A Happy Heart

Smack dab in the center of my refrigerator door hangs the cutest little piece of art you ever did see. Oh course, I'm a little prejudiced. It was created by my then 7 year old granddaughter, Heather. 

You see, she loves art as much as I do and we enjoy creating together. Even at her tender young age, she's learned the value and power of art to minister to our souls. 

At first glance, you might think her artwork isn't anything special, a few words and a lot of simple, colorful hearts but you'd be extremely wrong. Underneath those shaky primary letters and those multicolored hearts lie a whole lot of love and tenderness. 

When Heather presented me with this artwork, weeks ago, she had no idea how a simple drawing would minister to me on a daily basis. 

To be honest, there have been many days since we last visited that I've struggled. Not only have I had some health challenges but I've also had some down days, which is very unlike me. But the cold, rainy, gray February days and the inability to get outside brought on a tiny bit of depression. 

Usually, whenever I feel a bit of sadness coming on, I yank myself up by the bootstraps and give myself a swift kick in the rear - ain't nobody got time for that, I tell myself, but this time, it wasn't that easy. 

Until...

I walked into the kitchen and saw the most beautiful reminder of joy I'd ever seen. And that little drawing made me smile. 

The Bible doesn't talk much about happiness, but it speaks a whole lot about joy. Read these verses: 

"The commandments of the Lord are right, bringing joy to the heart. The commands of the Lord are clear, giving insight into living."  Psalm 19:8

"Joyful are people of integrity, who follow the instructions of the Lord. Joyful are those who obey his laws and search for him with all their hearts. They do not compromise with evil, and they walk only in his paths." Psalm 119: 1-3

Those are a couple of very good reasons to choose joy every day, don't you think? 

Maybe you don't have a Heatherbug in your life to make creative works of art for your fridge, but I'm so thankful I do. All of us need to find ways of coping in these tumultuous times and if there's something or someone who can help you remember to seek joy first thing each morning, I hope you focus there. 

Everything doesn't have to be right in your world for you to experience happiness. . If you keep your focus on God and eternity, it is easier to experience joy even in challenging times.

In John 10:10, Jesus said, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." 

We are not meant to merely make it through life. We are supposed to live life to the fullest. And that means we should be happy and joyful. We aren't supposed to simply be alive in the sense that our heart is beating, and we have breath in our lungs. We are supposed to have a life that we enjoy - an abundant and full life. And the only way to have that is through Christ. 

The Healing Power of Art

Yesterday, my husband and I decided to take advantage of some free classes at our local library. We'd looked through a list of upcoming courses and had chosen one we thought would be enjoyable. I've loved art since childhood and thought it might be fun to introduce my husband to the healing power of art. 

I've loved art since childhood and as a self-taught artist, have grown exponentially in using different mediums throughout the years, but had never participated in an art journaling course, the one offered for this session.

We arrived at the library about 15 minutes before class began and introduced ourselves to other members of the class. There were only 10 of us and after talking, we found out 3 of us were neighbors. 

When the door was opened and the instructor came out, we were surprised to find she was very young. None of us were greeted or given instruction of any kind, so we just walked in and found a place at the long table in the center of the room. 

We waited for Bailey, the class instructor, to start but she never did. Noticing a table with some art supplies on it, I got up and walked over to see what items were available. There were markers, a few stencils, some rubber stamps, torn papers, and some magazines. Not much in the way of art supplies, I thought. Taking a few of the items I went back to my seat and waited. Others soon followed suit. 

Bailey passed out some 4x6 blank notebooks and told us to just get messy. That's all she said and then she sat down to work on her own art journal. Everyone in the group looked bewildered. They had no idea where to start. 

On the table were small pots of Mod Podge, some glue sticks, and some plastic cups of water. My husband looked at me and said, "What do we do?" I told him how to begin and then started to put some gesso on my journal pages. The ladies around watched and began to do the same thing. 

The room was quiet as people began to glue items into their journals. Occasionally, I walked back up to the supply table to get more items and as I did, I'd glance to see what others were doing. One lady had taken a red marker and written the word, "SUCKS," boldly across her journal page and underlined it several times. I assumed she meant the class sucked, which it did. 

We were all discouraged but no one said a thing. I told my husband I could have taught the class easily and if given the opportunity, I would have instructed the students on step by step procedures to build their pages. 

Bailey must have been fresh out of high school or in her first year of college. I'm not sure if she was timid or just had no idea how to teach a class. In any event, what basically happened was a group of 10 adults sat down and pretended to know what they were supposed to do. It was very sad. 

The class would have been so fun to teach! I would have introduced myself (which Bailey never did, we only knew her name from her nametag), then I would have passed out the journals, and had taken time to talk about the various mediums and supplies available. Then I would have had the students take a few moments to think about what they might want to do. Did they want to focus on a feeling, an experience, a word? And if so, how might they like to express it? Would they want to paint? Scrapbook? How would they want to convey their thoughts? I'd have also talked about the possibility of layering items for my depth and interest. 

The class was slated for an hour and a half. During that time, I completed 2 journal pages and got to know my neighbors well. Phil struggled to get one page completely done and the women across from me struggled as well. 

If given an opportunity, I'll leave a detailed review for Bailey. I hope it will help her in the future. If she's planning on getting a degree in art or art therapy, she's got a long way to go. 

Art should be a beautiful tool for  self-expression. I think Bailey needs to understand that. 

The creative juices are flowing again!

We've been in our new home for almost two weeks now and we've unpacked almost all the boxes. It feels good to see things starting to fall into place and this once empty house is beginning to feel like home. 

I've missed doing all of my art projects! Art is my self-imposed therapy. While I've always loved art since childhood, it became more important to me after being diagnosed with cancer. Art helped express my deepest feelings, the ones I couldn't voice. I didn't realize how important it was to me until we began packing to move. 

Cramming my art supplies in boxes was painful. Hundreds of brushes, paints, palettes, knives, and other materials would lie dormant until I had time to pull them out again. And though I wanted to open those boxes when we first arrived, I needed to prepare a place to do art. I didn't have a designated studio. Nope. I'd have to use one of the guest rooms in my new house. The only problem was the carpet. Any artist knows paint inevitably spills or drops on the floor. Carpet isn't a good thing to have in a studio/art area. 

I got on the internet searching for something to put under my easel. I could use a canvas drop cloth, but it would bunch under my feet and I'd probably trip, so I nixed that idea. I knew I wanted something that would be waterproof and easy to clean but didn't know what. I would've been nice to have a clear plastic mat, like the ones you use for a rolling chair at a desk, but I'd need one much bigger. When I couldn't find one, I opted for the next best thing - a splat mat. It's a waterproof mat for use under highchairs. I found one with rainbows on it in various shades of tan and brown which would perfectly match the carpet. 

My easel was sitting in the garage of our new house so I could get to it quickly. I set up the splat mat and placed the easel on top. Perfect! But the room looked empty with the stark white walls. Something had to be done about that. 

Pulling out my Cricut cutting machine and a huge roll of black vinyl, I got to work. I wanted to make a fun, funky, abstract border. After about half an hour of designing my images, I began cutting the vinyl. I cut out 15 separate 12x12 sheets then I began the process of weeding. (That's where you take a small pick like tool and remove the portions of vinyl you don't want to adhere to your surface.) Another hour passed and finally I had all 15 art sections weeded and ready for placement. 

I measured and marked the wall so I'd know where each sheet would go, then I transferred the images from one sheet at a time to a piece of transfer paper. Next, I took the transfer paper to the wall and lined it up with my markings before permanently adhering the images to the wall. 

The whole process took up most of my day but when the project was complete, I was happy! I'd created my own little artsy space. 

I haven't decided what I'm going to work on first, but I imagine it will be something Easter related. I like to do paintings and donate to various ministries.

Now to find the boxes with my gesso, paints, and canvases then I can get busy. I'm so thankful I have a creative outlet. It makes my life so much fun!

 

Art in the Park- a reminder of a difficult time in my life

Jason Kimes' "The Least Amount of Space"

This weekend, while visiting Tennessee for my grandson's wedding, we happened upon a unique park filled with architectural sculptures. As we wandered through this huge outdoor exhibit, we were amazed at the craftmanship. There were several sculptures that caught my eye, but one in particular, Jason Kime's "The Least Amount of Space." 

The sculpture was amazing and made of thousands of iron rods. As I walked around the piece experiencing it, I felt myself remembering a time when I hunkered down and huddled beneath the scrutinizing glare of the world. 

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, in 2014, I found myself withdrawing from the world. Once very self-assured and confident, I was all of a sudden insecure and fearful. I had no idea what my future held. I wasn't ready to die. 

Without friends or family to consult, I retreated into myself. There, I found solace. Though I never dared trust in my own strength for survival, I knew One who would sustain me, Jesus. 

Day after day, as breast cancer seemed to devour my world of normalcy, I curled tighter and tighter into a safe little ball and what I found was as I decreased, He increased. 

I knew in me there was no good thing, but in Him, all things held together and existed. 

Though I had no idea what my future held, I knew Who held my future. 

It took years before I felt safe enough to unfurl, allowing myself to open and bloom again, but I'm thankful He gave me space and grace. 

Mr. Kime's sculpture, I noticed, was carefully constructed. Each iron rod had been welded into place to form a perfect figure. I wondered at the process behind the work and why the artist had chosen to portray the human form in such a protective position. Had he experienced deep pain in his life or perhaps felt it from someone? 

Art is such a beautiful expression of our deepest feelings. I've found it to be very therapeutic in my own healing process. Often, when I have no words to speak, I am able to express feelings with paint, clay, or other artistic mediums. 

It's important for those affected by cancer to have a creative outlet. Some wield words and others wield brushes, but not matter the tool, the result is the same - an outpouring of what's been pent up for too long. 

Seeing, touching, and experiencing art is powerful. I enjoy both participating in it and being the creator of it. 

Kimes' "The Least Amount of Space" is a thought-provoking work. It could have been named "The Experience of Pain", "Devastation," "Shelter in Place," or a hundred various titles, but Mr. Kimes chose the one that spoke to his aesthetic, and I respect that.  

Though it's been almost 8 years since diagnosis, I find myself a "work in progress." Some days are easier than others and some more difficult. If I were a sculptor, I'd have probably worked and reworked my piece over and over again through the years. I may have even smashed and destroyed it, giving up only to start over a day or two later. And that's the thing - cancer affects everyone differently. We work through it the best we can. We layer on piece after piece, rebuilding and refashioning our armor, until we begin to feel almost complete again. It's an ongoing process, one we must take both lightheartedly and seriously at the same time - much the way we view art. 

Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, says it so well - "Art enables us to find ourselves and loose ourselves at the same time.”

I hope you'll take time to let art speak to you. You may be amazed at what it will say.

"You're an Artist! You're a Real Artist!"

Months ago, I was contacted by a woman I'd met on our trip to Israel. She explained she'd started a tradition of gathering family members together and having them participate in some sort of art project. She'd only done it once before, but thought it would be something worth continuing after last year's success. I thought it was a neat idea and immediately agreed to be the 2020 artist.

After agreeing to lead the class, I asked for details. What did she want me to do? How many people would be in the class? Etc. Etc.

I came up with a lesson plan and purchased supplies.

As the time drew near for teaching the lesson, I became very fearful and felt ill equipped. Satan was doing a number on me and I asked some of my online friends to pray.

The day of the event, my husband I drove to North Georgia, van loaded with easel and boxes of art supplies.

Arriving at the church, we set up in the fellowship hall and watched as her family members began to arrive. I knew the group would be composed of adults and children but was surprised to find we had people from 4 to 86 and the 86 year old woman had Alzheimer's disease.

As the class members took their places at the tables, I passed out supplies and we got started.

I was nervous as I began to paint. As I worked, I explained each step of the process having the people in the room attempt to follow along, but it wasn't that simple. In between painting, answering questions, and resupplying medium, I was also trying to keep my composure and train of thought. I'd never taught a group before. The span of ages was also a challenge as I tried to make the lesson simple for the children and keep the adults on track at the same time. Somehow, I worked from 10:30 until 2:30 and we got our paintings completed.

Rose, 86 with Alzheimer's

I wanted to thank those who prayed for me. Your prayers undergirded me that day and helped me remain calm. I think I held my breath those 4 hours because when we got into the car to leave, I broke down sobbing.

You see, I've never considered myself an artist. In the first place, I've never had an art lesson. I taught myself everything I know by reading, watching, or observing others. But God must have wanted me to do this project because I needed to be taken out of my comfort zone.

I'm not an extrovert but by agreeing to teach the class, I was forced to be one. And, I don't even know why I accepted the offer anyway. Normally, I would have said, "Let me think about it and I'll get back to you," but that day I said yes immediately.

God taught me somethings about myself that day. He made real to me the verse that says "when I am weak, He is strong." He also extended me plenty of grace that day as the woman who asked me to teach and all of her family members sat patiently and willingly as I tried my best to led them in a fun project.

The day turned out to be a success, but boy was I glad when it was over! A professional photographer had been hired to document the day and although I haven't seen any of the photos yet, I'm sure she got some doozies.

Right before I left the building, I decided to make a pit stop. As I was coming out of the restroom, one of the students, a cute, long haired 4 year old girl came skipping toward me saying, "You're an artist! You're a real artist!" I couldn't help but smile at her proclamation over me.

My little encourager

I wonder if God knew I needed to hear those sweet words just before leaving? I think He did and he used that beautiful, inquisitive little one to speak truth into my heart.

Bottom line and lessons learned that day -

1. God had already equipped me to teach the lesson! I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. (Phil. 4:13)

2. There was no reason for me to be afraid! "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.(Isaiah 41:10)

3. Obedience always brings blessing.

After I'd gotten home and we'd unloaded the car, I had time to revisit the day's events. Although the lesson didn't go as planned, I did have fun and think the students did, too.And just think, if I'd said no to the offer, I wouldn't have received the blessings God had in store for me. The best part of the day was seeing that sweet little girl, with her bright pink headband, skipping down the hall and hearing her words drip with honey as she said, "You're an artist! You're a real artist!" 

 

You know, I think she just might be right. Perhaps I do have a right to claim that title now.

When God takes you out of your comfort zone

Today, I've reached full freak out mode. In just one day, I'll be standing before a group of a dozen people to teach them an art class. 

About a month before Christmas, a woman I'd met on our trip to Israel asked me if I'd be willing to teach some of her friends and family an art class. She said she'd paid me to do it. In haste, I gladly agreed not taking time to consider all that would be involved. 

For the past few weeks, I've been gathering the art supplies I'll need for the class. I've made a "lesson plan" and worked hard to perfect my teaching technique by using my youngest daughter as a guinea pig student. 

The practice lesson went well but took longer than I thought. By the time I was through teaching, I was physically and emotionally drained. My back was killing me from standing and bending to paint at the easel for 3 straight hours. I had a splitting headache from clenching my teeth and holding stress in my neck as we worked. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was a nervous wreck. 

After finishing the lesson with my daughter, I prayed that evening as I went to bed - "God, what are you doing? Why are you taking me out of my comfort zone???" I told Him I wasn't a teacher, especially an art teacher and that's when He reminded me I used to teach preschool and Sunday School for teens. 

The more I prayed and questioned His motives, the more I felt Him impressing upon my spirit that I needed to be taken out of my comfort zone because without this experience, I'd never grow. 

Yikes! 

Of course, I wanted to grow. My entire life I've done my best to continue growing in my faith, but I never dreamed I'd be put to the test this way. 

Standing in front of a group of strangers, I'd be putting myself at risk of failure and humiliation. 

When I shared my fears with my husband, he told me to relax. When I talked to my youngest daughter about it, she said, "Mom, it's supposed to be fun. Just enjoy yourself." Those were wise words I needed to hear from both my husband and my daughter. 

So, tomorrow is the big day. And even though I know God's ordained this, I'm scared silly. And even though I know I'm to be anxious for nothing, I'm shaking in my boots. 

What's the worst that can happen? I become the laughing stock of their little gathering. What's the best that can happen? I'll succeed at teaching the class, the students will complete their project and leave happy and fulfilled. I'm hoping for the latter. 

I guess I need to learn to trust God more and that's why He's using this opportunity to teach me to step out in faith. 

I could use a few prayers to boost my confidence. If you have a moment, would you lift me up? 

Thanks in advance and if you feel God calling you to step out of your comfort zone, I hope you're a more willing student than I. 

Remember, and I'm also speaking to myself here, God causes all things to work together for our good. All things - even art classes. 

So tomorrow, as I stand in front of a group of women I don't know, I pray God will give me the strength and courage to succeed. I pray He'll allow me to teach without fear or dread. I pray He will be my ever present help in times of trouble and that He'll go before me and prepare the way. Most of all, I pray He'll use this event to grow me into a stronger witness for Him.

Little ones keep you young

My youngest granddaughter keeps me young. She knows how to steal my heart. And the fact that she loves art, too, just makes her that much more dear to me. 

Since she was little, she's always been interested in art. From the time she was old enough to hold a pencil or crayon, she's been creating. As she's grown a few years older, I've enjoyed introducing her to different mediums. Yesterday, we focused on acrylic paint. 

Though she's only 5, she knows exactly what she wants. At our local craft store, I helped her pick out a canvas, some brushes, paint, and a palette. Leaving the store, she was so exuberant I think my heart skipped a few beats. She doesn't know it yet, but this little one is keeping me young. 

Choosing a canvas

Art, art, and more art!

I never considered myself an artist, although I wanted to be. Since I was a very young child, I'd loved to dabble in all types of art mediums. From the moment I held my first crayon, I'd fallen in love with art.

In grammar school, although I didn't have many tools in the way of art supplies, I found my finger was useful. When I was working on a project for a local social science fair, I chose to do my report on Brazil. For weeks, I read everything I could find on South America. My project was going to focus on the art of bull fighting and the rigorous training fighters must endure. As I compiled my information and wrote my report, I wanted to add a visual aid. Digging through my mother's closet, I found an old canvas and some used oil paints. (She liked to dabble, too.) Flipping through the pages of a large book I'd checked out from the library, I found a photo of a bull. That photo became my inspiration.

I had no idea how to use oil paints back then and was unfamiliar with their properties. But in my haste to complete my project, I sketched the bull's head enlarging it to fill the entire canvas.

I had no brushes with which to paint. My mother's art days had been long ago and apparently she'd thrown out her old and worn brushes. What a dilemma! What could I use? I didn't have time to beg, borrow, or steal brushes. It was after 11:00 p.m. and my project was due the following morning. So, I had to become creative. Ingenuity led me to look at the ten digits on my hands. Maybe they would work.

I took a dab of black oil paint and gently placed it on the canvas just inside the area I'd sketched for the bull's ear. Taking my little finger, I began to smooth and spread the paint into the areas it needed to be and found, by taking extreme patience and care, I could manipulate the paint to do what I needed it to do.

I continued working on the painting until three or 4 in the morning and then lay down to rest. When it was time to get up and get ready for school, I gathered my things and started to head out to my mother's waiting car. As I pressed the painting to my body, I realized the paint had not dried completely! What was I going to do?

When I arrived at school, I went into the girls' bathroom. Their, hanging on the wall, was a convenient hand dryers Holding the painting beneath the dryer, I used the other hand to press and turn it on. I stood there as long as possible trying to dry my painting but knew I'd have to get to class soon or be counted absent.

Thankfully, when I returned to class, the teacher was telling us it was time to go and prepare our displays. That's when I realized no one would touch my painting but me as we set up our presentations. The teacher explained that judging would begin the following week, that would give my art time to dry!

By the time the judges reviewed the work, my painting was dry to the touch. I was thankful I'd had sense enough not to use a lot of paint in my work. I'd skimmed on tiny amounts of paint while using my fingers to work it into the canvas.

I can still see the tips of my fingers that day at school. They were covered in dried paint. I'd scrubbed my hands before school but the oil paint was difficult to remove so I'd gone to school with black, brown, and deep red stained fingertips.

Fast forward to my post active breast cancer stage and I find myself loving to paint again. This time I've graduated from using my fingers regularly to only using them on occasion. I paint with acrylics now instead of oils because I'm an impatient person and don't want to wait for the paint to dry.

Painting has helped me pass the time and I've found, when I'm painting, I don't think about my health.

Yesterday, I participated in a local event called Free Art Friday. It's an event where artists create works of art and then randomly place them around the downtown area for people to find and take home. It's a great way to bless others and my husband and I often enjoy watching the finders as they discover my works of art.

Not only do I hide art and give it away for free, I often send packages to friends or family without their prior knowledge. Giving is a gift I enjoy just about as much as I do creating.

My theme for the past month has been angels. There's a verse in the Bible, Psalm 91:11, that says, "For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." That verse seems very fitting to write on the back of my paintings. When I send those paintings off in the mail, it is my prayer that the recipient will know that God is always watching over them.

Art is therapeutic and I'm thankful I discovered it at a very young age. I hope I'll still have the energy to create well into my 90s, that's the plan anyway! And hopefully, my hands won't be too shaky to hold a brush, but if they are, I know how to use my fingers.

Pain, pain, go away!

I haven't written in a while so I'm hesitant to start off this blog post talking about pain, but it's what's most prevalent in my life right now, so please forgive me.

For the past few months, every bone and joint in my body has hurt but lately, the increase in pain has become worrisome...especially now that the pain seems to be concentrated in my spine.

My next visit to the oncologist isn't until February 2019 (I'm on an every 6 months schedule right now) but if it keeps getting worse, I'm going to have to go in. In the meantime, I've been hearing many good things about cancer survivors and the use of medical marijuana.

Since Governor Nathan Deal passed the medical marijuana law for our state, I've been thinking about approaching my oncologist about possibly prescribing it to see if it would help alleviate my pain. From everything I've read about cannabidiol, it doesn't contain the levels of THC that cause the mood altering affects of normal marijuana. In fact, the Georgia law states that any medical marijuana product can't contain more than 5% THC and a person cannot have more than 20 fluid ounces on their possession without suffering the consequences of receiving a felony charge against them.

Most medical marijuana is given to end stage cancer patients but it's also used for those suffering chronic pain, like I do.

I have a very high pain tolerance so when I say I need something to help with the pain, my pain level is off the charts. For a normal person, the one to ten scale offers a place for them to rate their pain but I've been living with pain so long now, it's impossible for me to pick a number that matches my level of discomfort.

Every time I am in extreme pain, I can't help but wonder if the cancer has come back and if it might have settled in my spine. In 2015, doctors found a suspicious spot on my spine at L5 and thought the cancer had returned. It turned out, after more testing, that it was just a hemangioma but it scared the living daylights out of me.

I pray daily and ask God to keep me free from another round of cancer. I don't know if I could take it. This one has been hard enough.

To keep my mind off the constant pain, I've been using art therapy. It helps me shift my focus from the pain and allows me to be creative. It's a self imposed therapy that I've thoroughly enjoyed but I have to temper my time. Usually the best time for painting is early in the mornings when I have the most energy. As the day progresses, my back hurts more and more, and I have to quit working.

My complaints aren't always vocalized. I try to keep them to myself as much as possible for fear of burdening others with my problems, but sometimes, you just need to dump things out and let them go...so that's what I'm doing. Thanks for reading and for the love and support you offer. It means a lot!

A reminder of the brevity of life

Early this morning, I received word that an uncle had passed away. The news was expected as his health had been rapidly declining for several days, but even so, it's never easy to hear the news.

Just a little over a week ago, I'd had the opportunity to stop by and visit while on a recent vacation. I was shocked at how much he'd changed since the last time I'd seen him. We enjoyed a nice visit and talked about a mutual love of ours, painting.

All over his living room walls, Uncle Joe had displayed his artwork. There were acrylic paintings on handsaws as well as framed works of art. As I glanced around the room, I could see he took pride in his work but he also made a point to paint what was familiar to him. There were several of the paintings that caught my eye but in particular, the paintings of covered bridges. I mentioned this to him and we talked about some of our favorite bridges in and around Georgia.

He told me he wanted me to have one of his painted saws and explained I'd have to find one that didn't already have a family member's name on the back of it. Apparently, they'd all placed their mark on his works anticipating that one day, after he'd left this earth, they'd have the chance to claim their favorites.

I was unable to find a piece of his art that didn't already have someone's name etched on back. He saw the disappointment in my face and said he'd find one. In the meantime, he said, he wanted my cousin to bring me several of his blank saws. He knew I'd find pleasure in painting them. As my cousin brought the handsaws into the room and lay them beside me, Uncle Joe said, "I want one of your paintings, too." It made me happy that he'd want one of my pieces of art and I made a mental note to complete a piece specifically designed with him in mind.

Just two days ago, I'd completed the painting I was going to give Uncle Joe. I'd worked quickly after we'd returned from vacation in hopes of getting it sent off to my aunt so she could show him before he passed away. Now the completed painting lies in the middle of my dining room table. He'll never get to see it and that makes me extremely sad.

My acrylic pour painting mountain scene

On my cell phone, I have a saved voicemail Uncle Joe had left me. It was from a few weeks ago. I'd sent him a card in the mail telling him I was thinking about him and that I loved him. He responded by calling me and telling me the same. I'm so thankful I kept the message.

I listened to it just a few minutes ago and it made me cry. My uncle had called to check on me and ask how I was feeling when he knew very well his days were numbered.

Oh, the brevity of life! I'm reminded of it every day. Since my parents' deaths, and the recent deaths of several other friends and relatives, I can't help but remember the verse in the Bible that says we're just a vapor...here for a little while and then gone.

A saw I painted for Uncle Joe

The older I get, the faster the years fly. I don't like to admit it, but pretty soon, I'll be part of the oldest generation left in my family. I wonder if my children and their children realize how fast the time is going. Time grows ever precious with each passing day.

It's difficult to keep up

It's been a while since my last post. I don't mean to have such large gaps between writings but sometimes, life just happens. We all get busy. We all get distracted. And some of us, the ones of us who have a little touch of adult ADD or adult ADHD, can't seem to stay focused. Whatever the case may be, I've been sidetracked.

For the past month or so, I've shifted my focus from writing to painting. It's been wonderful therapy and the art has given me such a lovely distraction that I haven't been able to stop. Can you be addicted to painting? Perhaps. I like to imagine Van Gogh or Picasso were addicted to their craft. I am by no means in their league. I'm far from it, but I have found a medium that lends itself to rapid results and a confident satisfaction.

It's hard to have so many hobbies. I enjoy every single one. That's a good thing because when I tire of one, I can easily pick up another. I tired of things quickly. That's one of my flaws. Today I'm going to try to regain some semblance of normalcy and shift myself from the world of painting back into the world of writing.

One of my paintings

Sometimes it feels like I have a smoldering fire within me. It's a burning desire to write. Often, when I don't let the words spill out, they bottle up inside me and I feel like I'm about to explode. This is when I can understand the madness some famous authors experienced. And it seems rather odd that people with such creative minds could fall into the trap of madness, doesn't it? Unless you've felt the overwhelming power of need, there's no way to understand this concept. It is real. And sometimes, I feel quite mad.

My book has been calling. I've put it on the back burner for some time now. For some reason, I just couldn't get past chapter 4. Hopefully, I'll make some progress today as I pick it back up and re-read it.

On another note, I've been invited to attend a Relay for Life celebration for breast cancer survivors. Reluctantly, I accepted the invitation. I'm not too keen on big to-dos like that but felt it my obligation to participate. This year marks my fourth of being cancer free so there's definitely reason to celebrate.

Breast cancer has finally been relegated to the back seat of my life. It no longer dictates everything I do and I'm thankful. It seems I'm finally being able to just focus on living. And speaking of living, I'm so excited about an upcoming trip. It's been in the works for many, many years. Lord willing, this October I'll be out of the country. More details to come! 

Rainy days don't necessarily have to get you down

It's a rainy Wednesday here in my neck of the woods and it's been pouring all morning. Tornado warnings were issued in several nearby counties as well as my own. When these come, it's always a nerve-wracking time but since I've lived in Georgia all my life, I know inevitably that this type weather will come each year. We usually have tornadic activity mid Spring, so today's warning was a little early.

Whenever it rains, I can't help but think of idioms like, "It's raining cats and dogs," or "Rainy days and Mondays always get me down." I don't often feel down on rainy days, in fact, I rather enjoy them. They give me time to stay indoors and do the things I enjoy doing like binge-watching TV series or reading a good book.  But today, I think I'll use this dreary day to focus on being creative.

I've started a new art process called acrylic pouring. It involves acrylic paints, pouring mediums, and silicone. It's quite fun and I've quickly become addicted to it. Art has been extremely helpful to me in my breast cancer recovery. As I'm working on an art project, no matter what the medium, I find myself getting lost in the project. I don't think about anything other than what I'm doing at the time. It doesn't matter if my back is screaming out in excruciating pain or if my arms are swollen with lymphedema, I just keep on working.

The cancer treatment center nearby offers art courses for breast cancer patients and survivors at no cost. It's a great opportunity for those affected by cancer to connect. Sometimes I visit and participate in a class but most times, I prefer to work alone at home. When I'm home, I can wear comfortable clothes, crank up my stereo and work freely. It's nice to allow myself time to be uninhibited and while the creative juices flow, I am overcome by a wonderful healing power. As I create, I can channel my pain into the art.

When I look at the many pieces I've created this week, I can tell exactly how I felt at the time of the creation. There's a wonderful ocean scene, filled with beautiful shades of blues, seafoam green, and white - I was feeling very peaceful and relaxed that day. I was also thinking about planning an upcoming vacation, a time to get away and rest. Another piece is chaotic - filled with an array of bright colors but tainted with splashes of black. That day was one of feeling conflicted and confused. I'd been stressing about an upcoming checkup and couldn't help but wonder if test results might indicate cancer had returned. There are many others and each one has been cathartic for me.

My kitchen table is covered in puddles of wet paint. Thankfully, I thought to cover it in plastic first. This has been my hub of creativity. Each evening my husband comes home from work and takes a look. He marvels at my work and I smile. He knows, as well as I do, that staying busy has been a vital part of my healing process. Though it's been three and a half years since my initial diagnosis, I still feel myself in the midst of healing. I'm not sure I'll ever be completely whole again and that's okay. My life often feels like a masterpiece in progress. Some days beautiful colors meld together to create a sweet memory and other days, they're scraped away and repoured.

Life moves at such a swift pace and just like the liquid paint that pours from my container onto the canvas, it travels exactly where it chooses. Sometimes settling into deep crevices and sometimes sliding over the edge. We have no control, although we often think we do.

It would be nice if all medical doctors would recommend art therapy to their patients. I could just imagine, at the end of a visit, a doctor pulling out his prescription pad and telling the patient to wait just one more minute while he scribbled a note. Upon handing the prescription to the patient, the words on the script pad would read something like this - "Art therapy, dose TBD by patient. Medium TBD. PRN for optimal health."

Some doctors and hospitals are finding that art is beneficial for their patients. In fact, doctors in Sydney, Austrailia are prescribing this type therapy for their patients on a daily basis.

It's important to do whatever we can to stay as healthy as possible. Art therapy is an easy way to do that so I say, "Be creative!" Even if you've never had a single art lesson, you can make art. And after all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say. Don't worry about what appeals to others, use art as a creative outlet to move from continually focusing on your health to focusing on joy. The one thing you have that nobody else has is your creative mind, your story, and your vision. So write, draw, paint, build, dance, and play. Live as only you can and enjoy doing it. 

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-11-30/art-therapy-for-cancer-patients/9212052