What I Learned from Paint Night

The women’s ministry at my church did a paint night. I was excited to be part of this. I have wanted to do this in the past, but could never justify the money to plan a night of painting a picture I didn’t know if I would like in the end. This sounded like fun and I didn’t want to miss out. After all, we were going to paint happy little trees.

As we got into it, my fear grew. I haven’t painted in about a decade. What if I mix the color wrong and it looks horrible? I’m not much of a decorator and it was suggested that I try to match some of the decor in my house. Ok, so I picked a color I thought I would want and set out to mix it. Although, as I added the yellow to the blue to make a light greyish teal, it wasn’t doing what I wanted. The color was not...right. I can’t even tell you what was missing or what was needed to make it what I had in my head.

I finally thought, I like this color well enough, I’ll just use it. It’s pretty, but it is nothing like what I have in my house, nor is it what I wanted.

I learned some more lessons throughout the evening and since I thought I’d share.

Relax

This is something I realized toward the end of the evening. There is little you can do to make it a bad painting. Breathe. I forgot to do this for the first half of the class and was so stressed out by the time I got to the details, I wasn’t enjoying the process. This is not what I had planned. It was supposed to be a fun evening with the ladies, but I was too focused on perfection and not on the process.

Listen and follow the instructions

I didn’t listen. When it was time to paint the trees (white on a bold teal background) the paint was too thin. I ended up spending the next hour fixing them, then had no idea how to do the next steps.

I was literally the last person painting at the end of the evening. Everyone else was waiting for me to finish to get the group picture. Talk about pressure.

Trust the process

I’ll be honest. Some of the steps seem crazy. It doesn’t look like it will turn out. In fact, it looks like a mess until the end when all the details are in place. Here’s a picture of the painting before the trees. I wasn’t too sure it would look like the example at this point. I was close to the painting, perhaps too close to realize it was going to be okay.

What I learned as a result

My painting turned out beautifully. It's not perfect, but I enjoy looking at it. I feel like I could hang it in my house and proudly state that I painted it. Could I sell it? I don’t think anyone but my mom would want it, but I will look at it and think back to all these lessons I learned and see that the end product looks much different than during the process.

What life lessons have you learned through challenging efforts that didn’t seem to be going like you thought they would?

The Weight of Sadness

Grandma Betty passed away today. She has been in my life since I was 12. She was a wonderful woman and example of someone who loves wholly. It brings back memories of my Grandma and Grandpa Jones who I've lost in the last few years. It hurts to have loved ones dies, not matter how old they are.

In addition to this, I have heard about too many suicides. Read too many articles about the negative effects pornography is having on teenage kids...KIDS! Perused the comments in a post about kids in my hometown playing chicken by running out in front of cars going 40+mph. Simply crazy stuff. I have also read stories a colleague wrote about attending his aunt’s funeral after she committed suicide, knowing he too deals with depression and suicidal thoughts.

Among all of this, yes, there are the positive events happening....My social media feed is flooded with adorable, chubby new babies. A friend who is feeling better after having an episode with MS. The positive effects hiking has on the brain that I hope will translate and inspire me to get out and hike more. There has been many more uplifting bits of information and blessings, but for some reason all of the negatives are weighing heavily. This morning I read Luke 12:22-34 that talks about not worrying and how God has all of our needs taken care of. All of this stress isn’t for me to worry about. “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” (verse 25) The verses are talking about feeding and clothing oneself, but to fear and worry about the world around us, I feel is the same principle. We can’t keep someone alive by worrying. We can’t control someone through stressing over the decisions they make. But how do I give this immense weight I feel up? Is it for me to feel the weight? I feel both yes and no are the answers. Yes, because that weight means I feel. I feel because I'm human. My heart is soft and easily burdened by tragic events, even those of people I don’t personally know. This is a good thing. I can empathize with others. This is right and healthy. It is right for me to feel the weight, but it is not right for me to live under the burden of the weight. So, no, I should not have to feel the weight as if it is mine to carry. However, the weight should push me to action to help lessen the weight for others. This doesn’t mean that I will always take away the source of the weight. It might mean something as simple as encouraging that friend who is down. I heard a term recently, “holding space.” When you hold space with someone, it is saying you are there with them, whether it be shown by lending moral support, helping with the practical stuff like watching their kid so they can catch a nap, or listening without judgement or assumptions even when you don’t understand. I like the term of holding space. We can’t take away other’s pain. We can’t remove consequences of regretted choices. We can support, encourage, lift up, hold on to, educate, enlighten, give life to those around us who are hurting. That is the purpose of the weight we feel when we see pain around us. I can’t be back in my hometown with family as they grieve the loss of Grandma Betty and celebrate her well-spent life. I can personally grieve. I can listen. I can hold space. I can pray for those who are suffering at the knowledge they won’t see her this side of heaven. We will miss Grandma Betty, everyone who knew her. That is a weight not quickly removed. For those closest to her, like her husband and children, it may never be removed. Neither can I let that weight hold me down with a feeling of helplessness or hopelessness. I will grieve the loss of Grandma Betty in my own way. I will encourage those who are struggling. I will ask if I can listen to someone who is needing a listening ear. I will give God the needs of others whom I cannot help. I will commit them to God in prayer, asking him to work mightily in their lives. God is so much more capable to help others beyond the small practical ways I can. If you are feeling the weight of the world around you, take a step back and see if there is something you can do. Is there someone you can hold space with? Then hold space. 

Do you see kids being abandoned by their parents? Become a foster parent or CASA volunteer. 

Do you see people who need an education about the risks of driving and texting? Find some way in your community to bring a campaign for awareness locally. 

Even one life helped by your efforts is one more person with hope. Beyond the practical and life-applicable things you can do to help, let it go. Give it to God. He is powerful. He is a hope giver.

20 years from now I will be…

How would you finish this sentence?

I have a very good idea what I want to be doing in 20 years. This is a big question that many cannot answer.

In retrospect, it took me a long time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was 30 years old by the time I graduated with my Bachelor’s degree. 

Even deciding on what degree I wanted took a good 10 years. I went through degree plans like they were clothes: Elementary Education, Bilingual Education, Environmental Science (emphasis on the “mental” for me trying that program, but that’s another story entirely), Spanish Education, then…finally, after a classmate talking some sense into me on the steps of a university building, English Literature.

I decided on the last and was delighted to love and enjoy my major. I minored in Ethnic Studies because of my love of learning of other cultures and getting to know other people. I find different cultures fascinating and love to learn from others no matter their background, history, belief system. I now teach adult education and love to see my students have their aha! moments in class and gain a passion for being a life-long learner.

So, to answer the question…I would like to be a published author and have my Doctorate in Literature or some other English focused degree. I’d like to have a faculty position at a university. My family, I expect, will have grown by then and I hope to encourage my children’s passions and enjoy my time with my husband on new adventures.

Most importantly, I expect to hold to the hope that carries me through the difficult times. I know there will be many to come, just as there have been many in the past. The tangles and knots we will face only stand to remind me that there is something greater that I am a part of. This is an incredible feeling and hope.

So, I ask you, where will you be in 20 years? Don’t be afraid to dream big.