April's Tears
Life, Love, and the Pursuit of...Something More Than Happiness
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Last night I dreamt that I’d lost my middle son. Not that he died, but that somehow we’d gotten separated and could not find each other. In my dream, I remember being disoriented, and wondering how I’d ended up in some all-night computer lab-type-of-place, while he was back home in bed—except that he wasn’t in bed—he was out in the woods looking for me. We were fighting to stay connected through a cell phone call that kept breaking up, and eventually dropping out completely.
I awoke with my teeth clenched and my heart racing. Then I remembered that he was in fact, in real life, still in his bed at 5:47AM.
<Sigh>
We are deep in the weeds of senior year for this son. He’s our 2nd graduate, but will be our first to leave home. I’ve been trying to prepare myself but I told a friend the other day
that it doesn’t matter what the books tell you, you can’t prepare yourself for a kid leaving home. How can you?
All I know is that in a few more months, I will wake up and he won’t be here. That’s it. That’s how it goes.
It’s strange to carry my anticipatory grief, and my joy for him at the same time. He is following the path that is before him, and it is so good. It is the best, actually. And I am genuinely so happy for him. And I am so sad for us, too, because we don’t get to share this experience with him. We will only ever hear about it second hand, and only ever experience it, through his words, through his stories. We will have more questions than I’m sure we’ll get answers. We will have our wonderings, and he will have those things which are his alone.
This is life. This is what it is to love one who leaves.
My heart is a choppy sea these days. I am buoyant and sinking all in an afternoon. I am wild for the adventure, and frightened by the upheaval, all at once. I've been praying fretful prayers out of one side of my mouth while declaring my faith in God’s good plans at the same time. There are layers to these waves.
I wonder what God thinks as He bends his ear to my chest to listen to the murmurings of this wandering heart?
The layers that make up our life are often invisible to the public, but they are there underneath and their value is not diminished by their invisibility.
For April’s card’s for The Artist’s Deck, I selected an orang-y color palette that I am most pleased with. I was inspired to keep kicking the color up a notch while working on these, and in the end, I like how they remind me of fire, which reminds me of the Holy Spirit, which reminds me of the wildness of God, the inexhaustible boundlessness of the God who walks on raging waves. I didn’t realize until I was all done with them, that the words I had selected for each card, all struck me as attributes of God. These are not just words. They are Truths, too.
One of the attributes of these cards that doesn’t always convey well in these images, is the many layers that make up the cards. I begin with a thin layer of Gesso, and then usually apply some kind of tissue paper or other paper for texture. After that dries, paint, pastels, stamps, ink, colored pencils and more paint is applied. There are layers laid down initially, that are invisible to the viewer once the card is complete. I love this layering work. It’s therapeutic to layer, to remember that this is what life looks like too. The layers that make up our life are often invisible to the public, but they are there underneath and their value is not diminished by their invisibility.
I tried to talk about this son going off to college with a friend the other day and had to stop when a knot formed in my throat, and tears pooled in my eyes. He won’t even be that far away, I chide myself in the moment. But later that day while walking the dog alone, I say out loud to the killdeer guarding her rock nest, that his leaving is a big deal and it’s ok to feel my feelings. I let the tears slip. I let the boundless kindness of God hold this knotted up ball of love and life, and this pursuit of something more than happiness. I let myself feel all of the layers.
This week I need to steam his graduation gown, order photos, prepare for a graduation gathering, and a long list of a hundred other tiny things that surround this impending transition. I need tot take a few more walks and stop trying to “prepare” myself and just live fully into these fleeting moments, because this is what I care most about—these people right here who, once, used to be at my heels while I made dinner, and now are scattering to the world, as it is good and right so for them to do.
Which words from these cards are resonating with you?
I’ve been working faithfully on these cards since the New Year and with each month I love this project more and more. Here’s a snapshot of the cards I have created so far. This pile of colorful goodness feels like treasure to me. Each card, a prayer, a prompt—a secret message—they are storied and layered. They are tangible hope.
So much I want to tell you...but perhaps a message may be the best form. I will comment on the beautiful evolution in your cards! What a treat to see them fanned out and begin to imagine what is yet to come🩵And that watercolor color is delicious 😲