Tag Archives: moving

New Painting, Finally!

See this oil painting of a yellow rose come to life in about 1 minute (time lapse)

I’m finally back to work after our big sudden, unexpected move. The move took wild turns and we ended up buying a house at least a year before we were ready to do so. The way it came together wasn’t what we wanted, but we have landed in a place I already love, and I will heal from the things that happened. There’s a lot I can’t say here, that I’d say if we could be in person and have a long heart-to-heart over a cup of tea or coffee. I’d bring one of my cakes or a batch of cookies. But, here we are, chatting through my blog that anyone can read. It’s a bit like being at a party, having a personal chat, and a person with bad intentions overhears- twists our words to hurt us, or takes offense at something that wasn’t meant for them, and spiritually had nothing to do with them.

Anyway, I think you know what I mean. I wish I could fully describe the extreme highs and especially the lows, but I can’t. I’ll say this: I have felt profoundly hurt and disappointed by some of the unfair and bitterly unjust events that unfolded, but through it all, I felt divine intervention and spiritual support that can’t be explained away by logic. We’d have to believe in a complicated series of coincidences to dismiss it all, and that would frankly be more of stretch to believe than to simply take it as it was: I was being spiritually supported in a mysterious way that I can’t understand, but I’m grateful for. My family felt it too, but I don’t say much about their experiences on the blog, as those are their own stories to decide to publicly tell or not.

So why did I choose to paint a yellow rose as my first painting in my new home? Because, shortly after we moved in, my rose plant bloomed for the first time. It is symbolic for me because yellow roses have a special meaning in my life. My grandma loved them and would keep her roses on a hill that was highly visible. When she passed, I thought of her whenever I saw yellow roses. Since I always admired them, I wanted to grow some. Grandma was successful with hers in upstate New York, but we were living in Minnesota at the time, which has much harsher temperatures in the dead of winter (sometimes as low as -25 F). I could only have a specialty engineered rose, an “arctic rose”, in yellow. That’s all I could find that had a good chance of thriving. It did thrive, and those were the roses that were in bloom long after they should have been, when I was Mom’s caregiver and bringing her cut roses. The roses finally stopped blooming after she passed- which was after the regular season when my roses had usually already stopped producing new roses for the year. If you garden, you can probably relate to how surprising it is when flowers, fruit, or vegetables survive much longer than expected. It feels like a miracle, especially if there is a heavy emotional impact.

After we sold our hobby farm that we’d built (after years of fixing up dirty rundown houses while living in them, selling and saving toward having a nice new house one day and meant as a “forever” family home), because the company my husband worked for moved out of the country and laid everyone off after they trained their replacements, and I lost my job too since my arts school was based in my home studio, we moved several times (my apologies if you’ve heard this story too much, but new people join us regularly and don’t know my story so I have to summarize it fairly often). While moving around, I didn’t want to get another arctic rose, so I waited until I could live someplace warm enough for real traditional roses to thrive. Then I waited some more because I could find any- they were sold out when I tried to get some- and I was always a day late and a dollar short. Time slipped away, and I never did get my real yellow roses… until a few weeks before we learned we would have to move from our rental house sooner than we planned.

Fortunately, because we were renting, I planted my new roses in a grow bag container, not in the ground. So, when we were blindsided by the vacate notice, it was easy to move it to the new place. It was a new plant and hadn’t produced any flowers yet. I was optimistic it would survive and I’d finally get my yellow roses, but until proof of this appeared, the yellow roses were still just a hope, not a reality.

It was astonishing that as soon as we moved everything into this house, the first bud appeared. Even though of course flowers bloom, that’s what they do, it still felt like a breathtaking surprise, as if I was not really expecting to ever see yellow roses. It was glorious! So pretty, dainty, and perfectly yellow- just as I imagined my yellow roses would be!

But then, it opened. And I was amazed at how beautiful it was. This was truly a real rose, not a close copy. I tried to capture it by photographing it and then painting it. I looked outside the window as I painted the rose to see the leaves in real time as well (the flower itself had already faded from its peak glory by the time I finished painting it). In the end, it’s only a representation of what I saw, because there’s nothing that can capture what it feels like to see a rose in person. I hope I came close, and that you can feel the emotion. If I felt uncertain about the love of God blessing my new life, all doubts fell away when this rose opened its lovely pedals. I imagine this spiritual connection to flowers is universally felt by all who feel a connection to nature, regardless of your faith, background, or social status.

We may have to wait a long time for something our heart desires, or for grief to lift. It can take years, and twists and turns we didn’t want to take. We may have to live in places we didn’t want to be, and we may be pushed to go on a new adventure before we are ready. But one day, we will arrive. The time has passed. And we are home. That is when a new yellow rose will open up, the sun will strike upon its glorious color, and we’ll know we are loved by God. Wherever we are sent, in this life or the next, there is something beautiful waiting for us. We are never truly alone, even when it feels like we are. We are never abandoned. We are human beings who feel the weight and burden of time, pain, and fear, that clouds our judgement and burdens our hearts- blocking us from seeing the yellow roses. Until the right time, and my time is now.

I hope you join me on my new painting adventures in my lovely blue home with the red door in Savannah, Georgia! How I got here is complicated. How I’ll live here may be complicated as well. But I know I will have a good life because I choose it. God bless you and your families. Never give up. Always look for your yellow roses to bloom.

New Art Journey

See this angels oil painting come to life in about 1 minute (time lapse video)

I’ve lost track of how many oil paintings I’ve done, but “over 200” is possibly right. My lifetime goal is over 1,000 finished oil paintings, so I’m about 1/5 of the way there. When I get closer to the goal (and after I’ve counted to be more accurate) I’ll add a progress bar to this site. Until then, I’ll just keep adding more paintings to the pile. And for that to happen I need to get back to work! The move has set me back, but I plan to start painting in my new space next week. I have to finish setting it up first.

Every time I’ve moved to a new place my life has changed. Sometimes the shift in my art is dramatic, sometimes subtle, but whether conscious of it or not, I begin a new art journey when I change my life. I’m thinking back to when I painted this angels painting and how it reflected what I was going through at that time.

Mom started developing health problems in her 50s but ignored them. By the time she reached her 60th birthday, she was struggling. I became her caregiver which was emotionally complicated beyond anything I can explain here. She passed away after a dramatic event in the hospital at age 62 that I was present for and traumatized by.

Dad died of cancer 25 years almost to the day, when he was 37. When Mom died it was like losing Dad all over again. My grief journey was as complicated as my caregiving journey, and all of this impacted my art journey.

I painted these angels about a year after Mom died, after we had to sell our house and move due to my husband losing his job when the company he worked for moved operations out of the country. I’ve told parts of this story on this blog several times, because it’s how I became an oil painter. Prior to selling our house, I had a home teaching studio, so I lost my job too when we had to sell it and move.

I’d been teaching dance, theater and art for many years and now everything I’d built up had abruptly ended. I no longer had a classroom and my own kids were outgrowing and losing interest in participating in the business. Why not just do it (art and shows) myself? My college age kids join in occasionally- only as they wish to do so. Most of the time I’m flying solo, no longer a backup singer to my kids or my students, no longer teaching art but painting it, no longer directing shows but performing them. For the past five+ years I’ve been an entrepreneur rather than a teacher and small business owner.

It was a big change, but it feels exactly right. Honestly, my students never had the passion, energy and intense work ethic that I do. I’d have stressed them out if I’d pushed them as hard as I push myself. I managed to teach some valuable things but the program was kept light and fun and tailored to meet each student where they are, whether child, adult, someone with disabilities, or someone with a spark of talent. Our shows were never going to amount to much more than something their families and community enjoyed. And that was enough for me. But it wasn’t enough for my life’s purpose and destiny.

My world was too small, and like it or not (and I did NOT at first! I didn’t want to give up the life I had and I felt very insecure about being in front of the camera rather than behind it) I was meant to move on even though moving (physically, financially, emotionally, and spiritually) is hard. You can probably relate to this. When we are pushed to let go of a life we’ve lost, it’s easy to feel that the old days were better. But the past is only a foundation. The future is where hope lies, and it’s in the present where joy lives.

Even when we’re in a season of grief, there’s a quiet joy that exists deep down, and is reinforced when synchronicity and God connections align. Which brings us back around to the angels. The angels painting was inspired by an unexpected visit by someone I knew a long time ago. The fateful encounter gave me hope. The depth of my sadness during that time is reflected in my art.

I can see that for myself now, although I wasn’t aware of it at the time. I’m offering this particular angels painting as a clear example of what I’m trying to say. My paintings reflect my life and change when I do.

I wonder who I am now as an artist. How is my life changing? How will my art journey change? We’ll find out together. Are you with me?

Joyful Memories!

See oil painting of my son jumping in leaves come alive in 48 seconds (time lapse video)

Moving is so hard and bittersweet. The passage of time is on display with every box that is packed, every room that is emptied. Today we loaded my son’s LEGO collection onto the moving pod. The LEGOs have been shipped to Ireland and back, and have been moved across several different states in the US as well.

He has long outgrown playing with these favorite toys, but keeping them as a collector’s item and to perhaps pass down to children of us own one day is why we still lug these heavy bins of plastic bricks from place to place. These bins contain memories of a boy who loved to build things, and all the hours of joyful play indoors and out. I look forward to seeing where his LEGO bins end up in the future, and the family he will build for himself. One day he too may rake up a pile of leaves- just for his children to jump in.

Bearing Up

See this oil painting of a bear come alive in 2 minutes (time lapse)

The PODS container was dropped off today. I spent hours packing the first round of our household, mostly by myself. I felt victorious, like this bear. I’m STRONG! And now, I’m already sore, LOL! Got a lot done and tomorrow I will have help, which is good because I’ve probably done myself in. Moving heavy things feels amazing during fleeting moments of high adrenaline, but what goes up must come down eventually. I’m crashing- going to bed. Good night, dear friends!

Lead me HOME!

See this City of Savannah oil painting come to life in 2 minutes (time lapse)

When I painted this city of Savannah oil painting, I had no idea that I’d one day live not very far from this fountain square. The lyrics of this song are serendipitous! Fortunately the home I’m headed for is still here on Earth.

I spent the day packing and cleaning for the move, but also doing batch cooking so the family has homecooked meals to heat up over the next few days. The first of two moving PODS will be delivered tomorrow and I’ll likely be too busy and tired to cook. Moving is stressful, and there’s so much other stuff going on to make it a pressure cooker, but this too shall pass and by this time next year I’ll be happy that I’m settled into my new life!

Resistant to Change

Watch this oil painting of a cardinal on a tree branch come to life in about 2 minutes (time lapse)

Well, guess who’s cranky about our unexpected move? Mr. Cardinal. He was giving me the sulky grump face all afternoon because I moved things around on the patio. He sat on my empty potting table (got it ready to sell) and stared through the patio glass at me. He fussed like this until my husband emptied the rest of the bird seeds into all of the feeders. Then he was finally placated. He already had food, but a freshly topped off pile distracted him from the changes to his surroundings on the patio.

I’d hate to think that my brain is the size of a bird’s, but I too have been resistant to change. I’ve moved so many times and I’ve always been in a heightened state that welcomes the challenge- except for this time around. This time I felt blindsided and I didn’t take the news gracefully. We were so close to buying a house. We were planning on staying here only one more year, but the homeowner threw water all over that when she sent the official vacate notice- not renewing the lease. Now all of our plans had to be changed. I did not like this. Not one little bit. One more thing out of my control, after many years of things out of my control. I thought we were able to control this move- we’d move next year, to a house of our own, after working so hard to rebuild our lives.

But no, we’ll have to move TWICE now as we aren’t ready to buy a house- my husband’s new job doesn’t start until after our lease runs out. We have to move into another rental. I must admit, I was as resentful as the cardinal after his forced change of scenery. I sulked. I scowled. And I couldn’t be appeased by birdseed.

It has taken me several days of adjustment to settle down, but in reasonable perspective, I went through the 7 stages of grief very quickly. (“Grief” can be interpreted to be any loss or unwanted change). I’m now on the “acceptance” phase for the most part, although I might slip back occasionally. Meanwhile, there has been actual grief in the midst of this, as I have written a long letter and sent a sympathy card to a family member. I don’t want to get into the details of this for privacy reasons, but it has hit me hard and my heart is heavy with it. Too many unexpected and “died suddenly” deaths, and this one was young (in 30’s).

It’s easy to feel during times like this that “the world is bad, what difference does anything make anyway”, “I’ll never win”, “Bad things always happen to good people”, “Hard work never matters”, “Life will always be hard”, “The goalposts keep moving whenever we get close”, “I always try to kick Lucy’s football- of all the Charlie Browns in the world, I’m the Charlie Browniest”. But the truth tells me a different story.

“Voice of Truth” by Casting Crowns lyric video

“You’ll never win, you’ll never win…But the voice of truth tells me a different story, the voice of truth says ‘do not be afraid.’… Reminding me of all the times I’ve tried before and failed- you’ll never win, you’ll never win, but the voice of truth tells me a different story… Out of all the voices calling out to me I will choose to listen to the voice of truth.”

So, I’m fighting for a win, and I believe things will all work out. Meanwhile, I got a lot done today. I finished part of the Easter show taping, got more plants ready for the sale this weekend, and packed some household items. I also refreshed the rental listings compulsively and obsessively whenever I didn’t keep myself busy enough. Nothing yet. But tomorrow’s another day. And at this point, I’m excited to get moving.

Small Signs of Hope

See this oil painting “God’s Promise” come alive in 2 minutes (time lapse)
See the real life place, real double rainbow in photos I took when a hummingbird flew into it

When I painted the double rainbow painting, I was disappointed that I didn’t paint it in a more realistic way, but it was meant to be a fast project. It was somewhat experimental, using a paper towel to blot and remove some color for a fading effect. It worked to some extent, but not to the level I expected. I could have done it better with a paintbrush. But that really wasn’t the point of that particular project. It told a story, which means it met the objective. I had to drop my personal disappointment and move on to the next painting as it was a heavy painting schedule that year.

Well, it was this painting that someone criticized as “a five year old could have done it”. In isolation, this particular art doesn’t represent the kind of work I’m capable of, or the body of work I have done. I thought about removing this from my collection, but I told myself that if I cannot remain humble enough to show my failures and disappointments, then I have lost my way. So every now and then, when I need a double rainbow painting to tell my story, I will dig this one back up even though I know that it doesn’t impress people who judge my art (and me).

Today I was feeling down because the house we inquired about renting had already been promised to someone else. We were too late, and it was upsetting because I’d reached out to the property management and they didn’t answer me. It is like I don’t exist and don’t matter, when it is their company who has managed the house that is pushing us to vacate- you’d think they’d care a bit more about our situation. It brings up a lot of times in the past when I was forgotten, abandoned, not noticed, rejected, and left to fend for myself. These aren’t happy feelings, but I’ll have to push hard and make myself (my family’s situation) noticed.

So, the stressful ordeal continues. We have two months to find a solution to our housing problem. I was stewing about this when washing our outdoor furniture today, preparing it to sell next weekend during a yard sale. I hope to raise enough funds to cover some of our moving costs, and also let go of things to reduce the load we have to move. It’s just stuff. We’ve let go of our possessions before and we can do it again. At least we get to keep more this time. But even so, you can image that my mood while cleaning our things, for others to take for very little, was not exactly joyful.

I scrubbed the furniture down with a bleach solution made with dishwasher pods and hot water, which worked very well to remove pollen and dirt. Then I hosed everything down while listening to music through my headphones (a luxury I don’t often have because I need to be always available and listening to the household while multi-tasking, but this chore was outdoors and I was alone). As I was spraying the water, I felt the sun on my face and realized that I was relaxed. I was enjoying myself- the beautiful weather, the exercise, the music, and the solitude. Everyone was either inside or at work. It was just me and the water, and my music.

This song was playing by MercyMe. The lyrics in particular at that precise moment were “You were made for so much more than all of this” You’re beautiful, just as a rainbow formed from the spray of water. The rainbow, even though easily explained as basic science- water from the hose was caught by the sun- felt like much more than a random event. The rainbow seemed to float in front of my face because it was windy and the water spray was spraying back at me. It was like it was my personal rainbow, almost ON my person.

“Beautiful” by MercyMe lyric video

I will take this serendipitous experience, the water spray rainbow as the MercyMe song played at that same moment, as a small sign of hope. Everything will turn out OK. We’ll weather through the challenges. And if you are going through a difficult time- may you too feel hope that your situation will soon change for the better.

May God bless you and keep you, may His face shine upon you, and give you peace.

Feeling Froggy?

See this oil painting of a tree frog come to life in about 1 minute (time lapse)

‘Tis the season- the tree frogs are back! I’d seen a few earlier, but they were hiding in the drawer of my potting bench or otherwise hunkered down. Tonight one has appeared as if anchored by suction cups to the patio glass door, which is what frequently happens during tree frog season. Lizards by day, tree frogs by night. The patio door is a happening place!

Are you feeling froggy? The music for this painting video gives off the vibe I’m talking about- just hanging out, being cool. Nothing gets us in a panic. That’s the attitude I’m taking tonight as I know we have to move somewhere fast, and we don’t yet know where that will be, or how much it will cost- only that it will cost a lot more than we’re currently paying because the housing market has spiked (both for buying and for renting).

I found a house today that is the most reasonable I’ve found yet (still about $200 more per month, but that looks good compared to the $500+ per month I’ve been finding!). It’s in the right location and it seems like it could be a good fit for our family. Since it’s hopefully only for a year, we can manage a bit of misery, so it doesn’t have to be a perfect fit- not that anything is ever perfect, but on the sliding scale of “almost” dream house to House of Horrors, I’m fine with it being in the middle. But the catch is that the house won’t be ready until June 21, and we must vacate the end of May.

So, I’ve asked the property management if they could please ask this home owner (where we are currently living) if we could extend our lease until end of June so we have a place to stay until the other rental opens up. She asked, but the owner wants to talk it over with her spouse, and will get back to us “asap”. Apparently ASAP means tomorrow or later because it’s now bedtime and there was no update. I must have refreshed my emails dozens of times today.

If we get permission to stay here for an extra month, the next step is to secure the new rental. So it’s not a done deal even if the home owner of this house says yes. Someone else may have already gotten the rental contract today while we are stuck waiting. I’ll hear about it soon, one way or another.

Meanwhile, I could fret or I could be like a tree frog. Sure, I don’t know where I’m going, or when, but I’m hanging out with my little green friend. I’m sitting here clacking away on the keyboard, talking to you from my computer chair that is close enough to the patio doors that I can almost reach out and touch the glass, while he’s suctioned to the other side. I wonder if he’s listening to me type.

I’ve chosen to give myself a break from worry and I hope you will too. Whatever your source of stress today, put a pause on your anxious thoughts. Racing from one manic thought to another isn’t sustainable. In these challenging times we need to stay strong. I hope you’ll join me in feeling froggy- just hanging out, being cool.

Losses

See oil painting “Come to the Garden” come alive in 2 minutes (time lapse)

Well, we’ve made some progress on decision making after yesterday’s shocking news. Talking with a mortgage officer put some numbers into our heads. There’s good news and bad news. The good news is, after my husband graduates and starts his job, we should be able to qualify for the mortgage range we were hoping for and can start house hunting! The bad news is that we have to vacate this house in about two months and that’s not enough time for him to graduate at the end of this term, take his licensing exam, and start work. We’ll miss the move-out date by two or three months.

Qualifying for a mortgage ahead his job would require a lot of hoops that are discouraging, and would involve a co-signer, higher interest rate, and other disappointing factors. We’d also have to find a house we’d like to make a big commitment to very quickly, from the few homes that are randomly available during this short time frame. So, I highly doubt we will try to push a door open that really isn’t ready yet.

We’re now looking at rental listings. It’s depressing to see how much more money we’ll be spending per month than our current rent. It’s not fun at all to look at the photos and imagine living in yet another place that isn’t ours, is temporary, and where I don’t want to be.

And, my garden! I used portable grow pots and containers, but even so, I can’t move the entire garden to a new location. I have many vegetables and annuals growing in many, many pots. It would be insane to spend a lot of money and physical labor to take them all. And I doubt a homeowner or housing association would be happy with my many, many grow bags. As it is, I don’t want to let go of my potted peach tree, evergreen trees, blueberry bush, grape vines, roses, etc. that are perennials. They are investments in our future.

My trees and flowers will one day flourish at our future new home (assuming they can handle all the moving), and we’ll have a history with these plants; it won’t feel like we don’t have any connection or memories in our new space. So, I’m committed to those and it’s already too much heavy lifting and quite an investment in moving plants- I can’t bring my whole garden! I spent weeks growing the garden and now I won’t get to see it through to harvest. I’ll be having a plant sale to try to recoup some of my losses and fund some of the move. I’ll sell pepper plants, zucchini, eggplant, cucumber, green beans, peas, watermelon and more.

I thought I was helping my family avoid rising food costs and potential shortages, and boosting our nutrition, but it seems I just invested many hours only to invest more hours trying to sell these plants. Sometimes it feels like life beats me down whenever I start to see progress. But the truth is, I did enjoy planting the garden, even though it was work. It gave me a reason to be outside and get exercise. For part of that time, my daughter helped me and we spent good time together. On other occasions my family took my garden “tour” and we ID’d the plants by their seedlings. I did make memories doing this, and I’ve learned how to grow a large garden. I can do it again someday.

But not next season, because we’ll likely be moving again- to our own home! We’ll finally be home again after many years of transitional temporary living. “Temporary” turned out to be a semi-permanent condition. I’m a completely different person from who I was at the start of this. I prefer the new me.

I do wish we’d been able to stay here until next spring, instead of having to move again, but we will get through this. I don’t look forward to the move though, and I dread that first night in the next rental house, when I don’t feel like I’m home. Tossing and turning, smelling unfamiliar smells, possibly having asthma or allergy reactions, jumping at the strange sounds, and feeling disoriented about where things are in the dark- waking up throughout the night, remembering that I’m somewhere new, and wishing I wasn’t.

I will adjust eventually, and then adjust again when we move again. I’ve been through far worse than this. There were times when I wasn’t sure if we’d have any place to go. And there were times when I grieved so bad that I couldn’t imagine ever feeling that life would ever feel good again. Besides my past experiences, world events are incredibly dark and oppressive- my personal struggles are trivial in comparison. This is not a big crisis, and with the right attitude I’ll make the most of it. I will attack each day with positive energy, and even feel excited by the challenge. New adventures are good for us!

But right now, I’m tired from a long day. I’m sad I’m losing my vegetable garden, and other losses (things we can’t bring with us, more money spent on rent, deposit, the cost of moving twice, and more). I’m worried about how this will all come together, and how my family will adjust. Most of all, I just want to be home.

When things like this happen, even if the world is falling apart and others have worse problems, our struggles matter. Even if our past selves had bigger crises, this moment also matters. So I’ll give myself permission to feel disappointed with how things are going. On a happier note, I’m nearly finished with the dress I was making for the Easter show. I bought the basic layer and then built the dress up into an original creation- you’ll see! The show must go on. I’m looking forward to how the troubles of the day are forgotten while painting and singing.