Visits to the Cottage...

There are many things in my life that I am proud of,

one is my Cottage. It is the first home I have owned on 

my own, I have made it scream my name on arrival.

Anyone who knows me just a little bit can walk into the cottage

and see that it is I who lives here.

Another thing, is the first time I have someone visit

the cottage, I feel like a tour guide, having to show

each room, explain different decor, I swear I am

a mess. Recently I have had two friends visit

the cottage for the first time.

I hope they enjoyed the tour as much as I did.

This morning I find this post:

Yes! that is me and the cottage!!

All my little collections, all the books

in the library and the studio is what make me, me

and the Cottage mine.

Anytime I am showing the studio I say,

"If this room is ever clean it is a bad sign

because it means I am not creating.

So,yes, I don't have a mess,

I have ideas lying around everywhere!

I will never again ask forgiveness for

the state of the Cottage.

It is this place that has my creativity flowing!

Me....

Yesterday....

My young daughter turned thirty!!

Yes.... the Big 3 -0!

With that birthday comes many thoughts.

For instance,

"How can I have a thirty-four and thirty year old children?"

Like that just does not seem possible.

When they were young and had no choice but to 

see me everyday, I hated when people would say,

"Enjoy it, it passes fast!"

Yeah, If it passes so fast them come here before I 

hurt these kids who just broke my favorite lamp

with a football, in the house.....

"When I just finished saying,

"Don't be throwing that football in the house!"

All kidding aside, I say it now as well

because the facts are, it does pass fast and

you will awaken one day to find that you really

are old enough to have these kids, who are now adults.

I still cry when I hear Stevie Nicks sing LANDSLIDE.

Yep, every time, it still catches me by surprise.

I am 56 years old, living the best life possible,

having found my place in the artisan world with the 

home portraits. I think of death more than I have in my whole life.

Not that I am afraid of dying, more afraid of the journey 

from point A to point B.

With that said, I find myself being very content most days,

other days stressed because I just can't spread myself any

thinner, but I go into the studio, brush in hand, audiobook on

and loose myself in the day.

If I had to explain myself in a sentence now that I am in the slide down

of my 50's, it would be the one above.

I believe I have always lived with an old soul

and sometimes pray, that whatever happens after this life,

we do get to do "life" again in some capacity

because....

I would like to have days again,

where every morning I have my own children looking 

lovingly at me saying,

"What's for breakfast, where is my school bag"

Visiting friends, Mr. Bill

Found myself in thibodaux again yesterday with lots of

things to do, one being taking photos of homes I will be painting.

As I drive into Waverly Place, I think of my friend, Patricia.....

"Are you Home" 

my text goes out to her, 

"Yes!"

"I am in your neighborhood, coming visit"

and I did, an added blessing, her little, Em was home

as well for Fall break! A senior now, I was her "Nurse Lilly"

for many years. 

I surprised them with a visit they surprised me with Em.

I over talked just like I always do, they listened like they always do.

Yet, I could tell my dear friend needed some hugging and loving on 

this day, Was happy to provide both!

Excuse the next photo, worst shot ever, but

I also visited Mr. Bill Pitre who broke his hip and recently had surgery.

How I know Mr. Bill, oh in so many ways. 

First, her daughter, Celeste and I graduated from South Lafourche

together, then when we both lived in Thibodaux we reconnected and

became good friends. That friendship took even a bigger twist 

when her Dad, Mr. Bill moved into St. Joseph Manor where my Mom 

was living at the time. 

Mr. Bill will be 90 in just 6 weeks, hurry up, rehab,

we have a a party to go to! 

Mr. Bill is special to me in many ways. We both are

artists, his came on later in life when he found that his terrible

sight was restored in a story he tells as a miracle.

He began drawing and I am proud to own one of his pieces.

The best reason Mr. Bill has a special place in my heart,

the morning after my Mom passed away at the Manor,

It was him I saw coming down the hall with his walker

shaking his head "NO"

I had cried some of course, but when I saw this man,

who had become such a good friend to my Mom in the

months they lived together and a friend to me as well,

I broke down in his hug, I know I wet his shoulder with my

tears, but my shoulder was wet as well as he broke down

on the loss my Mom, reminding me that she was not just

our Mom but friends to many. 

Since her passing I try and visit Mr. Bill when I can.

Each time I visit, I am fussed because it has been too long.

Celeste and I have remained good friends, texting often.

So, yesterday, I text,

"Is Dad still in hospital? Can I visit"

"Yes, please do he would love to see you!"

First I stop to buy him a new sketch pad, colored pencils,

pencil sharpener. 

I mean what else do you bring a fellow artist when he is stuck

in the hospital.

As I enter his room, he is asleep with Celeste at his side.

The minute he hears me he awakens and a big smile spreads

across his face.

"What you will do to get me to visit, a broken hip, really?"

We laugh and he agrees. I visit for about an hour,

Celeste and I and her wonderful Dad and I 

am honored that I have friends of all ages.

I can tell he is getting tired, I kiss and say my goodbyes.

I am not home yet, when I get this photo on text from

Celeste....

My Mr. Bill already drawing with his new supplies 

and it makes me smile, it makes my eyes wet,

to know he has something to do on these long days

awaiting the body to heal.

In 6 weeks this man will be 90, I tell him 

"Hurry up and heal, we have a party to attend!"

Friends, loved ones come in all shapes, sizes and ages 

and I am blessed with so many!

Another message from another level of life....

I say to so many, 

"I don't just paint portrait of homes,

unusual and beautiful things happen with each portrait"

Last week, those small miracles I speak of that we tend

to chalk up to coincidence is one I just have to blog about.

Because the home portrait is a gift I can't give too much away,

but let me tell the story as it happens.

Another concept that many know is that I pray

and question my client lots during their painting process.

So much so that I wonder if that client doubts my ability 

to paint the home. I just want to make sure I get everything right,

I want each client not to only be pleased but to also 

feel a pull at their heart strings when they see the real thing.

Photo's via phone just does them no justice.

With all that background, last week, I am finishing

up an order, adding on extra pieces that make my 

painting mixed media rather than just a painting.

I add established dates, keys, names, street address...

I ask this client, also a friend, Nicol,
 who is ordering for a family member who is a widower,

"Is there any sign they receive from their spouse on the other

side to let them know all is well?"

This family home is being sold because the owner is

just getting to an age that they can no longer keep up the home.

I know she is struggling with this decision as well 

as the family. As I await the answer from the client,

I am going through the thousands of things I have collected

over decades that may one day be used on a piece of my art.

I find this beautiful clear glass hummingbird.

It is in my hand as I remember how much my Aunt Tim loved

hummingbirds so I loved them too.

It is still in my hand when I hear my phone beep that 

a text is coming through.

Nicol texts me back,

"Yes, there are signs, pennies and HUMMINGBIRDS"

I become weak in the knees....

I literally have the glass hummingbird still in my hand!

What are the odds? This is not just a coincidence,

it is a sign from above and I hope that when this gift is given

they see this story as a sign from their loved one

that the right decision is made.

Goosebumps, I tell ya, things like this happen with my

work more than it does not happen.

I do not just paint homes on slate, 

I hope I put memories, joy and just maybe a small miracle

in the homes of others.

Thanks Nicol, for allowing me to share this story!

THE GRAND WEAVER....

I have once blogged about Libby,

a library app. that you can borrow books and audiobooks

from the library without ever leaving your home.

I listen to so many books while painting home portraits.

This week, I pick a book called

THE GRAND WEAVER by RAM ZACHARIAS.

It is an audio book explaining the ways of proof

he has found that there is another life after this one.

While I never struggled with believing there is 

another life after this one,

since my Mom died, I have struggled with the adventure

that takes place from this life to the next.

I know this is Faith and maybe my Faith is not where

it should be. So I begin listening to the audiobook 

read by the writer, he goes into the failings of 

us mortals thinking miracles no longer happen.

He share many stories of things that have happened only by 

the Grace of God.... one story in particular, has me not only 

teary-eyed but also making me realize that miracle abound us,

yet we so often trip it up to be "coincidental"

He tells of a story of an acquaintance  of his, Staples, while fighting in WWII,

on the day of August 8th, my birthday, his Navy vessel was hit and

began to sink. This man was swept overboard with the blast.

He had much damage to his body but he held on to 

a narrow life vest he was able to blow up with a trigger mechanism.

Many hours later, after being in the water, he was rescued 

by a passing Destroyer and returned to his safe place.

The Captain attempted to beach the liner to stop further

loss of lives but it failed. Although this man found himself

alive, he also found himself back in the water, in survival mode.

He was picked up again at lunch time by another vessel

the USS President Jackson. One of 500 of the survivors.

Staples, hugged onto this life vest knowing it had saved his life.

He memorized and scrutinized every written word, all the numbers

on this life vest. It had been manufactured by Firestone tire company

of Akron, Ohio and he memorized the registration number.

Once home and recuperating, he asked his Mother, who worked 

for Firestone, what the registration number meant.

His Mother began explaining that the company insisted 

on the personal responsibility to the help they were 

giving to the War effort, each employee was given their

own number, only used by that employer.

Staples, remembering every aspect of this life piece,

quoted out the number he had memorized from so many

months before. There was a moment of stunned silence and

then his Mother spoke,

"That was my own personal code, used by no one else but me,

I was responsible for that small piece of rubber that saved your life."

Amazing, the one who gave him birth and was responsible for

his DNA gave him rescue in the swirling waters.

For me, this is more than a coincidence but divine intervention.

A great story for all to see miracles like this happen daily,

we just have to look for them.

If looking for a new read, this one is worth your time!