Artist's Block

I realize that in times of stress and exhaustion, art has to take a backseat for awhile. That is normal. But, it can be very hard to get back into a creative spirit once life is getting back to normal. 

So, I bring out my "positive self talk" and work to end the creative drought.

Things I say to myself:

1. This creative drought is normal under the circumstances and will not last forever.

2. Everything I paint does not have to be a masterpiece. Just getting color on paper is important and therapeutic.


3. it is OK to paint just for myself. To paint what I want to paint regardless of how anyone else might receive it.

4. For better or worse, I AM an artist, and I always will be. 

 

Broken and Spilled Out

Every week, I ask our preacher at Hermanville to send me his next sermon topic and scripture reference. Because the special music is right before the sermon, I try to "match" the song to what the message is going to be.

This week's scripture reference was Luke 7: 36-50, the story of the woman who poured out an entire container of an expensive and precious perfume on the feet on Jesus, washed His feet with her tears, and dried them with her hair.

I almost cried when I saw what the sermon was going to be about. I have wanted to sing Steve Green's "Broken and Spilled Out" for years, but never had the opportunity. Today I did.

This song epitomizes that way that I have felt for years. I wanted to be truly "used" and "used up" for Jesus. But, there wasn't time. That was someone else's  job. Or, I simply felt like I was intruding. But, I don't have that feeling anymore. The things I have to give are being used, broken, and spilled out. Poured at His feet.

Lord continue to let me be broken, spilled out, and used up for Thee.

The Post

I can't believe I am actually writing this. I did not think the day would ever come when I would consider not renewing my daily subscription to the Vicksburg, (formerly Evening) Post.

But, the truth is, by the time the printed paper arrives, most of it is old news. I have already seen most of what is in the paper on TV, Facebook, or somewhere else online. When I was traveling, I discovered that I could get my comics, Dear Abby, Dr. Wallace, and the obituaries online for free. I am terrible at crossword puzzles and I can't even begin to do the Sudoku. I'm not looking to buy anything in the classifieds. I don't usually agree with the editorials. About the only things I might miss are the "Old Post Files" and the crime report. If a picture of me or one of my loved ones is in it, someone will usually cut it out and send it to me.

I would continue to take the Sunday paper so I can see who is getting married and read whatever Gordon Cotton writes. I like the Parade magazine and the big, full color comic section.

Between traveling and having a sick husband, I have not really read the paper since April. I don't miss it nearly as much as I thought I would. And, instead of struggling to read newsprint, I am getting more books read.

So, I am going to try saying goodbye to my daily "Post" when this month is over. Will I miss it?

Stay tuned.

The "C" Word

When I entered my husband's hospital room that Thursday morning, I could tell immediately. The biopsy news was not good. The doctor had made a very late round after I had left for the evening and given my husband the news.

The tumor is malignant. Bill has cancer. My lifelong non-smoking, non-drinking, clean living husband has lung cancer.

This all actually started with kidney stones. After 5 grueling, pain filled hours sitting in the ER waiting room, Bill was finally taken back and a CT scan taken to look for the stones. The stones showed up as expected. A spot on his right lung also showed up. Not expected. 

I have often heard people diagnosed with cancer remark that after they heard the "C" word, their brains immediately shut down. They simply were unable to process anything beyond this information. For this reason, people going to a doctor to receive biopsy results are advised to bring someone with them to ask questions, write down pertinent information, etc.

I was not even the patient and I felt like I had been hit upside the head with a baseball bat. The word "cancer", coming from my husband's mouth, changed our lives. Probably forever.

Fortunately, further tests show that there is only one tumor and surgery is scheduled to remove part of his lung.  It is not going to be an easy ride (for either of us!), but Bill's chances are good. 

Thanks to the "blessing" of kidney stones.