My art room has been a space of solace during these pandemic days. As I live alone and now work from home, I sometimes get too much in my head. There’s so much to think about and pray about these days. There’a a laundry list of things I worry about. So, when I need to come out from under the weight of thinking, I go to my art room. I’m often there first thing in the morning and at the very end of the day. Sometimes, I just walk into this space to look, to grow calm, or to become more steady. It is a haven in these times..
I’ve positioned my art table so that I can look outside as I create. I have a good view of the mountains and sky and neighborhood trees that always seem to be reaching towards both. I love seeing kids on their bikes and new moms strolling their babies in the fresh air and dogs walking their people. I put a bird feeder right outside of the window, and that has it’s own share of delight. Sparrows. Doves. Cardinals. Wren. The feeder is their local diner where they swap stories, learn to share, and receive sustenance.
On my windowsill, I have a collection of treasures that also catch my eye and soothe my spirit. Seashells, feathers, a Native American rattle, and a little angel from my brother. Back in the fall, I was shopping with friends in a thrift store, when I found this ceramic figurine of the Virgin Mary. I brought her home with me, and added her to the windowsill. She watches over me as I invite God’s spirit to be with me as I stir the creative waters and seek the peace that passes all understanding.
An unexpected joy has also come to this window during the pandemic. There are two volunteer sunflowers cheerfully blooming in the flower bed outside of the art room window. I like to think that the warmth that rises from all the love in my art room spilled out on the seeds and encouraged these sweet friends to rise up. They stand there each day as reminders that possibilities abound and goodness keeps on flowing even on the hardest of days.
Today, I noticed how sweetly the sunflowers seemed to cup Mary. They encircled her with their warm glow… so much so that I had to grab my camera and kneel down to take the photo. So, there I was in this dear sacred space kneeling with Mary and the sunflowers, when low and behold, a goldfinch arrived. He perched on the stalk of the sunflower and nodded to all that was holy in that moment… and there was so much that was holy. The distance between heaven and earth eased, and I could feel God’s assurance embracing me with love and care.
I am reminded today that while this pandemic is awful, rending our minds and bodies and spirits, it is also creating spaces that invite us to lean our heads on God’s heart and rest easy in that love. So much is beyond our control and so much is within our reach. Let the veils be lifted. Let the downhearted, sing.
I’ve positioned my art table so that I can look outside as I create. I have a good view of the mountains and sky and neighborhood trees that always seem to be reaching towards both. I love seeing kids on their bikes and new moms strolling their babies in the fresh air and dogs walking their people. I put a bird feeder right outside of the window, and that has it’s own share of delight. Sparrows. Doves. Cardinals. Wren. The feeder is their local diner where they swap stories, learn to share, and receive sustenance.
On my windowsill, I have a collection of treasures that also catch my eye and soothe my spirit. Seashells, feathers, a Native American rattle, and a little angel from my brother. Back in the fall, I was shopping with friends in a thrift store, when I found this ceramic figurine of the Virgin Mary. I brought her home with me, and added her to the windowsill. She watches over me as I invite God’s spirit to be with me as I stir the creative waters and seek the peace that passes all understanding.
An unexpected joy has also come to this window during the pandemic. There are two volunteer sunflowers cheerfully blooming in the flower bed outside of the art room window. I like to think that the warmth that rises from all the love in my art room spilled out on the seeds and encouraged these sweet friends to rise up. They stand there each day as reminders that possibilities abound and goodness keeps on flowing even on the hardest of days.
Today, I noticed how sweetly the sunflowers seemed to cup Mary. They encircled her with their warm glow… so much so that I had to grab my camera and kneel down to take the photo. So, there I was in this dear sacred space kneeling with Mary and the sunflowers, when low and behold, a goldfinch arrived. He perched on the stalk of the sunflower and nodded to all that was holy in that moment… and there was so much that was holy. The distance between heaven and earth eased, and I could feel God’s assurance embracing me with love and care.
I am reminded today that while this pandemic is awful, rending our minds and bodies and spirits, it is also creating spaces that invite us to lean our heads on God’s heart and rest easy in that love. So much is beyond our control and so much is within our reach. Let the veils be lifted. Let the downhearted, sing.
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