If you’ve never been to my house, then you’ve never 1) been barked at by Bullet [who is super cute but incredibly protective and therefore inhospitable], 2) heard my mom play her piano [which is an incredible experience], 3) had my dad share one of his breakfast table sermons [which are often profound], or 4) experienced an aesthetic overload when visiting my living quarters upstairs.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m intuitive, feeling, blue, or just plain sentimental, but I like to surround myself with visual reminders of the people I love, the things I’ve experienced, or the words and images that inspire me.
Earlier today, when mom and I saw a storefront building for sale, I joked that we should buy it so that I could live in the apartment upstairs and use the downstairs for my art gallery.
I have a lot of art.
As I write these words tonight, I’m sitting in the orange fish art room. I have a huge fish that Barb the Art Teacher painted me for being Teacher of the Year the first time around, a multi-textured fish that Jack the Nephew made for me in 7th grade art class and another little finger painted fish that Jack made when he was 4, a yard art piece that Holli Who Lived In Laos painted orange for me, four surrealist prints that various friends have given me, and quite a few other pieces as well. They probably aren’t worth much to anyone but me, but to me they are worth so very much.
Then there is my room. The art work on my walls is an eclectic mix that holds pieces from as far back as high school. Currently, I have the pieces in my room grouped by subject/artist. I have a section of paintings that my friend Karen painted for the women’s retreats we used to attend. I have a section of drawings by a local artist that I stumbled upon in Vass. I have a Jesus section—that includes Laughing Jesus and a modern interpretation of the poem Footprints. I have a Fabio Napoleoni wall. I have a cross wall. I have a miscellaneous wall. I even have a wall-border of paper plates that I colored in college.
I have words in my room, too.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 [Not only one of my favorite verses, but also cross stitched especially for me.]
Embrace yourself as you are. Celebrate yourself as you long to be.
It’s not about controlling. It’s about being present, being open, being aware—and allowing it to come.
The baby in the womb was the maker of the moon.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Just keep swimming.
There are others words. Poems that people have written and shared with me. Words that I hold close to my heart.
And there are pieces of pottery. Ornaments. A Scentsy warmer. Orange fish and other collectibles.
Every piece of art in my room has a story that has influenced my story, just like every piece of art in this room has a story as well. And every time I look at the pieces, those stories and the people who helped make the stories run through my head—and I find myself remembering and praying and feeling the full gamut of emotions that they bring. And I am grateful. I am so very grateful.
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