began to paint. First a stormy reddish sky. As I wept, I crunched sodden browns, streaks of yellow and shadows of darkness into the murky horizon.

I sat back to ponder the stories Grammie had told of her life. Sharp peaks of hardship thrust through the years. She'd conquered them, one step at a time. I knifed thick paint from my palette, forming jagged mountains. Then tears as I covered the jutting peaks with cool snows reflecting pink from the angry skies above.

As I remembered her words of wisdom and faith, gentle tree-clad hills swelled beneath the mountains . . . I thought of her laughter, and the twinkle of her blue eyes and a bright meadow blossomed with faint pink flowers.

I smiled through my tears, recalling Grammie's vivid imagination. I retraced her wonderful stories peopled with elves and faeries. Then from my brush, the outline of a unicorn emerged. His white coat danced with pinks from the painful red horizon, reflecting the cheery pink flowers at his feet. His dark red and pink mane swooped joyfully against the mountains, and his face grew kind and winsome . . .

Spreading out from the unicorn's feet, yellow centers appeared in the pink flowers, twinkling vividly in the tender green grasses of the meadow.

I looked at that painting for a long, long time, thinking about how delighted Grammie would have been. Then I signed my name.

Painting has a way of expressing my heart.

In the hours I spent wielding my paintbrush, I worked through my pain, sorrow and feelings of anger and loss--to precious memories of my Grandmother's courageous life, to thoughts of her laughter and whimsey, to arrive in a place of peace.

And I can feel her smiling.

Something Bigger

I remember the day my brother Dow told me he had only a month left to live. He died January 27, 2002. I think one of the defining moments of my life was the day he flew away to heaven. We were born only 14 months apart. I had never lived in a world without my brother.

.

After Dow died, I thought the world should stop--we all did. But it didn't. I thought, why is the sun still shining, why are the birds still singing? But the sun kept shining, and the world went on much as it did before.

.

But our lives had changed forever. Death has a way of prioritizing life. Suddenly things which were terribly important, no longer seemed so.

.

One day I found a photo of my brother's hands. They were beautiful. I began to paint them against a black canvas. Hands formed, then for some unknown reason, I painted in the world--scudding in clouds, earth and sea.

.

My son wandered past where I was painting. He stood there a little while, then said, "Why don't you put a moon right here."

.

So I did. Then a sprinkling of stars, and sparkling robes. Glory light formed between his fingers.

.

I looked at the painting for a long time. Then I realized, through my grief for my brother, God had illustrated His great love, and heart-breaking gift to the world.

.

Today, the painting hangs on the wall in my parent's living room where the morning sunshine touches it with a special glow. Mom says she feels great peace when she looks at it. She says she senses the presence of God.

.

Looking back, I am convinced that, in wielding my paintbrush to express my deep loss and sorrow, I was directed to paint Something Bigger.

Blue Crickette'

 Our little furry friend is in heaven today. Sunday afternoon our beloved Crickette' went missing. That morning we saw her sitting on the front steps watching us leave. My husband and I both had a strange feeling about her--she seemed sad. I blame myself for not stopping the car to put her into the house where she could be safe. I wish I would have followed my hunch.

With all we must accomplish over the next few days both Alan and I are very sad over the loss of our little friend. It will be a very difficult week for us. I'd appreciate your thoughts and prayers. We've faced so many hard things over the past few years--this latest loss seems to have opened the floodgate for my tears.