The Da Vinci Code (I missed the mark a little)

I once told someone that I wanted to be a painter….and that was before I actually became an interior painter.  That job came along by default and I will talk about that one day, but for now we will stick to the here and now.  So did God answer my desire to be a painter?  Perhaps he did but I think he might have had a sense of humor because. …what I meant was a painter like Leonardo Da Vinci. 

I wanted to paint murals of vibrant colors on domes and walls and maybe even front doors…people who know me know I love to paint front doors, but my creative side wants to see turquoise doors, emerald doors and doors that look like burnt fire.  Only 1% of my customer base will step out of their comfort zone and venture to the world of vibrant and playful colors.  Doesn’t stop me from wanting to color the world and add my special touches.  I’m a bit weird, eclectic and rustic when it comes to deign.  So God must have answered my wishes, but I didn’t specify, I kind of got stuck with being a house painter for the moment. ..thanks God!  At least it pays the bills..right?  Right.  So I make the best of it and I play with color as much as I can.

Then I realized that Da Vinci was a designer too…as am I ..whether that is in color design or accent design.  So in my need to close up an opening at my cattery to prevent the cats from jumping into the reception area from their play area, I went to work with my design sense. 

I first covered it with cheap cut up underlayment boards that I had left over from another project.  I then sealed it with the famous Gorilla tape.  I had some dark colored gel stain from a front door project so I spruced the boards up a bit.  I love the color of light blue and dark stain so luckily I had some semi gloss Behr paint left over from a bathroom project and I went to work.  Not bad for piecing a project together.  Here’s what it looked like after I nailed up the underlayment boards.

So here’s to you God for teaching me to work with what I have.  Maybe one day…I will actually reach Da Vinci status. …hmmm…I won’t hold my breath.

The Art of Creation

I have learned through the art of necessity to create something out of nothing. Adversity is indeed the catalyst to creation. Stumbling blocks are the very solid foundation to building something concrete and durable. Every tear along the way is simply the water that nourishes the seed to allow it to sprout. Another heartache is the path to greater love. An assumption or misunderstanding is an opportunity to become a master at communication.

Pulling something out of thin air from sheer determination unfolds abilities you never knew existed inside of you. The insight and inspiration you feel witnessing the fire of another’s soul is the spark to your own flame. You may think you are nothing but indeed you are everything to your own world. Your world is the flower blooming with sweet fragrance for all to inhale.

Manifesting your universe from pure thought that seems to come out of nowhere puts you everywhere you need to be. You are the most important element to this life – your life. You give birth to you and you are all you need to be. Nothing more. Nothing less. Move away from being your own enemy. If you think you are nothing then start being everything to something. Creation starts with one little seed or need.

The Warrior Within

 

As my mom sits here in the Compassionate Care Center, I wanted to capture some images of what cancer looks like.  I, instead, captured the warrior within.  Her angled features are prominent, illuminating the Native American roots pulsating through her veins.  She comes from an Appalachian family centered in the hills of South Eastern Kentucky, a descendent of a trible derived from Native American roots.  Which tribe, I am not entirely sure, but I believe I was told it was Cherokee.  One day, I will research to find out.

The warrior is strong willed, determined to beat their opponent.  Accepting defeat is not an option in the heart and mind of a warrior.  What if, though, two warriors reside in the same soul?  A spiritual warrior and a mental warrior.  Both fighting with equal strength in an attempt to master the other.  That’s the image of cancer in my opinion.  Two warriors who can’t seem to over power each other.  The spirit wants to move on and shed the skin that holds it bound to the pain, sorrow and frustration.  The mental warrior wants to hold on.  To show it’s opponent that it can beat down the enemy within.  To grow stronger than the poison eating away the flesh of life.  They take turns with the power exchange and on and on it goes.  The battle. The rollercoaster.  The glimmers of hope followed by the realness of reality.   Sometimes the roles reverse. Sometimes the spiritual warrior wants to defeat the poison.  Other times the mental warrior beats the odds.  Yet, I can also see both warriors, at times, hold hands and walk arm in arm creating a plan to battle that poison together.

Every warrior gets battle fatigue though.  If there are two warriors warring against each other, then one must come out of the battle as the winner.  Unless…of course…a truce is called.  Isn’t that what happens when one can’t get the best of the other?  A truce to walk away from each other and letting what will be – just be.  Maybe….just maybe…that is the moment God walks in and sends his angels to administer healing.  Oh…but .. oftentimes, death is the healing itself.  I realized a long time ago that my place in life was not to save every soul that came across my path – my mother included.  Still it doesn’t stop me from fighting with her until the very end and using my call to heal and comfort.  That’s my calling, but my job is to bring the light with me and just be there with them.  That’s it.  Nothing more …. nothing less.

I have been watching this power play all day with my Cherokee warrior.  Moments of strength.  Moments of weakness.  Brief moments of peace, followed by a moment of frustration.  Same for me.  I wonder, is this the end?  Oh wait, she’s getting a bit stronger and looking like she might improve only to be taken down again as if she is pulled under water again, but finding the strength to push her way to the top for a breath of air.  How cruel.  To feel hope, but back to desperation again…..and again.

As I watch, I do the same.  A moment of hope picking up my battle arms to fight with her.  Making calls to find a doctor to cure her.  Pleading with the hospice doctor to drain the fluid from her stomach one more time.  Creating a tentative healing plan for when she goes home tomorrow.  Only to be crushed by witnessing the tears on her face – the first sign of giving up and giving in.  Feeling helpless in the futile attempts to take her pain away.  Praying that if she is giving up that she be given the mercy to go quick before the pain consumes her body.  Watching her slowly go down and praying for her sake that she stays down knowing that if she gets back up again, she will go on yet another roller coaster ride to hell and back, but just out of reach of Heaven’s Gate.  I want her to stay.  I want her to go.  I want her suffering to end, but don’t want to let her go.  I am on the roller coaster with her.  Not only me, but the others that love her too.  How long will it be until the roller coaster derails?

Yesterday, as I walked out of the center to get my own personal things done, I wondered how many other family members had walked through those double doors for the last time  Heavy hearts, tears, sorrow all wrapped up in a breath of relief.  Maybe even a twinge of guilt for even feeling that much needed relief.  Cancer isn’t the only poison.  Others are here battling their own poison, but the common element is that most of them will here to go to their heavenly home and not their physical home.

Which will it be for us?  When will my last time of walking out of those doors be?  Where will I be going?  To my mom’s house or to her funeral?  One thing is for certain.  My time here at the Compassionate Care Center is coming to an end, but where will my little Cherokee warrior be?