“Artsy”

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I’ve never considered myself to be an “artsy” type. However, the older I’ve gotten, the more I value creating and practicing the arts. When I was growing up, my love for sports always came before piano practice. My artwork was always considered average by the art teacher, and I never won a coloring contest, or had my picture chosen to represent anything extraordinary. That’s ok. Although I didn’t always prioritize it, I think early on, I realized that doing something artsy, was more of a blessing for myself than for others. It feeds my heart and soul on a whole different level. As I was growing up, I watched my Mom learn to paint and saw how it relaxed her. The art that I was most impacted by was music. I was surrounded by it. I participated in musicals and the choir at church. Eventually, I was in the school band. Singing was just something that our family did.

My mom sang with a gospel group called “The Sunshine Singers.” It was kind of gospel group where everyone wore matching dresses and sometimes they even made a smaller version for me. They would travel around and sing at local churches and events and that’s where I learned to hear and sing harmony. I would sit on my “Pop’s” knee and he would sing tenor parts along with them as he played the bass guitar. I would do my best to sing along never worrying that I might not be good enough, or that I would be judged in my abilities. That must have been difficult for him to juggle- me sitting on his knee and singing, while he played. I never remember him using any chord charts or looking at any paper music. He would just play what he heard, as his wife, Sarah, otherwise known as “Mom” in the dynamic grandparent duo of “Mom and Pop,” pounded out the piano parts with energy and a smile on her face that exuberated the joy that was in her heart. Sometimes, I would hop on the piano, when it wasn’t being used and tried to imitate her style, but I could never get it quite right. All I ever heard or saw was encouragement and smiles. They just enjoyed my joyful “noise.” They weren’t my blood grandparents, but it didn’t matter, they were family to us. We were with them around every holiday, went to church together, had many a sleepover at their house and they spoiled me, as if I were their own. Needless to say, “Mom” Sarah, was one of our Sarah’s namesakes. We’ve have some pretty special other Sarah’s in our lives too, which helped sway us towards choosing our Sarah’s name. Now they’re together in heaven. I smile when I think about the hugs that were given.

The need to sing and make music was a part of my other family too. We had many a family sing along at get togethers or while camping. I’ve watched as my cousins have grown up making music and most of them serve in some capacity in their local church within the music ministry. Now their children are starting to do the same. I’m so thankful that we’re instilling in them the gift of music. I remember the first time Chad came to a holiday gathering and my cousins broke out guitars and we all started to circle up to sing some songs together. The look of fear in his eyes, I’ll never forget! I think he even questioned out loud, “What’s getting ready to happen?” We reassured him that we weren’t going to ask him to sing a solo or anything! Now, he rather appreciates those times, I think.

I think we all know that music, visual art, even the written word, can tap into feelings, and emotions that we sometimes find difficult to process. Research has shown that having a creative outlet can destress and clear your mind. Education Weekly published an article in 2013 which cited several research studies and the benefits of the arts for cognitive development. In essence what they are saying is that “art makes you smart!” Even used as therapy after a stroke or a physical debilitation, it is helpful for the brain to function better and benefits the patients recovery.

So, supporting the arts, and practicing creativity in some way has been so important to me as I am healing and learning to function with grief. It’s so therapeutic for me when I sit down and make music. Sometimes, I’ll pick up my guitar, but lately I’ve been drawn to the piano. I’m sure it’s because piano was Sarah’s instrument. When she would play, Chad and I would just soak it in. She was just a natural. I’ll confess that I have spent hours at the piano lately. My audience of “One” doesn’t care if I make a mistake or don’t quite get it right. It’s become my “sanctuary” of sorts. He just delights in the offering-even when it comes from a place of hurting. It’s a sacrifice of praise. He is a creative God. He loves to watch us create and make beauty from the dust. It’s what He did when He made mankind. Maybe the arts connect with us because of that. I really think that someday in heaven, that’s what we’ll be doing…creating things through the arts and it will glorify God, just as it does here now, but even more so when the curse of sin has finally been removed.

I believe, there is something creative that each of us was made to do. So, actually, we’re all “artsy” in some way. There are vast ways that we can express ourselves artistically now days. Sometimes it takes us longer to discover whatever that “thing” is-compared to others. Sometimes, it’s recognizable right away when a person is made to do something. Most of the time it takes practice and repetition. What do you create in order to connect with your inner artistic self? I’d love for you to share? How has it helped you through a difficult time?

Along this same line…The GLOW Fund(Sarah’s memorial) accepts donations of used, but playable instruments to be given to a young person who wants to learn to play. Your unused instrument could become a blessing to a young person who is discovering how The Creator has gifted them. If you have an instrument to donate, message me!

“Sappy” Mother’s Day

Maybe it was the cool and dreary weather compounded by grief, but Mother’s Day was very difficult.  I saw many sentiments from other grieving mom’s that felt the same.  Overall, our weekend started out good.  We went camping, which is a Mother’s Day tradition with some of our family members.  We also attended a lovely FFA banquet, where Libby received some awards and recognition for her hard work and involvement in FFA this year.  Sarah was honored there and Chad and I were even included as Honorary Members of our local FFA Chapter.  It was so sweet of them to do that!  Had I known that was going to happen, I may have actually showered away the campfire smell before we attended! Lol!

We had lots of family time and enjoyed using our camper, singing around the campfire a bit, ate all of my favorite desserts, but something was just missing…and that something was Sarah.  No matter how hard I “tried” to make it a good day, it just wasn’t.  My heart was aching for her.  Chad and Libby, bless their hearts, they were quite melancholy with me.  Maybe it was because I set the tone, or maybe they were just missing being “us” too.  Getting used to the new normal is hard.  We still have moments of joy, but it’s just so different and our hearts always pause to reflect on how much more joyous it would be to hear Sarah laughing right along with us. 

Not enjoying Mother’s Day isn’t a new thing for me.  I actually have had a hard time with it for years.  I learned during infertility, that it was a good weekend to just get out of town and not be involved at church.  There’s been a few years, when I made an exception, but the heart ache for my babies in heaven is always felt more deeply on this day.  A Mother’s heart is never more full than when she’s surrounded by all of her children.  I’ve never had that.

As your children are growing and learning to communicate, there’s a deep intimacy that you feel when you look at them and lock eyes and say things that you mean.  Sometimes, it’s a stern warning for correction-that may send a chill down their spine.  Sometimes, it’s a meaningful statement of love and value that you hope instills in them a security about who they are and how much they mean to you.  Either way, that connection that you make during that moment is priceless.  It’s like you’re looking into their soul.  If your child is still with you here on Earth, don’t ever take that for granted.  I long to look into Sarah’s eyes and tell her so many things:  how much I love her, how proud I am of her, how much I miss spending time with her, laughing with her, and singing with her.  Honestly, I’m still haunted by the way that her eyes looked past me and on into heaven when she died.  I know that’s the trauma.  It’s happening less, but on Mother’s Day, my brain brought it to the surface again.  Grief is like that.  It’s like a loop that you’re stuck in. 

The tears came and that’s ok.  I needed to let them out.  I’m healing, but I’m not healed.  Mother’s Day was a reminder that I won’t get what my heart truly longs for until we’re ALL together in heaven.  So for now, I’ll wait with tears, knowing that Jesus is collecting every single one of them.

 You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book. 

Psalm 56:8

He doesn’t just expect me to dry them up and move on.  He stops with me and allows me to grieve.  While He’s holding me, He’s also got His eyes on our girl.  Knowing she’s looking into His eyes right back, brings me peace.  He knows when I’ll be able to look into her eyes again some day and when I’ll also lay eyes on my 3 other babies that I’ve never gotten to hold. Maybe they know the answer to that question too and like me, they’re counting down the days.  Until then, Mother’s Day is over and I’m one day closer to Heaven.

Hymns and Heritage

Last week my family got to do something really special. My cousin Val leads music from time to time at St Louis Crossing Church and when she was asked to lead on May 2nd, which happens to be our Grandma Anderson’s birthday, she had the idea to invite some of the family to join her and lead with some of our Mamaw’s favorite hymns. Our Mamaw has been in heaven for a while, and I have no doubt that Sarah was a part of her celebration this time. Here on earth it was a perfect reason for us to gather. It’s been to long! Surprisingly, once the younger kiddos heard about what the grown-ups were doing, they wanted to be included in the sing along at the service. How sweet is that? They even came up with a “band name” for the group-The Anderson Roots! Isn’t that precious? Unfortunately, I was unable to participate this time, because I was singing at our own church, but I am so thankful for a family that still honors our heritage and for the respect and excitement that the younger ones had to ask to be included in something that they could have easily chosen to set out of.

Afterwards, we still gathered together to celebrate the day. I had the opportunity to visit with Olivia, one of my little cousins. Olivia is amazing. Out of the next generation of cousins, she’s the one that reminds me the most of Sarah. She’s not at all shy, she has a smile that will light up a room, loves to talk and visit with us old people, and is just full of joy. She endured a pretty significant health scare when she was younger. I remember even at that time, realizing she was so brave and she already had such an incredible faith in Jesus. So, we were chatting about the hymn sing and I asked her which song was her favorite. She said quickly, “Oh, the Do Lord/I’ll Fly Away” one! I really love that one!” It made me smile. I told her that I remember singing those songs too when I was her age and how fun they were. Because of those songs, I learned some very valuable promises of God and experienced watching the joy on my parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles faces as we sang about heaven someday. In those moments I could tell they were looking forward to a sweet reunion with loved ones that they were missing and that I had yet to meet. It was those same songs that were sang, as a family, as we surrounded my Grandparent’s- before each of them passed. They are songs of hope and comfort for sure.

When I began looking for items to stock in my online store, I found an amazing company called “Revelation Culture” that offers handmade quality signs. I was quickly drawn to them because of the scripture that they used, the message of hope that they give, and just how well they are made. When I saw the subway styled Hymn signs, I knew that I had to offer them. Along with several of their “Shelf sitter” signs and various smaller signs, the shop is stocked with “I’ll Fly Away” and “Victory In Jesus” Hymn signs. These signs are big at 3 1/2 feet tall by 1 ft 10 Inches wide. So they make a statement! For me, it’s more than just a statement, it’s a promise. When I look at them, I’m reminded of my past and my future!

Recently, my friend Mel was drawn to the “Victory In Jesus” sign. As soon as she saw it, she was reminded of her Grandma, who passed away in 2019. Now the sign hangs in her breakfast nook/kitchen area. For her it’s a way of remembering, but also teaching her children about their Great Grandma’s legacy-all while instilling in them the promises of God and growing their “roots” deep in a heritage of hope.

“When we all get to heaven

What a day of rejoicing that will Be

When We All See Jesus

We’ll sing and Shout

The Victory”

What about you? Do you have a favorite Hymn that reminds you of your family and brings you hope?