This Pain in my Heart

     Hello World, I have a pain to share with you... a deep pain that only the omnipotence of God can heal.  On Wednesday of this week my brothers childhood friend Kelwin Hibner had his body ripped open by a ditch witch while working in his field.  He put his foot atop the safety guard for some reason, slipped and his foot caught in the blades pulling his body into it and making a mess of this young man's body.  He is now heavily sedated at MCG in intensive care.  His young wife and family wait anxiously to hear any piece of news they can about this man that they love! 


Just before we were able to take him home.

     I too have sat in the hospital waiting room staring into the arms of the unknown... My very own dear brother lying on that sick bed, his body broken and cold.  On August 1, 2011, Ryan touched a live welder plug with his thumb.  The electricity flowed through his hand and stopped his young beautiful heart.  Dad performed CPR and momma called 911, but we had no idea whether he would live or not (his heart was still for up to ten minutes before the paramedics restarted it).  He was taken to Doctors Hospital where for three agonizing days we did not know if he would be a vegetable for the remainder of his life, or if he would not remember us at all, or if he would even wake up.  I have to hold back tears even now three years later while writing this.  We prayed unceasingly... Prayer and love rained down on us from family and friends.  I did my level best to tell God I would accept whatever future he had planned for Ryan, but the cruel reality that he could die any moment ripped open my heart and caused my heart to bleed uncontrollably.  I wept more that week than I have ever before in my entire life.  On the third day, the sun rose and our most marvelous Lord gave my brother back to us.  He woke up with his witty fun-loving brain fully functional!  We were and are so exceedingly thankful!  We stayed another week and half in the hospital in which time his thumb had to be removed due to too much sustained damage. 
      Kelwin, all of my family and I are praying unceasingly for your full recovery.  We are praying for strength for your family for the days to come.  We are praying for Christ's guidance of the surgeon's hands.  We love dearly the Hibner family and are here if there is anything we can do.  Now, you Reader,  now that I have bared my heart and showed you my pain I ask that you take a piece of it.  I ask that you too pray for this young man's plight.
     My brother has been given back to me and I could not be more thankful.  I love him to the very core of my being... Kelwin too has a sister who loves him... and cousins, aunts, uncle, mother, father, grandparents... Father save him too... restore his body, dear Lord!

My Ryan and I not long ago... you can see where his thumb was amputated...

           

     Greek mythology has always interested me.  The idea that a god could be so humanlike... So fallen is so different from what a Christian, like myself, believes.  But even in the dark twisted deity we as humans have created to worship, there is a glimmer of beauty. 

The god of the Sea

     Over Christmas I read the series Percy Jackson and the Olympians.  These five children's chapter books are about a current day demi-god named Percy Jackson.  He is the clumsy forbidden son of the god of the sea, Poseidon.  Adventure always seems to seek him out along with monsters, jealous gods, angry demi-gods and other equally terrifying mythological creatures.  It is quite entertaining, but what I found so beautiful about the story was not his daring deeds or brilliant decision making.  It was the relationship he shares with his father.  He grew up in New York City with his mother and lousy stepfather, not learning who his biological father truly was until he was threatened by monsters and hidden away at a secret camp full of his kind.  When finding out his father is the god of the sea he becomes angry at Poseidon for not caring for him enough to find him and love him as every child wishes to be loved.  The story goes on and he begins to see why his father left him, and why he could not claim him as a baby.  He begins to see how much his father does love him.  The little secret ways his father has been protecting him come to light, and he finally sees that his father has been there for him all along...  Watching over him... Caring for him... 
     I painted The god of the Sea because for whatever reason I had to.  I loved the story... Seeing a father being held back from the son he loves because of his great power was heart wrenching.  Had Poseidon been a mere human he could have been the father he longed to be.  He could have stayed and raised Percy to be the man every good man wishes his son to be, but because he had a duty to the sea and to the gods he had to leave his only remaining son to be raised by trusted followers.  Perhaps I have fallen too deeply in love with fairytales... but I must say it is a fault I do not regret.   
        

When we go fishing...

     Saturday morning at 6:30 I pulled my tired body out of bed, put on my Dutch House t-shirt and some jeans, and headed to work.  It was an ordinary work day.  We baked cinnamon rolls, and other various fattening things.  We talked about the weather and how nice a day it was for a fishing trip.  It was decided then and there we would all go fishing in my grandfather's lake after work that afternoon.  The work day dragged on, but finally around 2:00 we were released to head home and get our fishing gear.  I probably should mention that even though I have been fishing several times in that lake I have never actually caught more than a tree stump.  Juli and I loaded her fishing kayak in the back of my fathers little Samurai and headed to our grandparent's house.  It was quite a ride; I couldn't see out of the right window at all, and one large bump put a nice spider web in the windshield, but we made in one piece.

 

      Two of my coworkers arrived shortly after in a old light blue Buick (The Bomb) pulling an old fishing boat on a trailer.  With the Samurai in the lead, we headed down the trail to the land bridge.  We bounced along about a hundred feet before we found our path blocked by four or five huge fallen trees.  The ice storm's victims appeared to be barring our fishing trip.  So we tried plan B, which was to drive around the other way in hopes the gate would be open.  Much to our great delight it was and we made our way around the lake the long way, parked our cars, put the boats in the water, and began to catch stumps.  Emily was the first to catch a living breathing fishy!  I would love to tell you what kind it was, but the truth is I have no idea.  She told me what she thought it was, Grandpa told me what he thought it was... As for me... I was just so impressed to see it swimming around in the bucket I didn't care what line of pond swimmers it came from!  Emily went on to wow us by catching two more such beauties.  She had just hauled her third into the boat when an orange truck pulls up in front of the Samurai and two men leapt out.  I could tell by their body language they were not very happy, but I had no idea what the reason for that would be.  They walked over and started writing down our license plate numbers.  This really bewildered us... While it is true that grandpa no longer owns the lake that he built himself, he kept the fishing rights.  As far as I knew, we had done nothing wrong.  This unhappy man then yelled, "You guys need to come on back."  Oh boy, I didn't know what I had gotten myself into.  I was terrified inside, and what made matters worse we weren't exactly sure how to handle the boat.  We paddled on one side of the boat until we were headed in the wrong direction, then paddled on the other side.  We could not keep that boat going straight for anything.  By the time we reached the shore we were facing the lake and not the men.  So we had to crane our necks to see them.  He turned out to be the owner of the lake and he was very upset to come home and find four silly girls fishing in his water!  I told him who I was and that I was under the impression my grandfather still had fishing rights.  He then explained that it was perfectly fine that we were fishing.  We could fish anytime we wanted,  his real concern was the fact that we were tearing up his land by driving over it.  He told me that if he caught any of us on his land again someone was going to jail!  After making us feel on the same level as the fish in our bucket, he climbed back into his orange truck, yelled over his shoulder that he was off to talk to my grandfather, and drove away. 

     Well thinking the damage was done, we zigzagged back out into the water and threw out our lines yet again.  Juli strayed out near grandpa's house in her kayak and pulled in a large mouth bass.  I was so proud of that young lady I could have burst!  Let me just tell you, my little sister is a crack shot with a rifle and a darn good fisherman!  After catching numerous trees and getting tangled up in my own line a few times I finally caught my first water dweller.  I took the hook out of his lips and everything!  

     The Sun started to go down on our little adventure, so we started to head back.  Juli and I put her kayak back in the Samurai; we tugged, pushed, and lifted the boat back on the trailer, and headed back to the house.  Our elation over our lovely fish was short lived for when we came back around to the gate we found it locked up tight.  It seems that the orange truck-driving lake owner wanted to keep us in.  So our options were to somehow get around the fallen trees or figure out how to get through the gate.  It was growing darker by the minute as we stood in front of the gate trying to determine what was to be done.  No one wanted to call on Mr. Orange Truck for help.  Darlene suddenly says, "I wonder..." and began studying the hinges of the gate.  She flashed me a smile, ran over to The Bomb, and comes back with an axe, a needle nose pliers, and an adjustable wrench.  We had that gate off its hinges in no time.  The trouble was getting it back on.  It was a bit rusty and did NOT want to go back into place.  Three of us had to hold it in place while Darlene pounded it back into place with the back of the axe.  It was almost dark when we finally had it back in place with our cars successfully on the other side.  Who says girls can't get the job done???   

     Saturday was a long day, but it was so much fun!  It is my belief that some people do not need to go seek adventure... Adventure seems to seek them!  I am one of those people! 

   

    

      





   

     Art.  Art is the reason I'm writing to you today.  Art is the reason I am smiling so broadly.  Art is a glance into a person's soul, and I am going to let you into mine.  Just a glance mind you... don't think you can take up shop. 

Letters to Elise

     In the summer of 2013, I went to Uganda, Africa on a mission trip.  Our mission was to discourage the spread of malaria in the remote villages.  We handed out treated nets, traipsed across the fields to ensure they were being used, prayed with the village pastors, played with the village children, washed clothes at the village well... all the while proclaiming the name of Christ.  I think Africa changed me much more than I changed Africa.  Christ showed me that He would never leave me or forsake me in a way I have never experienced before.  I tell you this because Africa inspired art in my soul.  I came home, alive in spirit and overflowing with anticipation for the future.  In my little upstairs room at home, I took a paint brush in my hand, and painted without holding back. 
     This painting Letters to Elise is also painted on the very walls of my heart.  Elise and I are cousins and best friends.  We share everything with each other, pain is shouldered together, happiness is doubled.  I dedicate this piece to our friendship.  May it never die.  I love you, Missy!