A RETURN VISIT....

 Yesterday a returning client who has become a friend

came to pick up his second home portrait.

He surprises his beloved wife twice this way.

The first time we met, he had one baby in a carrier 

and the other, holding his hand. 

I remember going out to his truck to help him with his little babies.

Yesterday he and his 4 year old son are coming through the back door

he tells me that when driving up his little one said,

"I remember coming to this house"

He was just two back then and the Cottage was gray!

How can this little mind remember such a thing.

We ask him, "What did you come here to do?"

"Pick up a picture of our house"

I am shocked this child can remember such detail.

"... and guess what you are here to do today?"

As he shrugs, I explain I have another picture for him.

I walk him over to their home portrait and his eyes grow big.

"What is this?"

"It's our house!"

We go on talking and as we point to the windows,

he tells me that there is his brothers room and

the two big windows? That is his momma and daddy's room.

I ask, " what will I see if I go through that door?"

Putting his tiny hands on the painted door that is so familiar to him,

"You go through there and take about 5 steps then you turn this way...

Then you will see it. My room"

All the while making hand motions.

Amazing that this sweet little boy is so animated and comfortable

because " he has been here before"

Knowing that somewhere in his little memory

there is this Cottage that paints people's homes.

When I repeat the story to my friend I get choked up.

Ya just never know when a little sweet boy will visit and bring you to tears.

PRAYING CLOCK

While searching for the blog about my clock that

sings every hour to share with a friend,

I realized there is a part two to that blog from January 2021.

Allie and Bryan gave me a clock and during my Covid days

I prayed each time it sang, every hour on the hour.

Once I was better, I told the Grandgirls the story 

and whenever they are here and they hear the tune,

they all stop wherever they are and pray for someone. 

They keep their prayers silent but if you hear the music

you can look around the cottage and will see each of them

stopped wherever they are with heads bent, eyes closed.

Yes, this would be enough for me, but it goes further.

During their Christmas party with friends,

as we sat on the floor of the dining room the clock began to sing,

And not Jemma, who I would expect an outburst from,

but Jilly announces to the 12 girls, " oh every time the clock goes off

we have to pray, and for the whole time the music played everyone 

was silent and yes, jemma had hands in prayer.

I love all the special things that are in their heart.

I hope when the Cottage is being emptied after I die

that one of them picks up that clock, remembers the story 

and puts it in their box of treasures to bring to their own adult home.

 

Remember before WWW?

Last night I was looking through old music sheets to find

the background for my next home portrait.

In one of the many music books I found this on one of the back pages.

 The magazine was published in 1967, I was four.

I have been through this magazine many times but just

never really paid attention to what was "WANTED"

Last night, being late and I was tired,

I glanced at one of the paragraphs and realized

this is how folks found a certain music piece or poem

or book quote back in the day.

No you tube or google to just type in Search,

you had to just write to a magazine, let them know 

what you were looking for and await for someone to hopefully

know what it is you were referring to.

Wow, how much this newer way of doing things have simplified our lives.

Yet, for me a lover of snail mail and sending cards and letters,

how exciting it must have been to perhaps get an envelope in the mail

addressed to you, to open it and there would be that song, that poem

you had been searching for.

You didn't have to worry about putting your address in a magazine

because honestly, nobody cared where you lived 

and the only people who would even give it a second glance 

would be those in which knew what you were talking about.

I had a  thought that what if I made this the new

"Message in a bottle" 

thing.

Look up on some search engine what they were looking for

and mail it to that address to see what response I may get.

I know most of these people are probably not alive anymore

but what if a relative still lives there?

Would they be as excited as I, to get this in their mailbox.

Stay tuned, my mind is spinning...

Those darn squirrels, live rent free up in my head!

ART LESSONS, LIFE LESSONS

For many Saturday mornings from the ages of 8 to 16,

while my peers were playing basketball or softball,

I was going to Godlyn Serigny's home for art lessons.

I was not going to be allowed to do physical sports because of

the cancer deal and by the age of 8, three years after the diagnosis,

I was still hanging around and because my Dad was an artist 

in his own right, he found Ms. Godlyn to teach me her fine craft.

Every Saturday I would be dropped off in this older home that

always smelled like linseed and old art books and be 

taught the fine art of oil painting, sketching and seeing a project 

to its finish. I was shown how important taking care of a paint brush was,

light sources and shading, how to make a very simple shaped sketch 

into a painting, how to mix the basic colors into every other color I may need.

I was also taught how to talk to adults, how to compliment other 

students art work and to take a compliment on my work as just that a compliment.

My parents must have understood that there I would learn aspects

of being a confident human being that I would not be fortunate to get playing sports.

So for 8 years, most Saturdays, my Daddy would bring me and pick me up 

three hours later knowing that it would be weeks before i would complete

one painting that they put their hard earned money into.

When I needed a new brush or tube of paint, Daddy would just

drive to the only place on the bayou that sold these things and buy it.

Then I became a teen and it was not something I wanted to do anymore.

Although I always played around with art in some way, I thought little

of the time spent here.

I had my family, raised my children and we did some crafts and things

but I truly believed I  had forgotten all the lessons I had learned in Ms. Godlyn's living room.

Then came the day when I said a Momma rosary to give me guidance

on what I should do with this craft business I called Mumsie's Cottage.

I was making a few dollars here and there but knew I could do more.

The next morning, I woke up to think of painting Rhett's home on ceramic tile

and old newspaper. 

Three and a half years later and I have not stopped painting home portraits.

Sometimes I would be surprised at just how naturally I could look at a color

and know how to mix it. Depth perception seems to come to me without thought

and light source I didn't even think of. 

Each time I bought a new brush I lovingly cleaned it after every stroke of a color.

Yesterday as I was straightening up my kitchen I glanced up at this painting,

the only one I have from those eight years of art lessons, 

done when I was twelve years old.

As I really looked at it, memories of all those Saturday's came back to me.

How hard it was to be taught where each light had to shine on a piece.

How the colors had to flow to make something look round.

That table?? was painstaking for me as Ms. Godlyn had me do it over and over

until she felt it was good enough.

I am sure there are some of her own strokes in this painting as she

probably got frustrated trying to tell me how to blend and just took my paint

brush and showed me how to do it.

I realized right then, that I did not forget anything she taught me.

I just stored it somewhere in the amazing brain each of us was given.

When the color mixing comes to me without thought, it is her memory that

put it there, Ms. Goldlyn Serigny.

So salute to all the teachers we have had in our lives.

I always believed I got most of my confidence from my Daddy who

told me as a young child who was bullied,

"Lil when you come through this kitchen door, it does not matter what

the world thinks of you, because here you are loved"

However, yesterday, while studying this masterpiece, I realized

that being confident is not the same as being conceited,

that being proud is not the same as bragging.

That those lessons were not just taught to me from a strong family 

but also those who believed they were just giving painting lessons.

 

THE BABY

AS I POSTED ON IG, WHAT IS MY FAVORITE THING ABOUT THIS PHOTO?

Not the fact that my Daddy, a professional photographer took it and 

it was one of the last ones he ever took in his career, although that is important.

It is not the way I am sitting on his very famous carpet that us Collins Clan

can tell if a photo was taken by our Dad or not.

Nope that is not it.

It is not the curl on top my head, nor the "Popierre" ears I was born with.

Not the dimple in my cheek or the birthmark that barely shows on my right arm.

For me, it is the simple fact that after 6 other children, i being the 7th

they still loved me enough to put the chain around my neck 

and shoes and socks on my feet.

That the smile I am wearing is because I am looking at

the two people on the other side of the camera that gave me life.

Gave me life more than once.

That at 43 and 45, thinking their family was complete,

accepted the fact that they would have another baby and loved me.

That five years later they would be faced with big decisions

for this little girl and would stand together in hope and faith

and do everything they could to save their youngest child

from cancer.

I cannot wait to thank them again in person wherever the next life takes me.

 

Not all are survivors...

 My first cousin died a few days ago of Pancreatic Cancer.

She gave it the good fight, and I believe her fight will help

to make this type of cancer curable in the future.

Survival's guilt, its a real thing.

When the grandgirls friend was diagnosed with cancer,

I hoped and wanted to believe she would be the one,

the one to break the curse of this type of cancer as I had

way back in 1968.

When Wilms Tumor was not so curable and I beat the odds at 5.

This was not to be for this sweet child and it was not to be

for my dear cousin.

Yet, here I am 53 years later, living my best life.

I hope that I make every day special in that I know how 

fortunate I am. Not to feel the survival's guilt but to

live as though I am living for all those other hero's who 

have gone on but left their mark in the cancer world.

I will live with all those in mind knowing that I hold

the torch for so many others who have passed.

When I forget, I will have things to remind me of them

to get me back on tract. 

So Many people right now are fighting their own cancer battles,

find one and be a light for them.

Mail them cards, pray for their families.

It is the least I can do while being the one chosen

to survive the dreaded disease. 

Happy Saturday everyone!

Jemma's faith at 6 years old.

I was on mumsie duty for a few nights. It was time for Jemma to go to bed.

We lay in her mom and dad's bed and I sing to her prayers and little songs they request.

One of the songs Jemma loves has this verse:

   TAKE IT, IF SHE GIVES YOU HER HEART DON'T YOU

BREAK IT, SHE'S THE BEST THING THAT YOU'LL EVER HAVE..."

She asks what the song means to me and I tell her, something maybe her Daddy will sing to her Crush. Then she begins talking about "Bad people" and what you can do if you see bad people. I say I would probably call the "Poe Poe". No in true Jemma fashion- "Pray, Mumsie, you can always pray."

 OH, this girl - who doused herself in holy water when she got off the bus as she recited from her prayer card. The very same gal who literally teared up on Christmas morning when she said to her family,  "guys, the true meaning of Christmas is family."

 I close my eyes and pretend to sleep because girl will never stop talking if you don't. She is laying on her back and I peak past my eyelashes to see if she is falling asleep. Her eyes are closed and her long eyelashes are showing in the light of the bathroom. 

But she is not sleeping. Her two hands are linked together in prayer. Every few seconds she uncurls her fingers to do the sign of the cross, I think her prayer session is over. Not yet, she relinks them to pray again and does this at least five times.

This makes me want to cry. Our flightly blonde gal who wants to be a "you-tuber when she grows up" has all the faith of a mustard seed. Her innocence and pure heart makes me never want her to grow up. 

Eventually she turns over but not before wrapping my arm around her like a warm blanket.

Another song comes to this Mumsie mind...

YOUR GOING TO MISS THIS, YOUR GOING TO WANT THIS BACK

YOUR GOING TO WISH THESE DAYS HADN'T GONE SO FAST.

Smith Memorial

If you have ever went to Grand Isle prior to Katrina you would have passed

Right in front of Smith. Memorial. 

It was located in lower Golden Meadow on the bayou side  

If you were from our Bayou Lafourche, you also knew Noonie Smith. 

She owned this smallest Chapel as well as the Novelty store across The street. 

Noonie was one of a kind with the best giggle ever. 

If you visited her Novelty store she knew you and you knew her. 

She was a stranger to no one.

Yet for as happy and joyful as she was she also knew 

The difficulty of loosing a child as she lost two 

When they were very young. 

This was her reasoning behind Smith’s Memorial. 

Although her little boys were not buried here they had

Crosses on each side of the little church. 

It became a prominent spot for those who were passing through to Grand Isle. 

Many would enter into the four pew Chapel to pray, 

Add their prayer intentions to the prayer book 

Or leave a statue in thanks for answered prayers.

A few weeks before the storm that took this landmark from us,

I rode down there to take photos. 

Roddie always loved this little place and had the photo 

Made into poster size and has it hanging in his home now. 

I have also always favored this sacred little place and knew one day

I would paint it. This week I was able to do that. 

.

8x10 originals $60

8x10 PRINTS $25

5x7PRINT $15

NOTECARDS $2.50/PIECE.

She's the oldest...

On the day that Simone spoke to me and C for three hours days 

before she died, one of the things she said was.

"...AND LILLY, ALWAYS HAVING TO SAY WHEN WE ARE TOGETHER,

'SHE'S THE OLDEST AND I AM THE YOUNGEST, 23 YEARS BETWEEN US..."

This was hysterical to C and I because it is a fact that anytime we are all together I 

do say that. Not because I wanted to embarrass her but because I 

am so proud of the family my parents built.

This weekend The Collins Clan sisters spent a long weekend together

for the first time since Loosing our Taunt.

The circumstances for the gathering were not the best but as always,

we try and make the best out of every situation.

When the arrived in Plaquemine we decided on supper at Walk-Ons.

In our true fashion, we laughed lots and shared memories of times past.

Our waitress, Hannah had a great time with us and as I explained

to her our reason for the celebration in true "lil fashion"

"We are all sisters, first time we get together since our oldest sister died"

I then look to my left and was about to say,

"She is the oldest..."

And there was my sister Veronica. Not our Taunt mone,

I realized yet another aspect of the great loss we all have shared

loosing our sister. I will never be able to say my Motto in reference to 

Simone again. I also realized that when I turned to the left,

my oldest living sister was the one sitting next to me.

... and I got teary eyed and choked up.

For all the gatherings Covid took from us, 

for the fact that because Taunt was 23 years older than me,

that age difference made her frail and unable to travel with us.

For the fact that we are all getting older and one by one, it will be one less

each time we loose another.

Growing older would not be so hard if we didn't have to face the facts

that the times we have together are getting shorter.

So we make a pact right there with drinks in our hands,

we will do this every quarter at least.

That the Collins Clan is important and must continue.

That when it is each of our times to say goodbye to life as we know it,

the others will be at our sided to help us make the transition to the

next phase of existence where we choose to believe our sister and

our parents will be waiting for us, along with the other siblings we

did not get to know as part of us.

Life, its a funny thing but it's temporary and as I have heard 

many times, we are all dying every day.

Enjoy the moments, Covid cannot take away the love.

Make amends if necessary and be a part of your siblings lives.

Put said past hurts and love them for time will break us apart 

but we shall always be united.

(last time we gathered together to visit our Taunt Mone, July2021)

(Seeing our sister all together for first time after Covid, to hug her, touch her)

(Our first outing as the Collins Clan Sisters after loosing our Mone)