Hoarding then purging treasures.

Accumulation

As I continue to sift through closets, the garage, attic, drawers, files, boxes, I am amazed at what has come through my doors and been stored in forty years.  I have had a headache for the last week.  Granted, it is diagnosed as a sinus infection, but I suspect it is the weight of this “stuff” boggling my mind and burdening my spirit.  I continue attempting how to dispense all of these items. 

I have sent fifty plus boxes to the auction and will take a large load tomorrow.  The mission truck will take about thirty boxes plus some furniture.  I have given linens and pottery to friends, packed boxes for the kids with the few treasures they want, and still the house seems full.  I have had a huge yard sale and two art sales. I have worked at giving, donating, selling, and packing for 25 days.

How do we accumulate so much?  I knew my art room was packed with supplies, but I never imagined I had so many magazines, paints, papers, scrapbooks, and stamps.  If this move has taught me anything, it has shown me accumulation is a curse.  I have tried to store up manna, and God clearly said it could not be done.  I never realized manna could be defined as abundance, collections, supplies, or antiques.  Now, I understand why someone declared, “The greatest inheritance to your children is to rid your home of collections from the past years.” 

I am pledging that I am done with carrying items into my house.  I desire to keep our new home clear of anything extra.  I suspect my hoarding is a result of my mother, grandmother, and grandfather, who were reared in poverty and saved everything to be reused or redesigned into a useful item.  I apparently mimicked their collecting even though I have not known their kind of poverty.  After twelve years of retirement, I realize I should have tried this purging much earlier.  Instead, I went to conventions and learned new things to make, do, and collect.

On with my sorting and giving and packing.  This life lesson is most sobering and exhausting.  

Plates of Sunshine and Pod Play

  “Focus,focus,focus. Be here.  Appreciate this moment,” the yoga teacher instructed.  Just then, a young porpoise appeared, breached, and played in the water very near the beach where 107 participants rejoiced at Portia’s (my name for her) appearance.  We appreciated Portia joining our class.  Portia joined our pod for a few minutes as she does many mornings.  I think Portia wants to be a part of us gathering sunshine on our plate.

Gathering sunshine on my plate is a buffet of life experiences.  For example, I smile incessantly and uncontrollably every time I walk along the coastline and see the shell treasures.  The sea delivers these gifts to all who walk by.  The shells are magnets.  I cannot help to bend over and collect just one more.  I marvel at their contour, pastel colors, and distinct shapes. I am sensitive to their smoothness or roughness.  I often will pick up one that has been broken yet shaped by the constant sifting and pulling of the waves.  Today I picked up a colorful and smooth rectangle.  I included it in my collection because it reminds me that sometimes even when I am broken, I can be smoothed and refined by God’s loving touch.  I appreciate each shell for the life it has led, the hardship it has known, or the long way it has traveled.  

On the shore, the shells are so plentiful that a passerby might not realize how each one is special.  The clams discard their homes and leave perfectly shaped fans. Tiny whelks are ornate on the outside and smooth and beautiful on the inside.  Large whelks allow me to hear the sea long after I have departed.  These shells become my plate of sunshine for this day.

Sometimes my plate is filled with fulfillment as I reach out to a child who is in need of a hug or a smile.  Another time I give a meal to a disabled neighbor.  Many times it is just a peck on the cheek for my husband when he feels unmotivated because of his stiff back. My purpose this day is to make them feel special, wanted, and encouraged.

Giving to others is my shell treasures to them.  I see the look on their faces and that is my treasure. This small gesture puts sunshine on their plate.  The sea teaches me to give freely and produce constantly.  These are the things that create my plate of sunshine.

As I awaken and read the scriptures, I am so filled with joy that God has offered me such treasures in His promises, His parables, and His recorded words.  These words fill my plate with sunshine and begin my day.  Whether it is Portia, sea walks, or God’s word, I can fill my plate each day.  I must find these treasures, see them, feel them, and search. “Focus, focus, focus.”  Only then can I know His light and creation.

                                                                                                                                                        

Learning to paint

Blue Lady
When I painted this lady, I used all ultramarine blue to lay her on the canvas. I just started painting and watched her appear. My sister was visiting and giving me painting lessons. I loved how sister would guide me carefully through each layer of painting. She would watch me design and paint. She sat on the porch with me and watched me, and then she would go in the house to watch TV. Then, she would return and peek at what I was doing.

Betty Ann has painted over sixty years and produces magnificent art works. Perhaps this is why I never tried to paint. I knew I could not paint like her. She had always been the artist in our family. I was the writer and the teacher. Now, in my sixties, I am trying to be a painter. She had encouraged me for years. I just was too busy rearing children and teaching school. Retirement gave me time for the plunge into oil paint.

I was trying a new technique I had studied on this blue lady. I painted her in an impressionistic style but decided to give her eyes detail and focus. When I would get stuck, I would call to my sister. “Sister, come look. Are her eyes too far apart? Are the shadows right?" I thought she would have blue eyes and suddenly I had painted them brown. I tried to make her have long straight hair, and it turned out curly. My sister just laughed and told me that someone was guiding my hand and my artist eye.

It was reassuring to have my sister available for questions and critique. I had lost my fear of not being able to paint as well as her. I replaced it with a hunger for her knowledge. She had training and skill that I needed. She was willing to offer it and help me learn my way around a canvas. This day was such a warm memory. I love my sister dearly. She is six years my elder, but no one knows that. We are still two girls playing, laughing, and creating.

When I was five, Betty Ann would have art lessons on our front porch in Florida. I loved watching her draw the things her teacher suggested. Mrs. Hoight, her art teacher, would gently suggest and show Betty where shadows should be. She explained that painting was just using light and dark to form the desired images. Now, sixty years later, Betty was giving me a porch lesson in painting. What she had learned, she was sharing with a new artist. My sister’s instruction was filled with wisdom and laughter.

The day of the blue lady painting taught me to love my sister even more. The day brought forth a painting that seemed to pop out of the canvas with such ease. This opportunity was provided by God. I just trusted God to move in me. I know my own skills and talents are limited. I must rely on Him when I paint because I get stuck and don’t have my sister on the porch to help me. I learned that porch day that my sister wasn’t my competitor but instead my advocate. My paintings were not going to look like hers because I had one year of experience and she had sixty. I relied on God and asked for His help. Each time I approach a new canvas, I remember my porch teachings at five and sixty-five. Both brought me pleasure and learning. However, best of all, the lesson taught me art expression is a gift from God. We are made in His image. He finds pleasure when we learn to create.