Epiphany Art Studio

Representing the Mess

2012-01-27T17:04:00.000-08:00

Today I continued working on yesterday's art page, and finished it. I went a bit crazy with my spray inks, and also used acrylic paint, paper scraps (including snippets of Psalms 136 and 139), and watercolor crayons and pencils. I quite like the messiness of it, because it represents the utter mess that I am right now.

There is significance to the distinguishable elements of the page. The small face in the bottom right corner is meant to be me in the early days after losing Eve, when I was numb and unable to feel very much. The half face on the top right represents the anger of my grief, and the remaining face represents the feeling of my deepest pain. The bird represents Eve, who I have come to think of as "my little sparrow." And the question -- well, that kind of question is always on my mind these days.

Who am I, this mother without a child? What am I? Who am I becoming?

I hope God knows what He's doing, because I definitely do not. I'll just keep feeling and crying and praying and stumbling about until my vision clears a bit and I realize where He's leading.

"Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
      you formed me in my mother's womb.
   I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!
      Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
      I worship in adoration—what a creation!
   You know me inside and out,
      you know every bone in my body;
   You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
      how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
   Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
      all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
   The days of my life all prepared
      before I'd even lived one day."

~ Psalm 139

**In other news -- the widget for my Etsy shop that is usually at the top of the right sidebar is not working. I've reinstalled the code, but it still doesn't show up. Does anyone know if Etsy Mini is malfunctioning, or how to get mine working again? In the meantime, visit my shop here.

Who

2012-01-26T17:04:00.000-08:00

This is a major question that's been on my mind. I wonder when I will have an answer . . .

From the Ashes

2012-01-25T07:23:00.000-08:00

Remember yesterday's sweet art-in-progress? Here it is again, finished! Or nearly finished, anyway. I may tweak some small things, but otherwise it's good to go. The girl reminds me of a friend's daughter, which makes it especially fun for me.

Something that I'm coming to love about the paint-over-journal technique is that it really exemplifies how beauty can come out of difficult things. The base layer of this creation is my journaling about some really hard feelings. But the result is lovely. Truly, beauty from the ashes.

"But buried deep beneath all our broken dreams we have this hope: out of these ashes beauty will rise and we will dance among the ruins, we will see Him with our own eyes. Out of these ashes beauty will rise, for we know, joy is coming in the morning."

~ Steven Curtis Chapman, Beauty Will Rise

Sweetness in Progress

2012-01-24T12:13:00.000-08:00

Look what's in the works in my studio! It's a paint-over-journal piece in my mixed media notebook, not to mention the first official piece of artwork I've started in 2012 that's not for a class. I love the girl's sweet expression.

It feels great to be making something straight out of my own head and heart. It's been a little too long. I've been getting hung up in perfectionism and fear of being un-perfect (again).

Enough talk. Back to the art-ing I go!

January 20, 2012

2012-01-20T22:29:00.000-08:00

Today was my due date. I expected it to be the worst day of my life. Instead, it was strangely sweet and special through the sadness. Read how over here . . .

Superpowered

2012-01-19T13:29:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I finally finished first assignment for Life Book! I kept putting it off and putting it off because I was afraid that it wouldn't be perfect.

Perfectionism, you say? Yeah, that again.

But yesterday I decided to put an end to my waffling. If I can't take the risk to be un-perfect, how can I ever expect to mature and grow -- not only as an artist, but as a person? So I shoved my ego aside and went to work.

I can't tell you how glad am I that I did. And really, although this creation is not technically perfect, it's perfect for me. I just love it.

The assignment was to create a page that showcased our positive qualities -- or, as Tam put it, our "goddess superpowers." I altered the assignment to fit with my own beliefs, and so I instead reflected upon a few of the many gifts I have received from God.

Here's how it transformed along the way:

Are you participating in Life Book? If so, how is it treating you?

New Art: Let It Fall

2012-01-15T13:54:00.000-08:00

"I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil."

~ J.R.R. Tolkein

This was my first foray into chalk pastels. I had bought a super cheap set at Michaels right after Eve died because I thought that I might be more likely to use those than to paint. But then of course they sat, abandoned, on my bookshelf until last week, when a friend invited me over for a pastel art day. And so, this was born! I loved using the pastels, although my friend had way better colors than the ones in my set. I might have to get some more . . .

Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope Giveaway!

2012-01-12T15:36:00.000-08:00

Faces of Lost, Faces of Hope has included my guest post in their series on creative healing! It just went up today. I am so honored to have been asked to participate (thanks, Beryl!). What a blessing.

I am also giving away one of my art prints, "Grief" (pictured above) as a part of the series. Find my post and and enter the art giveaway here.

Creating & Healing In New Ways

2012-01-10T14:44:00.000-08:00

Since my sweet daughter, Eve, died just over seven weeks ago, I have not made very much art. Mostly this is because I've been busy -- I have been blessed to be surrounded by friends who want to visit and listen and let me lean on them. It has been wonderful, nothing less than a gift straight from the hand of God.

But it's also meant that I haven't had much time to throw myself into art-making. And even when I have had time, I have been hesitant to create in my usual whimsical, big-eyed girls style. I have made one piece in this style since losing Eve, but I've felt to the pull to create outside of this comfort zone -- and to create in ways that are less meticulous.

The mixed media girls that I usually make are often efforts of precision -- the initial sketch requires a lot of erasing and measuring and re-doing. While that is good and well, my grieving brain has wanted something that required less planning and more freedom, more pure doing.

I've already showed you this piece, a sad girl created with the new-to-me drybrush technique, as well as this one, created immediately after Eve's stillbirth. Both felt so good to make, and to not get bogged down in the details.

I've also gotten into pieces that are more functional. Take this frame, for example, an anniversary gift for the Best Inlaws Ever:

And there's also this jewelry box, which I rescued from Goodwill and went to town on with scrap papers and spray ink:

Speaking of ink, I also started this little experiment with alcohol inks. I'm excited to see what it turns into:

Not only has it been really fun to play with new ways of creating, but it's also been very healing. Because I have no expectation of what these new types of pieces can become, I am able to just let go and enjoy the process. I guess that this is another way that God is making beauty out of the ashes of our loss, and out of my pain.

What a gift. I am so blessed.

Because He Wants To

2012-01-09T13:11:00.000-08:00

I got this letter a few days ago. It made my cry grateful tears.

Even though I am only just being able to see it, God has been pursuing me, taking care of me. Sending me the right books, the right words at the right time. Verses that gently guide me back into His Word when I am afraid of what I will find there. This letter.

He is bringing me to life. Looking back to before Eve died, I wonder if I was not truly awake to life until now.

He has been healing my bitterness, and my capacity for bitterness. He has made me able to sing again, sing for joy and thanksgiving and praise. Sing without angry tears and acid pain.

He is giving me new eyes that see with searing clarity just how much pain there is in the hearts of humankind, how much of a need for grace and Life. This gift breaks me in just the right way and sends me to my knees, sends me running into His arms.

And He has been building up my heart, regrowing new flesh over the torn-away bits. The new flesh does not make the wound disappear, does not undo the amputation of my sweet Eve, but it makes me feel that I might just be okay in the end.

He doesn't have to do this. I certainly don't deserve it. My emotional flailing these past seven weeks has not always been very honoring to Him. But He does it anyway, because He wants to.

Because He wants to.

Can you believe it?

I can't help it -- my soul sings gratitude.

"I would prefer to take my chances living in a universe in which I get what I do not deserve-again, either way. That means that I will suffer loss, as I already have, but it also means I will receive mercy. Life will end up being far worse than it would have otherwise been; it will also end up being far better. I will have to endure the bad I do not deserve; I will also get the good I do not deserve. I dread experiencing undeserved pain, but it is worth it to me if I can also experience undeserved grace. . . .

"So, God spare us from a life of fairness! To live in a world with grace is better by far than to live in a world of absolute fairness. A fair world may make life nice for us, but only as nice as we are. We may get what we deserve, but I wonder how much that is and whether or not we would really be satisfied. A world with grace will give us more than we deserve. It will give us life, even in our suffering."

~ Jerry Sittser, A Grace Disguised

Here We Are

2011-12-29T08:24:00.000-08:00

I painted this yesterday, on a sketchbook cover, during one of Amy’s free classes. She guided us through some new-to-me techniques I found very exciting. I enjoyed the new learning.

But what I enjoyed even more was how good it felt to make this. Although I’ve painted and drawn one time each since Eve died, those attempts didn’t really feel like much. I think that perhaps I was still in shock over my daughter’s death, because I did both within a week or two of losing her — a time when I wasn’t able to feel much at all, I can now see.

Yesterday, however, was a different story. I was not focused on what the painting looked like, but on the act of painting itself. With each brush stroke I felt like I was pushing my pain into the substrate, crying out my grief with paint instead of tears.

And it felt right to make a really sad girl — and the resulting girl certainly does look horribly sad. In some ways, I feel that this is a painting of me.

But at the same time, it’s not. Because the girl I painted looks lost in despair, in a kind of living death. That is not how I feel. God has saved me from that, at least.

I do, however, feel lost in pain and absence at times. Confused about the future, since I had thought I was going to be a homeschooling mama for the next twenty years. Afraid at what awful thing might be around the corner — because in our four short years of marriage, the Best Husband Ever and I have gone through hell in the forms of an eating disorder, depression, and near-divorce.

The hardest thing about grief (so far, anyway) are the wild swings of emotions. I can feel perfectly normal, even happy, for days at a time — only to crash suddenly, and crash hard. It’s frustrating, and scary. I wish that I could just be sad consistently, because then I would know what to expect from each day of this journey. And while the crashes are painful and terrifying, the periods of normalcy are awful in their own way, because how can I feel so fine when my daughter is dead? When her body, instead of continuing to dance and live and grow within me toward her January birth, is a pile of plastic-housed ash on my shelf? Sometimes I worry that I’m going insane.

But I don’t think that my experiences are unusual. Terrible, perhaps, but not singular. I am not alone. That is why I scribbled the words “here we are” on the side of this painting— because I am not the only one here in this place of pain and confusion. Although I would never wish this experience on anyone, I am so glad that I am alone. Here we are, hearts amputated, all together.

New in the Shop: "Grief" Fine Art Print

2011-12-27T20:10:00.000-08:00

My original mixed media creation, grief, is now available as an archival Giclee print. Find it in my Etsy shop here. I created this piece immediately following the death and stillbirth of our first child, Eve, at 31 weeks of pregnancy. While nothing can ever bring her back or fill her place, making art helps -- and sharing that art and the pain helps even more. My hope is that viewers of this print will feel encouraged by the fact that, as horrible as babyloss is, don't have to suffer alone.

As always, this print comes with free shipping. Get your copy here.

The First Christmas, Part Two

2011-12-25T23:10:00.000-08:00

Today was supposed to be our last Christmas before our first child was born into our world. Instead, it was our first Christmas without the daughter we had hoped for. I expected to be lost in grief today.

But it wasn't like that. Instead of darkness, instead of heaviness, God brought us joy for Christmas. Impossible, miraculous joy.

I expected a day drowned by tears. But instead I was buoyed laughter and gratitude and music and love. Celebration. The best Christmas I have ever experienced.

How is this possible?

The only answer I can scrape together is that today, perhaps, I have finally experienced what Christmas really is: the impossible gift.

I am blessed.

Read The First Christmas, Part One . . .

The First Christmas

2011-12-24T13:25:00.000-08:00

Today should have been our last Christmas. Our last Christmas before a lifetime of Christmases with our soon-to-be-here daughter, our first child. This was supposed to be our last Christmas without children. It was to be the last milestone before her birth. I should have been rubbing my humongous belly and happily bemoaning swollen ankles and a squashed bladder and baby kicks keeping me up nights.

Instead, our child is dead, stillborn. This Christmas is still a marker, a milestone, but not in the way that I expected. Instead of being the last date of joyful expectancy before our two grew into three, it is the first in a lifetime of anniversaries and milestones that remind us that we are missing a much-loved part of our family. It is the first Christmas in a life forever changed by the first-hand knowledge of how wrong things can go. It is my first Christmas with an amputated heart.

This is made all the more difficult by the fact that on Christmas we celebrate birth. We celebrate a pregnancy that was even more God-breathed than most, and we celebrate the Savior-Child that was born. Everywhere I go I hear songs of the coming baby, of Mary's joy, of arms cradling life.

It is hard.

But then I remember -- this Child came to die. His one purpose on this earth was to die, and to save us by His death. What's more, His Father let Him go to this death, a death marked by horror and inhumanity and betrayal. I can't imagine, can't imagine the screaming pain of choosing that for your child. The hurt of my own child's loss is so deep, so pervasive, and she was only taken from me. If I had chosen to let her die . . . the pain of that choice is unfathomable to me.

To read the rest of this post, follow me to my other blog . . .

The Beginning of Grief

2011-12-23T11:22:00.000-08:00

“God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of 'parties' with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.”

~ Sylvia Plath

Yesterday we received the professional photos taken of us and Eve at the hospital. I have been looking forward to viewing this photos since we arrived home, without her. I couldn't wait to see her again.

But yesterday when I finally got to look at the photos, it was not a happy occasion. It was horrible.

I think I expected too much from these photos. Maybe I thought I was going to get to experience Eve again. Maybe some part of me even thought that, if I could just look at the photos, she wouldn't really be dead.

But I looked, and she is dead.

Looking at the photos is not the same as looking at her.

To read the rest of this post, follow me to my other blog . . .

2012 Calendars Are Here!

2011-12-19T14:27:00.000-08:00

My 2012 calendar, Small Epiphanies, is now on sale via RedBubble! The calendar is size A3 (297 x 420mm / 11.7” x 16.5”) and features:

full color renderings of my mixed media artwork digitally printed on 200 gsm satin paper
a thick, sturdy cover
a durable spiral binding with a hanger
a thrifty way to sample a large variety of my artwork!

You can preview all twelve months of Small Epiphanies and/or purchase your copy here. Thanks!

Find out what is happening in my life on my other blog . . .

One Month Later

2011-12-18T00:48:00.000-08:00

So, here it is. One month beyond giving birth to death.

It seems impossible that already a month has passed -- that only a month has passed. Is it December? Life stood still on the birthday of my daughter on November 20, two days after she died.

We got our autopsy results this week. Nothing was discovered, nothing could be named as the cause. She's perfect, my nurses and doctor kept saying after she left my body. Perfect, except for being dead.

The lack of cause is frustrating, but also encouraging. It means that nothing could have been done, that there was no way to predict this -- and, God willing, that there is no reason why it should happen again.

Not to us, please. Not again.

Every day is filled with a thousand tiny reminders of what we've lost, a thousand opportunities to feel physical pain at the refreshing of grief. Invisible knife wounds in my chest, my stomach, again and again and again. I don't know why I don't bleed.

To read the rest of this post, follow me to my other blog . . .

Tangled Faith

2011-12-17T00:43:00.000-08:00

“Oh God, God, why did you take such trouble to force this creature out of its shell if it is now doomed to crawl back -- to be sucked back -- into it?”

~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Thoughts and questions of faith are filling me up. Yesterday, a friend asked the Best Husband Ever and I how losing Eve has and is affecting our faith. Such a difficult, profound question. How can I tell of the complexity of hope and fear and doubt and love occupying my every breath? But it is one that every part of me longs to be answered.

To read the rest of this post, follow me to my other blog . . .

Honesty + Blog Changes

2011-12-14T15:03:00.000-08:00

God, I love you.

I hate that Eve is dead, that for whatever reason You didn't save her life. But I love You and all that You seem to be (merciful, saving, loving, deeply caring -- and more that I don't yet know or cannot fathom). And I know that she is with You, safe. Complete, as the Best Husband Ever murmured to me in the hospital as we said good-bye to our precious first child, our only daughter.

I have hope for her. That hope is strong.

But my hope for me . . . that is not as strong. There is much fear.

To read the rest of this post, follow me to my other blog . . .

I have decided to consolidate my blogs. This blog will now be solely for business-related items, such as spreading the word about new art pieces, new listings on Etsy, and sales. This will no longer be as much about my life, especially now that so much heaviness has happened.

However, I would LOVE it if you could follow me over to my main blog, friends. It has meant so much to me to be able to share this difficult time with you and be uplifted. Thank you so much.

What you can expect to find on my main blog: writings on life, faith, art, healing, grace, God, and love. Much like this Epiphany Art blog, except that the main blog's name and address give me more flexibility to write what I need to be writing. Here, I feel constricted to write only about art.

I treasure each and every one of you. It has been so wonderful to share my art-making adventures with you, as well as the tragic loss of our precious daughter. As I said, it would mean so much to me if you followed me over to my main blog, where most of my writing for the foreseeable future will be. However, if you don't feel up to it, I understand. Thank you for being a part of my life. I am so grateful for you.

Love, Beth

Dear Eve

2011-12-12T13:23:00.000-08:00

I took the dogs to the mountains today. It was the first time I'd been there since you died. I didn't expect the usual trails to make me sad, but they did, because you and I walked them together so many times.

How strange that the ground is frozen hard, that the paths I walked today are covered in snow that you will never see, never play in, never build dream castles and hideaways from. How is it that you do not know snow, but you do know death?

How is it that the world goes on and on, and I cannot leave the moment that I said good-bye to you?

And it's not just snow that you'll never experience, but breath and sun and night and grass. The bristling softness of your dog-brothers' fur. Your father's arms. My skin against yours.

We had plans for you. You were supposed to keep us up nights, to learn to laugh, to walk. We were supposed to be curly-haired together. You were supposed to snuggle with you daddy at night, to giggle at the silly faces he'd make.You were supposed to make fun of our quaintness as we grew old and wrinkled.

It seems impossible that you've traveled the expanse from life to death before us.

The sun seems too bright, the snow too pristine for these feelings I have. How can the world look so beautiful, but my chest feel so hollow?

It's a curious dichotomy:

In the midst of deepest pain,
Life

despite death, hope

and Love --
love that will not fail

Though I feel that I am drowning in sorrow, I feel sure that I will not be lost. When I feel alone, I am surrounded. Although death has claimed you, I cannot feel sad because you are where I long to be, safe in His arms.

I miss you. I missed you on my walk today -- my walk that should have been our walk, you safe inside me, me safe from the knowledge of how fast, how silently everything can go wrong.

I cannot stop missing you. I don't think I will ever stop missing you.

But.

The story does not end here. I am sure of this, even while I am sure of nothing else. The final word on the final page of the Story that weaves through all stories is hope.

I can't help but trust in that.

Asking Why

2011-12-06T12:12:00.000-08:00

And you don't realize how good you have it
There are things worse than sleepless nights with cranky infants
There are sleepless nights alone

~ Stephanie Paige Cole

I am starting to feel that all this is very unfair. I can accept that bad things happen, that we live in a broken world, that tragedy strikes. What I am starting to have a hard time with, however, is that this particular bad thing happened to us.

When there are women aborting their babies . . .

When there are parents who don't want to be parents . . .

When there are parents who shouldn't be parents, who harm their children . . .

When there are probably thousands of people who would be glad for a miscarriage or stillbirth to end their unwanted pregnancy . . . why did this happen to us? Why were we the one pregnancy out of two hundred that ended a baby dead before she breathed? Why, when we loved our daughter so deeply and wanted her in our live so desperately, was she the one that had to die?

I know that there are no answers, nor a reason behind Eve's death other than that bad things happen. It helps when I remember that God knows this pain -- that He lost a child, too. The cross has taken on a whole new meaning. And I know that my baby is with God, and I can only be happy about that. I am not sad for her.

But I am sad for me, and for my husband. I am sad because we didn't just lose a child -- we lost an entire future. I am grieving not only Eve, but also how I will never see her evolve into a woman, that I will never make her a birthday cake, that our house will never be filled with her laughter and burbles and tears. I am sad because I am a mother without her child. I am sad because I don't know what will become of me now.

I am sad because I have lost the safe naivete that pregnancy always ends happily. I am sad because the joy of pregnancy is forever ruined for me, because any future pregnancies will be exercises in staving off terror. I am sad because I have learned in the hardest of ways just how precious life is, and that makes me nearly dissolve with fear at more loss, especially of any future children we might have.

I am sad because we wanted our daughter. We wanted her so badly. And now she's gone. How can I ever feel safe again?

I know that there are no answers -- well, nearly. There is God. There is always God. I am so happy that, even with her tiny life, our Eve turned so many eyes to Him. And while it is tempting to let the swelling fear overwhelm me, I know that He will carry me through -- through this moment, the coming months, any future pregnancies, and beyond. He is big enough to withstand my questions, my anger, my broken sobs that come in the morning.

Is that -- is He -- an answer to my "why" questions, to my sadness? I don't know. I just know that He is enough.

Two Weeks Later

2011-12-03T17:36:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago, my husband and I were preparing to check into the hospital to birth our dead daughter. It seems impossible that just fifteen days ago life was normal, unmarked by tragedy. That my biggest concern was whether I'd continue to fit into my maternity pants until January 20, our due date. I look back at photos from that time, that before-she-died time, and feel afraid. It seems like such an awful thing should be preceded by a feeling of dread, an ominous portent, but instead my photos are peaceful, perhaps even naive.

These past two weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions for me. I have felt so many things -- from numb shock to sorrow to fear to anger to the loneliness of grief. I've even felt almost normal at times, which seems shocking to admit. I've been trying to get out of the house regularly, to not isolate myself, but going out into the world hurts. It feels too rough and cold and cheerful all at the same time. It hurts. I hurt.

But yesterday I drew for the first time since we lost Eve. I had been afraid that any attempts to make art in the same whimsical mixed media style would be painful. Would remind me of how much had been lost. So I had been putting it off . . . but yesterday I felt ready, and gave it a try.

It felt good. Not painful, not draining. Instead, it felt healing. It felt like coming back to myself, the person that I was before all this happened. I am so grateful.

It is so hard, this hurting, this losing. And there is so much fear, which is something I did not expect -- fear of what will become of me, of my marriage, of what kind of mother I could possibly be after this should we ever be able to have a surviving child. But there has also been grace and mercy, again unexpected and both larger than the fear. God has not pulled away from my tears, from my questions, but instead I feel Him more closely. The same is true for my marriage -- this loss has bound my husband and I together even more sweetly, another unlooked for gift. And on top of all that my physical situation has been surprising; there was/is minimal soreness and bleeding, and my breast milk dried up in less than the projected two weeks.

Seemingly small mercies become large, and deep pain becomes bearable, even surprisingly survivable -- that seems to be the prevailing lesson of these past weeks. Sometimes I wonder if I will make it through this intact, but most times I feel certain that I will. I will be okay. Everything will. This story does not end with death and grief. It ends with God and life and peace and completion. The truth of that holds back the darkness.

Thank you so much for the sweet words you left on my last post. Your encouragement and sympathy and, for some, tragically knowing empathy are precious to me. Thank you for letting you share my story with you, even (or perhaps especially) the hard parts.

Eve

2011-11-28T09:57:00.000-08:00

Last week we had a heartbreaking thing happen -- we lost our baby at 31 weeks of pregnancy. On Friday, November 18, I noticed that I had not felt her kick in a while, so we went to the hospital. After investigating, our doctor confirmed what I could already see on the ultrasound machine's screen -- our baby had died.

We went home that night, and spent Saturday making sure that our dogs had a home for the weekend, tidying up the house, and packing for our hospital stay. On Saturday night, we checked into labor and delivery and began the process of inducing labor. From Saturday night through Sunday morning, our loving nurses placed pills near my cervix in order to ripen it. I began to get very uncomfortable, and at ten o' clock on Sunday morning I received an epidural that eased me greatly.

At noon we started the pitocin drip, stimulating contractions. The contractions came on fast and strong, and I began to feel them quite intensely on my left side in spite of the epidural. I received an extra boost on the epidural, which ended up coming just in time for delivery. I began to feel intense pressure as our baby started to crown. Our nurses and doctor cried with us as I delivered our little one in three pushes. She was born at 3:43 PM on Sunday, November 20. She was seventeen inches long and weighed three pounds and three ounces. We named her Eve.

As I had requested earlier, they took Eve away to bathe and clothe her, then shortly returned her to us. First my husband held her and showed her to me, and I sobbed, thinking how dead she looked. But then something in me shifted, and I began to see how beautiful she was. Soon I was cradling our daughter in my arms, so in love with this little person that we will never truly know. She had my husband's face and my dark curly hair and the longest, most graceful fingers.

My husband and I feel so blessed that we have friends and family that lovingly surrounded us during this time. They visited us regularly at the hospital both before and after Eve was born, and many of them got to hold her. I am so glad that we got to share her with them.

Soon, however, Eve's body began to deteriorate. Stillborn babies' skin is very delicate, and from our handling of her she began to look more dead. I felt okay with this, though -- it left no room for delusions that we could keep her, that she could stay with us. Sometime around 8:00 Sunday evening, the Best Husband Ever and I said our good-byes to our little girl.

After discussing our options with our doctor, we decided to have an autopsy and genetic testing done to see if a reason for Eve's death can be found. However, we are expecting there to be no known cause -- at this late of gestation, we learned, the main causes of death are cord complications, preexisting conditions in the mother, or some other obvious physical problem with the baby -- none of which were present in our situation.

Although this is a tragedy and hard to bear, we are not blind to the many blessings we have experienced over this past week: friends and family standing with us, praying, loving us, crying when we couldn't, supporting us at our weakest -- extraordinarily loving nurses who were an answer to prayer -- the fact that Eve was beautiful and largely unblemished, something that is not true for all stillborn babies -- a fast and easy delivery without complications . . .

. . . and, of course, the God who is big enough. Who knows what it means to lose a child. Who can withstand our anger and questions, should those ever emerge. Who hurts with us. Who loves us.

We are so blessed.

This weekend we held a memorial for Eve at our church. Again, our friends and family surrounded us in a profoundly empathetic way. At the service, our pastor read an email I had written earlier in the week. I had decided to give him the email to do with as he liked -- to read all or part of, or just let it inform his own words -- because it was written without any thought of being shared with the world, and so is the truest thing I can say about this experience. I've been asked to post it, and so here it is, with photos of our remembrances of little Eve to follow:

We're home now. Leaving the hospital felt absolutely glorious, but coming home was hard. Most of our baby-related stuff is closed up in our spare bedroom, which is good for now, but I know that dealing with it will be hard when the times comes.

I am so grateful for the people in our lives -- you and our other friends and family have surrounded us in such a special way. I feel so blessed. God is good.

I am especially blessed by my husband. I already knew that he is the Best Husband Ever for me, but he is proving that even more true every moment. I am so thankful that he is the one I get to walk through this with. He has been so gentle and open and giving.

We have been getting visits from friends and family really regularly since Saturday evening, but we are setting aside today to just be alone together with God and our feelings and the memory of little Eve. Tomorrow we have a doctor's appointment and perhaps some more visits. We'll be spending Thanksgiving with J's family and my mom, and we are going to have a memorial for Eve at church on Friday morning.

After that . . . I feel like that is when the real hard stuff will begin. When it's easy for other people to heal and move on, but we (or even just I) still feel so much sadness. Our nurse at the hospital gave us some reading on grief, and one of the papers said that we should expect the grieving process to take up to two years. I can't imagine. It feels too long.

But.

I also don't feel like that takes God into account. Of course we are still early on in the process, so maybe things will get much worse than I can imagine...but I can't help but trust God. I feel like Edmund in the The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, when monsters are howling around him and the White Witch is shrieking condemnation and hate at him...and Edmund is simply gazing at Aslan. Because that's all that he can do. Because that's the best that he can do.

I don't know if that makes sense...but I know that God promised that He will never leave us or forsake us, and now I find that that is the only sure thing I have right now. Because the life-giving attention of our friends and family will fade, because they are only human. Because J might heal from this far faster than I do, leaving me alone in experiencing these feelings. Because I might lose J, too (this is a very big fear right now). Because nothing in this whole world lasts except God.

I don't know why the promise of God to never leave us never felt real until now. Maybe I relied too much on feeling Him emotionally instead of trusting Him in all ways (intellectually when emotion failed, as it always does). Maybe I never really believed that He would back up His promises. I don't know...but now I know that nothing else is permanent except His promises. It's so comforting.

So far we have been pretty protected from asking the "why" questions -- Why would God let this happen? Why isn't He good enough/big enough/loving enough to give us back our daughter? I don't know -- those questions just seem empty. We can't know why God let this happen. But I also don't believe that God will waste this. I mean, I feel like He predominantly uses hard things or "bad" things to shape us, to draw us close, to change our hearts so that we can change the world, even if just in some small way. So while I don't know if there is a particular meaning or reason behind Eve's death, I don't feel like this opportunity will be wasted by God. I know that I already feel my faith being strengthened by this (at least in some ways...in other ways, it's easy to doubt...but I wonder if those doubts will ease as I heal) -- and I know that God has been using infant-related hardships to shape our church family over the past year or year and a half. My hope is that Eve's death will help draw my parents and other unbelieving family members closer to God so that He can heal their hearts and lives. And those are just the things that I can see from here -- who knows how far the ripples of this could spread. I am hopeful.

Black Friday Sale

2011-11-25T08:42:00.000-08:00

Hi, blog friends. I hope that you had a peaceful and lovely Thanksgiving. Today I'm offering a discount in my Etsy shop with the coupon code BLACKFRIDAY11. Enjoy!

Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T20:10:00.000-08:00

"Thankfulness takes the sting out of adversity. That is why I have instructed you to give thanks for everything. There is an element of mystery in this transaction: You give me thanks (regardless of your feelings), and I give you Joy (regardless of your circumstances). This is a spiritual act of obedience -- at times, blind obedience. To people who don't know Me intimately, it can seem irrational and even impossible to thank Me for heartrending hardships. Nonetheless, those who obey Me in this way are invariably blessed, even though difficulties may remain.

Thankfulness opens your heart to My Presence and your mind to My thoughts. You may still be in the same place, with the same set of circumstances, but it is as if a light has been switched on, enabling you to see from My perspective. It is this Light of My Presence that removes the sting from adversity."

From Jesus Calling

Image source.

Creative Vertigo

2011-11-17T17:28:00.000-08:00

She's finished! At last! A few months ago, a woman from my church asked me to create an identity portrait for her daughter (to learn more about my custom identity portraits, click here). After we met and discussed what she wanted, I felt excited to begin . . . and then procrastinated working on the portrait for the next two months. Deadlines are powerful motivators, however, and so after a few weeks of hard work, praying, and persistence . . . I finished the portrait!

I am really quite proud of how this turned out. This is the first time that I've ever created a custom identity portrait for a person that I have not met, so it was quite a unique challenge -- and one that created more than a little stress. On top of that, this commission was the first that I'd taken for which I charged the "full price" that I felt honored my work on the portrait. I felt afraid that I wouldn't be able to deliver a product that was worth the price tag, and feared if my church friend felt my work was not worth the price that our relationship would be permanently damaged.

Really, I need not have worried, because I would never deliver a portrait that was not created with buckets of love, prayer, and attention (and, um, a hefty dose of perfectionism!). And because I poured myself into this painting, lingering over the smallest details, of course it turned out well. And not only well -- I love the finished product! My favorite part of the process is watching the artwork unfold beyond your own plans . . . although that does involve a bit of creative vertigo along the way!

All that to say -- she's finished! My latest identity portrait is finished, designed with my church friend's daughter in mind, created to encourage and uplift. And not only is my church friend pleased, but I find that I am lifted up by the entire experience as well, vertigo and all.

Care to follow along with the process? Here's what happened:

What an adventure! I stitched this mixed media identity portrait together with with acrylic paint, watercolor crayons, graphite, marker, gel pen, lace, ribbon, paper flowers, ephemera, and, of course, lots and lots of love.

What has your latest [vertigo-inducing] experience been?

Something New . . .

2011-11-16T06:03:00.000-08:00

In this week's Gratitude Monday post, I mentioned that I found some inspiring new art blogs. I was particularly talking about Amy McDonald's blog and free online classes. Yes, you read that right -- free. And these classes are pretty amazing. It's clear that Amy loves art, and loves to teach.

Plus, it's refreshing to find someone who is willing to create community and share information without putting a price tag on those things. Wow. I feel inspired for when/if I ever teach my own art classes. I'll say it again -- wow.

On top of the classes she offers at her Ning site, Flutterbye, Amy also teaches live art classes via an online video chat room. It looks like these classes are held about once every week or so (check out Amy's blog for future classes). When I saw that there was a class scheduled yesterday, of course I had to take part in it.

And . . . it was super fun. Mostly because I felt like I was participating in a live art class. As I've written about before, I love painting while someone is chatting in the background, and this class offered the bonus of being able to respond via text. Plus, Amy is really awesome. She makes me want to dreadlock my hair.

The goal for the class was to paint something ugly just for the enjoyment of painting, and not to show off. So I started sliding paint across my paper, not really hoping for much and fully expecting to hate the end result.

But I didn't. In fact, I actually kind of love the finished product (that's it up there at the top of this post). It's not profound or deep or ultra-lovely . . . but it's something new, something different from my usual creations, and that's what I like about it. I like that I was willing to try. Plus, I discovered a new color combination that makes me really happy -- turquoise + red. Delicious.

All this to say . . . Amy's art community is worth checking out. I'll definitely be participating in her upcoming live classes. And maybe I'll even start painting abstracts on my own more regularly.

Do you create outside of your comfort zone? If so, how does it make you feel? And if not, why not?

Making Progress

2011-11-15T08:38:00.000-08:00

Remember when I last posted about a couple of new creations that were in progress? Like, a really long time ago? Well, I finally got back to working on the still-unfinished piece. Here's what it looks like now:

It's not quite done yet, but I'm pleased with the progress. It's a new art-venture for me, seeing as I've never a) included landscape in a piece, or b) painted someone from the back. So I'm excited just for the trying that's happening here.

I'm sorry for my semi-absence from the blog this last week or so. It's so busy here. This past weekend my parents visited, which put a halt to all creative projects. It was a nice visit, but I'm glad to have more time to create. This week I'll be focusing my energies on a custom identity portrait for a customer, which I'm hoping to share the finished version of in just a few days. Exciting!

What are you working on?

Snowy Gratitude Monday

2011-11-14T10:15:00.000-08:00

#261... cornbread in the oven
#262... playing mancala with my niece
#263... snow!
#264... joyful visiting at church
#265... more snow!
#266... Cody romping in the snow . . .
#267... . . . then snuggling on the couch with me afterward
#268... the chihuahua's jubilant morning flailing
#269... discovering inspiring new art blogs

On Mondays, I catch you up on the beautiful gifts -- both large and small, hard and comfortable -- that God has been throwing my way. Read more about my gratitude adventure here, and start your own One Thousand Gifts adventure by clicking on the banner below.

What are you feeling grateful for today?

My New Art Space

2011-11-08T11:48:00.000-08:00

As I've written about before, I don't have a permanent space in which to get creative. First, my "studio" started out as a desk in our spare bedroom, but that bedroom has since been taken over by our soon-to-be-here baby's things. So I packed up all of my art supplies into suitcases, and began using the kitchen table as my art space. While the light is great in our kitchen, it's not conducive to daily creative time because after every art-making session I have to clean up -- meaning that it's really hard for my mind to keep working on a project.

This weekend, the Best Husband Ever and I came up with a solution. When he bought a folding table to house computers and printers on in the basement, I wondered out loud if I could have a permanent art table down there, too. He said it was worth trying, so we got a second folding table and set it up.

And -- it's awesome. In the last two days, I've made more progress on a commissioned identity portrait than I have in months. I can pop over to the table for an hour of painting, leave it to let my mind mull things over, and then return later in the day. Before, the absence of a permanent art space meant that I'd haul out all my supplies for a marathon art session that left me feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. And while marathon art sessions are sometimes fun, my mind works better with smaller chunks of time.

So, in short, I love my permanent art table! Right now it's just hanging out in front of some bookshelves, but we plan to move those once I decide that the spot is a good permanent location for the table. One day I'd love to have a well-lit room to make into my very own studio, but for now I'm in love!

Where do you create?

[Chilly] Gratitude Monday

2011-11-07T10:06:00.000-08:00

#184... restful sleep
#185... Cody on his bed, curled, with nose tucked beneath his tail
#186... feelings of expectancy
#187... reading in John 1 how Jesus didn't just call the 12 disciples -- He already knew them
#188... being more than 29 weeks pregnant!
#189... the rising sun's light touching only certain mountain peaks
#190... showering
#191... buying tables at Wal-Mart with the Best Husband Ever
#192... Lio stretching tall against me for petting
#193... playing cards with loved ones when it's cold outside

What are you feeling grateful for today?

Magical

2011-11-05T07:10:00.000-07:00

It started snowing here last night, and was still going when I let the dogs out this morning. I wonder if the above photos are the last we'll see of bare ground and leaves until April! Not that I'm complaining -- there is something so magical about snow, especially the early snowfalls. Even with all our window shades closed, the falling snow makes the house just feel different, makes life seem more special.

Plus, the snow gives me the perfect excuse to stay indoors and do some serious (or seriously fun...!) art-making today. I haven't made anything in a week because I've been feeling intermittently exhausted or, ah, lazy. Oops! But today my blood is thrumming for a creative day -- especially after staying up late to read Art Saves -- and I'm not going to fight it.

Happy weekend! Do you have any plans -- or snow?

Don't forget -- I am holding a special sale on my entire shop that ends this SUNDAY, November 6 (I extended it by a day!). Get 10% off your purchase when you enter the code NOV2011MARKET (no spaces) at checkout (more details here).

Goodbye, Autumn?

2011-11-03T15:21:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I raked our front yard, even though not all the leaves have fallen. The weatherman is predicting our first real snow for this weekend (even though we already had some scattered snowflakes over the past two weeks). Last year early snows surprised us and left us raking this spring, so this time around I'd at least like to get as much of what's already fallen out from beneath the snow as possible. So I raked.

And as I raked, I thought about autumn. About how it's very likely that this beautiful, wonderful, best-of-all season is almost over. After all, we made it to November without any snow accumulation, which is not something that I've seen in Montana since moving here five years ago. But autumn is my favorite season, and the winters here get very, very long.

So, as I raked, I couldn't help wondering -- shouldn't I be sad? Because I usually am when forced to bid fall farewell. Because going months without sun is hard, especially for those of us suffering from depression or SAD. Because snow is only magical until it turns gray and hard and freezes my spirit.

But I don't feel sad. Not even a little. And I have to ask myself -- why??

The only answer I can come up with is God. God changing my mind, changing my heart, changing what I think about big and small "bad things" and "bad times." God changing everything.

And after that, I can only whisper, a thousand times over -- thank you.

How do you feel about the encroaching winter? Has any snow fallen on you yet?

On a business note: I am adding new items to my Etsy shop all the time in preparation for the holiday shopping season. What's more, I am holding a special sale on my entire shop that ends this Saturday, November 5. Get 10% off your purchase when you enter the code NOV2011MARKET (no spaces) at checkout (more details here). Thanks, friends! Enjoy the snow if you get any!

Holiday Market Update + A Shop Discount

2011-11-02T15:55:00.000-07:00

Last week I shared that I would soon be selling my art at my first-ever live holiday arts and crafts market. Well, I did it! Now that I have finally recovered sufficiently from the mad work that it took to get ready for the market, I can say it was fun. Really fun, actually. While I didn't make much money, I did make some new friends, see some beautiful handmade creations, and of course gain the experience of actually selling my artwork in person. I'm glad I did it!

Now I'm looking for more markets to participate in. Unfortunately, they seem to either be very hard to track down, or they have exorbitant registration fees. I think that there could be one more holiday market in my future, thanks to the detective of my mother-in-law, but otherwise I'll focus on getting ready to sell at the spring and summer street market.

In honor of my recent new adventure, I'm holding a sale in my Etsy shop. From now through Saturday, November 5, 2011, you can receive 10% off my entire shop by entering the code NOV2011MARKET at checkout.

Enjoy, blog friends! Thanks for being a part of my story, and thank you especially for all the kind comments on my last post. You are all amazing and wonderful!

Have you been doing anything adventurous lately?

Gratitude Monday

2011-10-31T10:30:00.000-07:00

#123... knowing that God never leaves me
#124... feeling clean and lovely
#125... preparing for labor and parenthood by reading Birthing From Within
#126... knowing that God is in control...
#127... ...and that I don't have to be
#128... nurturing the Best Husband Ever and being nurtured by him
#129... Sunday night dinner with the Best Inlaws Ever
#130... treating myself to some soda
#131... a crazy snowstorm in the northeast ushering in winter
#132... the Best Husband Ever
#133... hot lemon water in the morning

What are you feeling grateful for today?

Epiphany Art, In Person

2011-10-27T13:11:00.000-07:00

I feel so excited right now -- and also a bit nervous. Why? Because today I am selling my art, prints, and cards at my first-ever live market! This evening, I will be manning my table at a local holiday market. It's a small market, and so I think it's perfect for my first live business venue. But wow -- I can't believe that I'm doing this! What an adventure!

For the past couple of days, I have been busily gathering everything I need to decorate my table. I've also been printing out loads of cards, and I ordered some small giclee prints from iPrintfromHome which look absolutely gorgeous in their detail and quality. I'll also be offering four original pieces. I hope that they find homes with the right people!

My goals for this market are, I think, fairly reasonable, especially for my first time out. I want to:

hand out loads of business cards
get people signed up for my newsletter (you can sign up by entering your email address in the widget in the right sidebar of this blog, and you'll receive periodic notifications of special discounts, news, and events)
make back the money I spent getting ready for the market

And, of course, I want to have fun! As I already said, I'm super excited. And I'm so proud of myself for simply trying -- for putting myself and my art out there, for taking a risk, for allowing a new experience to enrich my life.

I think it will be good.

Here I go . . .!

p.s. Stand by for a post-holiday-market sale in my Etsy shop!

Perfection is Not Required

2011-10-26T08:58:00.000-07:00

I love reading about other artists' processes on their blogs or in books, seeing what each stage of a piece looked like before it was finished. Seeing the steps that go into a piece -- as well as the seeming imperfections -- really inspires and encourages me. So here is the evolution of the most recent Christmas card I've created (you saw its beginnings yesterday).

I had such a fun time creating this piece -- until the end. Then the perfectionism monster grabbed me and would not let go. After I affixed the words, I grimaced at how mustard yellow they looked. But at the same time I knew that I couldn't remove the words without literally tearing holes in the piece. So I decided to deal with the yellow -- when I realized that I'd forgotten to give the angel a second wing! Sigh. I can't decide if it looks totally doofy. What do you think?

Still, not all is lost. I can fix the wing issue, and the printed Christmas card version of this piece doesn't reveal that there's a lack of wing. And most of all, I'm trying to use this rather frustrating experience to learn something about myself and my need to "be perfect" all the time. A few weeks ago God planted a thought in my head that has really stuck with me -- perfection is not required.

"Really?" I wanted to ask, already knowing the answer and not liking it one bit.

"Really," I felt God replied.

Oh.

So . . . the creation of this piece reminded me of that. I don't need to be perfect. My art does not need to be perfect. What is required is an openness to God, to growth, to grace. The state of my heart, not the quality of my importance, is what's important to Him.

I think that it will take me a long, long time to fully learn this lesson. A lifetime, perhaps. I don't know why I resist the idea that I don't have to be perfect so much. Shouldn't this truth come as a relief? Perhaps I take issue more with the fact that it is impossible to be perfect. So I'll have to learn, and keep learning, this lesson. But I believe that, in the end, it will prove to be a lesson worth learning.

Do you struggle with perfectionism? How do you deal with it?

Art in Progress + Trying Something New

2011-10-25T08:53:00.000-07:00

I am working on a couple of new art pieces. The first (above) is going to be the next in my Christmas-themed series. She is not a specific character from the nativity story, but can you guess who (or what...) she is?

The other art-in-progress that I'm working on (above) is quite new for me. I've never created anything in which a) there is no visible face on the main character, and b) landscape scenery is present (let alone a huge part of the focus!). I have no idea how this is going to turn out . . . but I already love it because I was not-scared enough to try something so different from what I usually make. Even the the end product isn't so great, I already consider this piece a success simply because I tried. Because if I'm not in this art stuff to grow and learn and discover -- really, what's the point?

Are you working on anything new right now? I'd love to see it!

p.s. Thank you all for your sweet and encouraging comments on my last few posts. They mean the world to me! I am so grateful for all of you, and am glad that you're a part of my life. Thank you.

Gratitude Monday

2011-10-24T07:02:00.000-07:00

The weekend was gorgeous here in western Montana. We had the perfect mixture of light and clouds, cold and sun. The trees look absolutely brilliant in their autumn colors. I went on a long walk with one of the pups on Saturday morning to soak it all in. Delicious. I wish it could stay like this for months, but I know that the snows will probably be here in what will feel like only moments.

What are you feeling grateful for today? Here are some of the gifts I received this week:

#78... registering for baby items with the Best Husband Ever
#79... tired feet that make me appreciate sitting
#80... mist and low clouds seeping along every street
#81... staying up late to finish Princess Academy
#82... the frustration of elusive sleep yielding the blessing of reading One Thousand Gifts at three o'clock in the morning
#83... wanting to share Chapter 4 with a friend
#84... baby kicks in my belly telling me that I'm not alone in my wakefulness
#85... knowing that perfection is not required
#86... reading old journal entries and seeing how God was working even then, even when He felt so far away

Cultivating Gratitude

2011-10-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

As I shared in my last post, I have been reading Ann Voskamp's blog and her book, One Thousand Gifts, and I've decided to participate in counting the many-sized gifts I receive from God daily. I want to say more about that.

God has been so generous to me. Ridiculously generous. I struggled with disordered eating in its many incarnations (compulsive overeating, anorexia, and purging via over-exercise, to name a few) for seventeen years. It started around the time that I entered middle school, born of a need to cope with the overwhelming social pressures of the middle school I attended as well as the stress of living in a home where there was a lot of yelling and not much in the way of hugs and love and grace.

Disordered eating followed me through high school, college, grad school, and beyond. It nearly destroyed my marriage. It nearly took my life. The battle for health in both body and mind has been, in a word, hell. And for all my hard work and attempts to claw my way into recovery, I never succeeded at getting or staying free from my eating disorder.

Until God stepped in. In March of this year, I gave up the fight -- and not in the positive, I-give-myself-to-Jesus kind of way. It was more like, "I've so damn tired, and I just can't bear to try anymore." So I gave up, resigned myself to a life of disordered misery, and on a whim signed up for an online art class in an attempt to fill up my time.

I don't know if it was the giving up, or my new art-making -- but my life exploded in the best of ways. Perhaps my giving up allowed God room to finally work, instead of me trying to force Him to fit into my agenda. Or maybe the art opened my life to Him in a unique way. I don't know. I don't think I'll ever know. But suddenly, without my even asking God for help, He healed me. Virtually overnight, I went from living in depressing enslavement to eating (and not eating) to shouting-from-the-rooftops freedom. It was miraculous.

I was (and am) most amazed by the fact that God gifted me with this freedom without my asking. Without my prayers. Without my expectation. Without me doing any work at all. He did it, and He did it without reserve. Instead of being trapped in what can only be described as a living death, He unwrapped me from my eating disorder shroud and flung me into joy and color and more life than I could ever have imagined.

I don't know why He did it. I certainly didn't deserve it. But He did it, and I imagine that He did so with a delicious feeling of abandon.

Since then, I have been able to see God's character more clearly. How "mostly what God does is love you" (Ephesians 5:1-2, MSG). How much He loves us, and how eager He is to load our lives up with His joy and blessing.

And I began to see His gifts. Small things and big things. Gifts that showed me more of God, more of His love. Gifts that showed me how much He cares for me specifically.

But I didn't know what to do with those gifts, or how to keep seeing His gifts when I don't feel particularly blessed. This summer, as I reveled in my new freedom from disordered eating, I felt like I was on a honeymoon with God. But I wondered how to retain that hyper-awareness of God's blessing and love and giving when the honeymoon inevitably ended. This summer I felt that I was living fully for the first time in my life, and I wanted to keep living that way, no matter what lies my emotions or the crush of life tried to tell me.

Enter Ann and her One Thousand Gifts. The tagline for this book is, "A dare to live fully right where you are." And while I think that the book is about that, I think it's also about cultivating gratitude, and then letting that gratitude take you deep into the mysterious fulness of life. A life with God. A life that sees and is thankful and as a result is glad, no matter what death-shadows loom.

Ann writes about how she decided to write down the small gifts she felt blessed by each day. Things like "bedsheets in billowing winds . . . fluff of sparrow landing on line, sun winter warm, and one last leaf still hanging in the orchard" (p. 53). And, through this simple act of noticing the small blessings of life, Ann felt led into a deeper relationship with God. Into a deeper experience of life. A more rich experience, and a more grateful one.

I have so much to be grateful for. Big things, like a whole and healed heart, and small things, like feeling God encourage me through a disappointment this afternoon, and the comfort of one of my pups curled up next to me on the couch while I read. I want to notice these things, and feel how wide is God's provision and gifts for me, right here, where and when and how I am.

So I have started my own list of one thousand gifts. I will share some of them here with you. I hope that you will be encouraged by them. I know that even for the week or so that I've been seeing and noticing God through these gifts, I already feel a more profound sense of true thanksgiving and security in the Lover of my soul.

"In naming that which is right before me, that which I'd otherwise miss, the invisible becomes visible.

The space that spans my inner emptiness fills in the naming. I name. And I know the face I face.

God's! God is in the details; God is in the moment. God is in all that blurs by in a life -- even hurts in a life.

GOD!

How can I not name? Naming these moments may change the ugly names I call myself."

~ from One Thousand Gifts (p. 54)

Do you already have a practice to cultivate gratitude and living-here-and-now? What is it? Will you join me (and many others) in naming your own one thousand gifts?

New Art!

2011-10-17T09:01:00.000-07:00

She's finally finished! Since you last saw her (and her is indeed the Virgin Mary), I layered more color on her headscarf, and added the words around her face. They are a quote from Luke 1:47-48, and read "Oh, how my soul praises the Lord. How my spirit rejoices in God my Savior! For he took notice..."

I'm quite pleased with how this piece turned out -- and I'm still in love with my watersoluble crayons! They are so much fun to work with. I created Mary using the crayons almost exclusively; I also used graphite pencil, acrylic paint, and a gel pen.

You can find Mary in my Etsy shop as a Christmas card here. As always, my cards and most prints come with free shipping!

Now, I have to decide who or what the subject of my next Christmas-themed creation is going to be. Any suggestions?

I have decided to join Ann Voskamp (and many others) in counting the One Thousand Gifts I receive from God in large and small packages throughout my days. To participate, find out more here. Here are the gifts He gave this week:

#1... making art outside
#2... working on the spare room with the Best Husband Ever
#3... Cody playing with his yellow dog toy
#4... pumpkin cottage cheese for breakfast
#5... cider-scented candles
#6... warm tea
#7... a sweet, sweet time with God
#8... chihuahua yawns

My New "Studio"

2011-10-14T10:04:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I don't have a dedicated room to create art in. While our house does have a spare bedroom, it is going to turn into our new baby's bedroom when she arrives. So right now, my "studio" is our kitchen table

While it would be great to have a real studio, I don't mind working at the kitchen table. I actually really enjoy it. The table is large enough to spread my supplies out comfortably, and I don't have to worry about getting paint on the carpet. Plus the natural light is really excellent in the kitchen.

But yesterday was a beautiful, sunny fall day. And since fall is my favorite season, I decided to take my art outdoors. So after some moving of supplies, our outdoor table became my new "studio":

And it was really, really great. The temperature was crisp, but I bundled up enough that I felt comfortable. The light was even better than indoors, and overall I just felt so invigorated as I began to paint.

It was an amazing experience -- for about five minutes. And then our next door neighbor came outside to smoke a cigarette. The smoke drifted over to where I sat. I coughed pointedly but kept on painting -- after all, how long would it take for him to finish his cigarette? I decided that the pleasure of painting outdoors was worth a few minutes of secondhand smoke.

Except that when he finished his first cigarette, he lit a second. And then a third. With each new cigarette, I threw down my brush and stomped inside, determined not to give up my precious new art space. But he kept smoking. And smoking.

I finally gave up. My perfect spot was ruined. I would not be able to create art that day, all because of an unthinking neighbor who didn't care if he gave the people around him lung cancer. What a jerk.

Right?

Well, after I resigned myself to not being able to paint outdoors, I expressed my creative energies by making lasagna for dinner (the first that I've ever made!). And at first I fumed big time. Stupid neighbor, I thought. Stupid cigarettes.

But something inside me didn't agree. Something (or really, Someone) reminded me that I'm definitely not perfect and shouldn't be throwing around judgements so easily. That many smokers wish they could stop smoking, have tried to stop smoking, but fail again and again, trapped in their nicotine addictions. That my neighbor really is very nice, and that he wasn't out to ruin my day.

And besides, it's not like I couldn't make art indoors. Like I usually do. Like most people usually do, without complaint. In fact, that Something said, isn't it amazing that you have the freedom and ability to make art at all?

Oh. Right.

By the time the lasagna finished baking, I had gotten over myself. I even managed to make some good progress on the new drawing I shared yesterday. Here she is:

The piece is not quite finished, but it's getting close. I hope to be done today. Can you guess who she is yet?

[Much to my wry surprise] I'm really pleased with how this is turning out -- especially since all of the color was added during what I had originally thought was a ruined art session. I often get so tied up in having the "perfect space" or "right atmosphere" to create art in -- when really all that I need are some supplies and the willingness to show up. I wonder how many more times I will needed to be reminded of this truth before I really behave like it's true. :)

Where do you make art?

"Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!" ~ Luke 2:19-20

Hard at "Work"

2011-10-13T20:56:00.000-07:00

Since starting to use my wonderful watersoluble crayons, I seem to have become completely addicted to them. They blend beautifully, so much better than acrylic or even watercolor paint. That's my opinion, anyway. :)

What that means, though, is that I am so excited to use them that I continue to work on new creations every day. And when I say work, I really mean play, because that's how it feels. Here's what I'm currently "working" on:

Can you guess who the woman is supposed to be? I will make this print available in my shop as a Christmas card soon. As I wrote the other day, I'm trying to produce a series of mixed media pieces that either have an overt holiday theme or a more general faith theme, like the one that I just listed in my Etsy shop, with a print of my "Celebrate" piece:

As with all of my cards, this one comes with free shipping! To learn why I offer free shipping on most of the items in my shop, read this. Find more blank cards featuring my mixed media creations here.

I can't believe that Christmas is pretty much right around the corner! I'm trying to not feel overwhelmed by the barrage of emails I'm getting from Etsy telling me to GET READY FOR THE HOLIDAYS, ALREADY. Instead, I'm trying to continue to enjoy art-making, refine my skills, and trust God to direct me on when it's time to start working more on the business side of things.

Are you doing anything special in your business/work to get ready for the holidays? What do you do to avoid feeling overwhelmed?

Trusting

2011-10-12T11:47:00.000-07:00

Image source

Trust me enough to let things happen without striving to predict or control them. Relax, and refresh yourself in the light of My everlasting Love. My Love-Light never dims, yet you are often unaware of My radiant Presence. When you project yourself into the future, rehearsing what you will do or say, you are seeking to be self-sufficient: to be adequate without My help. This is a subtle sin--so common that it usually slips my unnoticed.

The alternative is to live fully in the present, depending on Me each moment. Rather than fearing your inadequacy, rejoice in My abundant supply. Train your mind to seek My help continually, even when you feel competent to handle something by yourself. Don't divide your life into things you can do by yourself and things that require My help. Instead, learn to rely on Me in every situation. This discipline will enable you to enjoy life more and to face each day confidently.

Psalm 37:3-6, Philippians 4:19

I just read this in Jesus Calling, a devotional by Sarah Young, and found it particularly applicable to my life -- especially in light of yesterday's struggle with perfectionism. How timely God's reminders are, huh?

Have you received any timely reminders recently?

The Perfect Fall Day + New Art

2011-10-11T17:09:00.000-07:00

I think that today was as close to the most perfect autumn day as you can get. The morning started off gray with a misting rain, making it easy to cozy up with a cup of tea for some sweet, sweet God time.

Then the early afternoon blossomed into sunshiny brilliance, with lingering storm clouds chasing each other across swaths of blue sky.

The temperature didn't reach much higher than 50*F, but even with the blustery wind it did not feel overly cold outside. It was, to me, perfect.

When I tried to take photos, I was sadly reminded that my camera lens is not wide enough to capture just how BIG the day felt. I think I forget and am reminded of this every year when fall blows in. I love this season.

Amidst all the autumnal perfection, I worked on an artistic creation I started over the weekend. I was away at a women's retreat through my church, and this is what happened as I sketched away to the sound of a friend serenading us with her guitar and beautiful voice:

Today I worked more on this piece. As the original drawing experience had been so blissful, and because the day felt so delicious, I expected the second phase of the piece to be as enjoyable. Instead, however, I felt frustrated most of the way through. Part of this was due to the fact that I was using my watersoluble crayons for the first time. But the rest?

After I was finished I was able to pinpoint the greatest cause of my frustration -- perfectionism. I had forgotten my decision to simply "show up and see what happens" with all of my artistic endeavors. As a result, with this piece I was constantly criticizing myself -- "Why isn't the background working the way I want it to?" "Why can't I blend this more perfectly?" "This doesn't even look like my work. I'm such a copy cat." Oops.

Still, I really like the finished product. It [mostly] makes up for my yielding to perfectionism:

But today's art-making was also a good reminder to keep things simple -- to show up and see what happens. Period.

(By the way, the words in the girl's purple hair read "The people of God will sing a song of joy," which is from Isaiah 30:29. I wanted to make something appropriate for a Christmas card. It'll be making an appearance in my Etsy shop soon!)

Are you prone to give in to perfectionism? How do you fight it off? And -- what is your version of a perfect fall day? :)

Art in Progress

2011-10-07T08:51:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to teach myself how to draw and paint directly on canvas (instead of drawing a face on paper, then cutting out the paper and applying it to the canvas). Here's how it's going . . .

Stage 1:

Stage 2:

There is still work to be done, but I'm excited to see how this turns out. I'm pretty pleased so far!

What new techniques are you working on mastering?

Painting Along With Willowing

2011-10-04T15:26:00.000-07:00

I first learned to create mixed media art through Suzi Blu's fabulous online classes. Since that time, I've been going it alone, making art without guidance. But recently I've not only been feeling the itch to learn new techniques, but also to receive the loving artsy goodness that is transmitted through online classes.

To scratch that itch, over the past couple of days I've been painting along with Tam of Willowing. What that means is that I switch on one of her videos, and let her instruction and style inspire me as I paint something of my own that is not necessarily related. I've especially enjoyed the videos from her free Art, Heart, & Healing course as well as the above video.

Is that what painting in a salon feels like? I have no idea . . . but it's super fun! I came away from what would have been four hours of frustrated wrestling with a new creation feeling rejuvenated and connected. I think I'm going to play some other artists' process videos during my painting sessions in the future.

Do you watch artsy process videos? What is (are) your favorite(s)?

Art Supplies Seeking New Living Arrangement

2011-09-30T12:11:00.000-07:00

Today I am officially twenty-four weeks pregnant! The weeks have truly flown by since we had our twenty week ultrasound and discovered that our little one is in fact a little girl. Since then I've been busy with dog surgeries (yes, that's plural), a surprise tooth extraction (no fun), wandering through the baby section at Goodwill and buying adorable tiny dresses (so fun) -- and, of course, art-making!

But as our baby's arrival draws nearer, I've been trying to figure out the answer to a logistical question that's been nagging at me -- where am I going to put all of the art supplies living in what will soon become the baby's room?

Obviously, some sort of space-saving storage solution is in order. And while I know that there are many, many good options available at Michaels and Target, I also don't want to have to blow a huge amount of money on said options. On top of that, I want my supplies to be readily available, not buried deep in a closet where I won't be as motivated to get at them.

In the end, I was inspired by a friend. I'd noticed an old luggage trunk in her living room, and the trunk was both aesthetically beautiful and also functional, as she stored books and old magazines inside of it. I thought -- wouldn't that be a great solution for my storage issue?

So I paid a call on my favorite store -- Goodwill! I seriously love that place. Oodles of clothing, furniture, books, and knick-knacks on the cheap? Yes, please! And I was also not disappointed in their luggage selection. While I couldn't find any trunks, I did find three matching old suitcases that I thought would fit my living room and my needs perfectly.

Back at home, I hauled all of my art supplies out of the soon-to-be nursery. A couple of hours later, everything (except my large canvases) were tucked inside of these:

It probably doesn't look too organized, but I promise that it is. :) Plus all of my supplies are now within easy reach of my "studio" (a.k.a. the kitchen). As an added bonus, I think that the suitcases look rather nice in our living room.

What do you think? How do you store your art supplies?

Search Ads: An Early Impression

2011-09-28T07:05:00.000-07:00

Today is the day. Search Ads, Etsy's new promotional vehicle, is live. When I first heard about Search Ads, I got really excited -- cheap advertising that leads to more shop sales? I'll take it!

But then I started reading and learning about Search Ads, and I began to feel more pessimistic. Etsy says, "Now with Search Ads, sellers will be able to pay to appear in a highlighted section of search results pages when shoppers perform relevant searches." That sounds really good . . . except each seller is only allowed to tag their ads with a very limited set of keywords.

For example, I sell mixed media art. The phrase "mixed media art" is in most of my item's titles, and in all of their tags. But Search Ads won't let me use "mixed media art," or even just "mixed media." How is Search Ads supposed to be useful if we can't tag appropriately and accurately? I don't know why the folks over at Etsy decided to limit their new experiment in what seems like such a lethal way.

Still, I was prepared to give Search Ads the benefit of the doubt. The Etsy peeps must know what they're doing, right? I purchased a week's worth of ads at the level of 5,000 impressions for five dollars. I even had a dream about it last night -- I made three sales! :)

So when I opened up my laptop this morning, I went straight to Etsy to see how my Search Ads ads were doing. Here's what I saw:

Wow! Forty-three impressions, and all before eight o' clock in the morning! Promising, right?

Except that the top keyword drawing people to my shop has nothing to do with art -- it's "maternity." And I offer three maternity-themed items. So practically no one coming to my site necessarily wants to buy art. On top of that, here's what my shop's actual views are:

Three views?! That's even worse than usual. Oy.

Of course, as I already mentioned, these stats are from early in the morning (here in Rocky Mountain country, at least). So perhaps my stats will pick up as the day progresses. But I can't say that I'm feeling very encouraged about the utility of Search Ads right now. Still, I'll be watching my shop's activity and sales with a keen eye over the next week, hoping that Search Ads will prove me wrong.

What do you think of Search Ads?

Taking Flight

2011-09-26T10:12:00.000-07:00

This past week I started meandering through Kelly Rae Roberts' mixed media technique book, Taking Flight. I've owned the book for quite some time now, but I've discovered that it takes me a while to warm up to using new art books (or online art classes!) that I purchase. But now I'm finally reading away.

And . . . I love it. I love it because Kelly is so real and honest and open about her story. I also really love the techniques she shares, of course, but it is her writings about her life that really are the most amazing part of the book. As you may know from my other blog, I think that sharing our stories has immense value.

If you don't know much about Kelly Rae Roberts, she was employed a social worker for her early professional life and was decidedly not artistic. So she thought, anyway. But when she turned 30, she began to tune into her artistic desires more, and which eventually led to a total life overhaul. Now she's a super-successful mixed media wonder woman, so I imagine her first tentative artistic experiments went well. :)

I identify with so much of Kelly's story. Like her, I followed the path that was expected of me -- I went straight into college after high school, then on to grad school, and then dove into the miasma of job-seeking. Except . . . I wasn't ready for college when I graduated high school. And I didn't really want to study what I went to grad school for. But I didn't know what else to do, so I caved to the external pressures of my parents and society and did what I thought was the right thing.

Except that it wasn't the right thing for my heart.

Now, after 10 years of floundering through higher education, mostly fruitless job-seeking, and a terrifying battle with disordered eating, I feel like I'm where Kelly Rae Roberts was when she first began to investigate art. Earlier this year, I began my own artistic explorations, and it blew my mind and heart wide open. Suddenly, my eating disorder had no hold on me. Neither did depression. I didn't dread each new day. Instead, I couldn't sleep because all I could think about was making art.

It was amazing. Miraculous, even. Completely unlooked for, but completely needed. Making art helped make me whole. At least, that's what it feels like.

So that's why I love Taking Flight -- because it reminds me of myself. And because it gives me hope for where this art-making adventure might lead.

Plus, Kelly's techniques tutorials are really excellent. I'm mostly interested in her background techniques, and yesterday I tried out a few of them on a teeny, tiny mixed media piece. Not only that, but I also painted the face of the girl in the piece for the first time ever (instead of drawing the face on a separate paper and then Mod Podge-ing it onto the substrate). Here is the finished product:

A Girl and Her Chickens

I think the words need a little more definition, but otherwise I'm very pleased. So exciting! I both love trying new things, and am terrified that said trying will lead to failure. But mostly I love it, and it helps me to grow both personally and artistically.

Has art (or some other creative endeavor) transformed your life?

See What Happens

2011-09-22T16:03:00.000-07:00

Trust Through the Storm

I just finished this mixed media painting the other day. I suppose that you could say that this painting took a month to create, as I drew the original sketch on August 22. But really I drew the girl back in August, then let her languish in my sketchbook until this week, when all of a sudden I was absorbed by a tornado of paint and paper and faith, not emerging until the project was complete.

That description makes the experience of creating this piece sound so romantic, so blissful. And sometimes the process works like that -- I float on the current of inspiration and simply see what happens. Those pieces certainly are bliss-inducing.

But not this piece. Not at all. Instead, my floating quickly turned into floundering.

The painting started out all right. I created what I thought was a pleasant background mishmash of paper and ephemera and pastel paints. It reminded me of a cake, sweet and elegant and nostalgic.

And then I thought, Wouldn't some spray ink look nice?

I love my spray inks (this kind, in particular). In fact, I love anything that drips and anything that provides an interesting and excitingly unpredictable pattern -- and spray inks deliver on both counts. But inks, unfortunately, tend to be dark and decidedly un-pastel (in my experience, anyway).

But I didn't think the ink would look too dark on the painting in question, and so I started spraying.

Well. It didn't take too longer before I realized that I had made a terrible mistake, and that my heavy-handed ink application had completely destroyed all of the pastel goodness I had carefully arranged. In just a few seconds, I had ruined the painting.

I thought.

After much grumbling and tooth-gnashing, I began to pull myself together. I began to un-clutch the pastel vision that had been the piece's reality just minutes before. I told myself to make the best of it, if for no other reason than to not waste the supplies that had already gone into the piece. And so, reluctantly, I resumed working the now very transformed painting.

And I finished it. I didn't just give up. I stuck it out, and tried to return to the simple "paint and see what happens" philosophy that has served me so well in the past. After I did that, trying to just let the piece be instead of judging it into submission, things got better. I liked the piece more. And, much to my surprise, I received very positive responses when I shared the final version. Some people even said that this piece is their favorite of all of my creations.

And to think that I'd been so very close to abandoning it. To refusing to simply try, and to trust (ironic, given the piece's title and theme).

It's easy for me to forget that -- that my sole task as an artist is to simply show up. To show up, to try, to see what happens, just like Julia Cameron says. Why do I keep needing to remind myself of that? After all, the "seeing what happens" is where all the fun happens.

What simple truth do you need to relearn again and again? How have you made progress?

I Want Adventure . . .

2011-09-20T09:51:00.000-07:00

I just added a giclee print of this piece, I Want Adventure in the Great Wide Somewhere, to the shop. I am still swooning over the thought of all these beautiful giclee prints!

If the title of (and quote within) this piece sound familiar to you, you've probably heard it in the Disney movie Beauty and the Beast. I have always loved that song, when Belle sings about how she longs to leave the humdrum of her daily life and be set free upon the world. I imagine that just about every person experiences a similar longing, especially during the teen years, but I think it is something more basic than that.

I think that every person is born with the innate sense that there is something more to this life than what we see. Of course we want to believe that there is something beyond this world full of war and hunger and cancer and sadness. But even the joys of life seem drab in comparison to that mysterious more that we feel is out there, waiting.

Personally, I believe that that sense, that longing, is God calling to us, speaking to each person's heart of hearts. What's more, I have experienced that more in him. I am living an adventure of health and trust and abundance far beyond anything I ever expected. And I am so, so grateful.

What do you think? Do we possess a basic longing for that mysterious more, and if so where does it come from?

New Items + Why I Offer Free Shipping

2011-09-19T11:47:00.000-07:00

Here are some of the latest listings in my Etsy shop! You can now nab my newest painting as a blank card, card stock print, or giclee print. I think this painting might be my favorite of all the art I've ever made! But then . . . I think that about almost every new piece. ;)

* * *

Not too long after I opened Epiphany Art Studio on Etsy, I decided to offer free shipping on almost all of my items. This decision was not based on any sort of benevolence or savvy entrepreneurship. Instead, it came about as a result of my own frustrations as a shopper.

Browsing Etsy as a shopper is a delight. There are so many amazing creations to ogle, and perhaps buy. But the one thing that almost always comes between me and a carefully thought out purchase is (I bet you guessed it) shipping fees.

I hate thinking that an item costs one price, only to be slammed with a [sometimes hefty] additional shipping charge. Now, I understand that shipping costs money, and that sellers should not be expected to pay for shipping out of pocket. But to say that an item costs fifteen dollars, for example, and then later add perhaps another ten dollars for shipping -- well, then that item doesn't cost fifteen dollars. It costs twenty-five, which is a price I might not be willing to pay.

So I decided to list my items at a price that includes the shipping fee, without any additional charges added after a customer places an item in her cart. This alleviates my shopper frustration, and it also makes me feel less smarmy as a seller. That is not to say that other sellers who list shipping costs separately are smarmy -- but doing things this way just makes me feel better. And that is why I am trying to start a small one-woman business instead of working for a retail store.

Celebrate Pregnancy (and Treasuries!)

2011-09-17T10:35:00.000-07:00

Love Song

My favorite thing about Etsy is how many amazing creatives have their items for sale there. The beauty and skill I see there is both humbling and inspiring. For that reason, I love to create treasuries to showcase some of the zillions of stupendous, wonderful, talented people on Etsy. Here's my latest, celebrating all things pregnancy (because I am pregnant, and of course am thinking about our coming baby constantly!).

Learning About Art Prints

2011-09-16T07:53:00.000-07:00


Imagine

I came into this art-making and art-selling business without much idea of how to go about . . . well, anything. But I discovered my style and passion through practice -- by making more and more art -- and now I'm doing the same thing regarding selling my art.

When I first opened my Etsy shop, I didn't have a clue about how to make prints. After doing some research, I decided that the cheapest way to start was to get myself a color printer and make prints on card stock from home. So I did! And, to my great surprise, some people actually bought them. (You can find my cards here and card stock prints here.)

Be You

But I was not pleased with the quality of my home-made prints. They did not seem to do justice to the original pieces. And I felt kind of ghetto selling them. So I researched some more and discovered a way to print much higher quality prints at a reasonable cost. And that included my personal holy grail of art prints, the super-amazing swoon-worthy giclee. When I received my proof I was so happy, so I quickly posted a number of giclee prints of my art in my Etsy shop. (And all of the images in this post are available as giclee prints!)

I still feel like I barely know anything. But I'm having fun as I explore and learn and grow as both a self-taught artist and business woman. I can't ask for much more than that!

Keep an Untroubled Spirit

Welcome!

2011-09-15T04:44:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Epiphany Art Studio's blog, dedicated solely to my art-making. I also blog over at Life After Eating Disorder, and there will no doubt be overlap between these two blogs. Art has helped me to find full freedom from disordered eating, and so eating disorder related topics inform my art.

Thank you for visiting! I am excited to share my art journey with you!