Unintended Consequences

When I began my journey of creating 100 pieces centered on women, I chose the ambiguous word "making" to give myself the freedom to use any medium that seemed interesting. I've learned to draw a recognizable female face, both with realism and abstraction in pencil, pen, marker and various types of paint. I've begun to explore highlighting and shadowing to bring dimension. I've grown in confidence as well as skill.

These outcomes I expected.

What I didn't expect was how my day now feels incomplete without creating some kind of lady, how 100 days passes in a heartbeat, how quickly one can assemble a body of work, and how I could easily spend the next year exploring this theme.

But 10 days ago my paintbrush introduced me to my growing tribe of Gaudy Ladies. Who knew I had such joy and delight and color inside me? I can barely wait to get into the studio to see who my brush will create next. What an adventure!

Would I have found them without first doing the 80+ pieces that came before? Who knows. And that no longer matters to me. I'm having the time of my life with these colorful women!

I share all this with you, Precious One, because your own version of my Gaudy Ladies hides inside you wanting to be discovered. Your "ladies" might be songs or dance moves or photographs or poems or stories or flower beds or teachings or massive weights moved or clothes made or closets ordered or books read or any number of skills. You need only choose a task to practice regularly. Your heart is probably giving you hints where to start. Your Creator is faithfully giving you clues on your genre.

I think you may already know where to begin. And what begins as a chore might just develop into incredible joy. Really.

Don't be afraid; dare to follow your heart. Share your task with one other person daily.  Sometimes the accountability of texting an image daily was the only thing that kept me creating!

You truly do have it in you. I believe in the process and I believe in you.

Because I love you. Bunches.

Pain is Fuel

Pain has had many faces in my life: mental, emotional, physical and relational. Each time it rears its head again to touch my life, I am surprised. I'm not sure why, but I seem to think my existence should be painted in primary colors and have a soundtrack in a major key.

I recently saw an anonymous quote somewhere on social media: "Pain is fuel." I got to thinking how true this is. Pain is there to let me know that something is out of whack. Like anger, it is a signpost that something needs attention. That being the case, pain can fuel action and I get to choose what the action will be. This is MY area of responsibility, something I can control. Pain can be the catalyst for transformation in my life.

So rather than staying down and whining when pain (mental, emotional, physical, relational...) makes yet another appearance in my life, I have a choice. First I acknowledge my initial response, usually fear, anger, depression and/or self pity. THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT STEP! Imagine simply ignoring the screaming terror of a child and telling her to go color. Ridiculous, right? We don't do that to ourselves either. We don't should on ourselves.

My next step is to grab a journal. I write out all my anger, fear, self pity, etc. I scribble, scratch, paint, crayon, tear magazine pages and glue them. You get the picture. This action is what some call "turning it over" and others call meditation or prayer. The piece itself is rarely pretty. Raw or real, perhaps. However, as I am unloading/debriefing, something nearly always occurs. I begin to see something hopeful, or positive or peaceful. I seem to find answers. Or the answers find me.

So, dear one, the next time you bump into one of those stinking, tear-inducing layers (and you will), consider trying my trick. Let me know how it works for you. You know I am rooting for you to find your answers.

Because I love you. Bunches.

(Materials used in above image:
gesso, acrylic paints, homemade alcohol spray ink, Golden gel medium, gel pens, Micron pens, Sharpie water-based paint pens.
Tools used to create above image:
credit card to spread gesso, punch to cut butterflies, one layer of a printed paper napkin.)

Fly

I have a thing for butterflies. I mean, how cool is it that they begin as creepy-crawly, leaf chewing creatures who morph into beautiful, delicate, fluttering nectar-drinkers. And I'm not alone in this. They have inspired books. Consider the book Hope for the Flowers by Trina Paulus. The life cycle of a butterfly is an apt metaphor for life and death... and life again.

Butterflies often appear in my journals, paintings, photographs and mixed-media pieces. As I played in my journal today, I was reminded that I, too, was made to soar. I was not made to creep along the ground forever. My wings are growing daily. I am like the butterfly who must tear herself out of her cocoon to gain the strength to fly. Facing and overcoming obstacles is an integral part of my future strength.

So, my lovelies, remember that we all were made to soar. God has placed that in us. Our part is to become strong in truth. To know who we truly are and how God sees us. To use our time, strength and gifting to find our wings. To become fully alive.

You are an incredible and unique being. No one on the planet has your exact ability. No one can take your place. So go for it! Don't waste another minute on the lies of self-doubt. You were truly made to soar. I believe it with everything inside me and I'm excited for  your journey ahead.

Oh, and I love you. Bunches.