Faith Like a Pear

In the fall of 2019, I was praying for my faith. Instead of the size of a mustard seed, I wanted it to be the size of a pear. A big, juicy pear. If I could move mountains with a mustard seed (and we sort of did if you considered coal ash remains of mountains), then what could I do with a pear? Besides, my friend, who had this giant faith was dying. It was so sad to watch. And even harder for me to accept. I continued to pray for miracles until the bitter end.

A short time later, I came across a book covered with a mother holding an umbrella over her kids and it was raining pears. I immediately grabbed it from the library. It was a book on faith written by Jeannie Gaffigan about facing a brain tumor.

It was really hard to press through realizing the topic. Danielle died from an almost ten-year brain tumor battle at the end of November 2019. Danielle’s brain tumor was the size of a juice box. In reading the memoir, Jeannie really suffered for months after her surgery. Like in the hospital, in the bed. Needed a tracheotomy. It was awful.

And while I was not there for Danielle’s recovery from her first and second craniotomy during the summer of 2010, I don’t recall this same severe state. I know her mother cared for her and helped her recover. But her ability to rebound seemed quicker in my memory.  She seemed to be living a full life. In reading, I realized yet another way that Danielle was a miracle.

I was gifted almost a full year after her third crainiotomy, nine years later. She rebounded quickly and never, ever complained to me. We had a remarkable year advocating for coal ash clean-up and making art together. We worked to plan the labyrinths and gardens for Walnut Cove. She even won a seat on the Town Council a few weeks before she passed away. Her life was a miracle. I am grateful to have witnessed it and grew in faith by her example.

Danielle’s passing also left me sad and tired. This video by UNC J-School Students captured my sadness. It was recorded in February and then I slept most of March 2020 once COVID hit.

Once I recovered from a very bad bronchial infection, I began painting in my studio. The pear above was the first piece that I painted. Oliver was also working in the studio the same night and splattered a wet, red paint across the pear. A perfect splash of cover. I framed the piece for Father’s Day 2021 and it now hangs in our living room.

I am so excited to have the story of our friendship and, most importantly, the story of Danielle’s courageous battle captured in “Under the Skin’ by Linda Villarosa. Linda is making the first stop of her book tour in North Carolina. She is coming to see the coal ash art exhibit at Greenhill. Please come out for both the book tour and the art exhibit in June.

Blend, Not Merge

This weekend ends a marathon of activity that I think all parents are beginning to identify as pure insanity. Throw in on top of that four birthdays in my immediate family and our anniversary. Someone identified a few May Day celebrations at the beginning of the month as an actual cry for help, “May Day, May Day.” Why yes, between the ribbons and poles, we are all bracing ourselves for the coming weeks. When my dad suggested on Saturday that we should approach a late lunch as “every man for himself,” I thought I would approach every May that way for the foreseeable future. Perhaps that would help make the excessive celebrations more enjoyable.

On Saturday night, I sat down on the couch and instantly fell asleep next to my mom. After my parents left and the kids were settled into a movie, I felt a forgotten urge to do something creative. I pulled out the paint crayons and started drawing. A lot of times, I feel unsatisfied with my drawings. I guess that’s just my internal critic. But this time, I listened along to a podcast while drawing.

I often enjoy “Do It For the Gram,” a podcast about the Enneagram by Milton Stewart, MBA. I especially appreciate the episodes about the 3-6-9 Harmony Triangle, since I am a 9. I find that it is helpful to hear about where I frequently go, either towards my 6 or 3. I am a Social or Counter 9, so I do not always identify with traditional information about 9s.

In this episode, Milton described different ways to focus for growth. For 9s, that’s listening to your body. I am actually very good at that, but perhaps it’s not my first go to. Plus he had a fascinating phrase that popped out at me, like a Lectio Divinia practice: Blend, Not Merge.

Milton described the difference between the two words, which were critical for understanding. To merge is to become enveloped in something and lose yourself. I would describe this as a tomato puree. I feel this lost feeling often. And honestly, when I am in a group dynamic and someone doesn’t give space to others … ever, I ghost. I would much rather work on my own thing. I always have a lengthy list in my planner. Blend is more like a mixing of others, but your key components of yourself are still present. More like a beef vegetable soup. Blending is an opportunity to not get lost in others, but also to bring all of the parts of yourself to the mix. I’m not the best at bringing my full self to the table. In other words, I am great at compartmentalizing, a 3 asset.

When I looked down at the drawing, I saw a mix of abstract, landscapes, and play all present on the page. Perhaps this is a message as I move forward into this next chapter of life. I can bring what it is unique about myself to a project and that includes all parts. And perhaps that is why I am called to do it and not someone else.

New Musings

I was an early adapter to blogging and enjoyed the creative outlet for most of the 2000s. However, when I set up The Lilies Project, I found it very hard to continue. I didn’t want it to appear that I was attempting to speak for an entire group. It was as if I lost my voice. It was my job to serve as a leader and find consensus. So my habit of writing fell to the wayside, along with the shift towards people posting primarily on social media. This is an attempt to get back into the habit of sharing some of my more personal pondering through my creative journey with The Lilies Project and beyond.

This week I started reading Ann Patchett’s latest collection of essays. She is my favorite author with her detailed narratives of family. Who from the South doesn’t love a good family story? One of her stories included a ghost and often her stories detail a love for places, even over their love for people. I certainly identify. I search for any works I’ve missed among the library stacks, hoping to discover something new. Patchett mentioned that her goal was to write 800 words, just to keep her writing. I am forever grateful, as a fan.

Writing is always the goal at the end of the year (or the quarter, if I am really on top of things) to which I wish I had dedicated more time. I think of our home as a place for fostering writers. Henry is an avid writer. I continue to practice morning pages, every since the late 90s. Lucy is frequently found writing on whatever device is closest to her, as long as she is not distracted by a group chat. And, well, with Oliver, I am really trying to drill down on catching up on his phonics lessons, while telling him that we are all writers. He is just a future writer. But I often am too distracted by administrative work to settle into my body and dedicate the time to write.

However 800 words feels doable. One morning I had this aha that I can create a new blog on The Lilies Project web site that is dedicated to my own ideas and not the work of the project. This post is just shy of half that word count. But that is the beauty of a blog post.

After what felt like a long slumber induced by COVID, coal ash is waking up again with new opportunities for advocacy and ideas for innovation. I’m trying to take all of the good habits I nurtured during the season at home and meld them into my advocacy work. It feels like a welcome promise to something new happening, after the illusion of an almost lackluster finally. Here is to doing less and to discovering something new.