I was talking with a friend yesterday, recounting how my “job” is so off the normal track. I got “derailed” during my years of recovery, counseling and my start in making art again, late at night, after coming home from teaching first grade. I wanted to be the artist I am, with a voice, through my art, to share God’s love with others. (Crazy idea.) Each night, I’d draw or paint something and post it on my little blog. I was determined, I’ll give myself that much.
People tell artists not to be artists as adults. (It’s cute for kids.) They think they are protecting them from a life of ruin, starvation and flophouses. That’s like telling math geeks not to ever, ever study and apply for jobs at Microsoft, Apple or any of a myriad of other companies. It’s like telling math geeks they should be wearing black and painting portraits.
Artists need to be artists. It’s just what we are created to be. I’ve sat with many tearful artists who are in another career because they were told not to be artists. They are carrying the pain of a loss that just won’t go away. Talk about angst. No, they don’t live in flophouses, but they have this deep, often silent, longing to be who they really are.
Well, I did become the artist; making art and sharing the love of Jesus is my job. Amazingly, who God created me to be, came forth. I’ve had deep, profound experiences with art ever since I left those former tracks. However, my funding for the international work has to be raised. (Each trip.) In a culture flooded with non-profits and wonderful organizations with which one can give, fundraising has its struggles. (Serving coffee at Starbucks is looking good right about now, and I don’t even drink coffee due to fighting the cancer!)
It remains to be seen as to whether I can sustain living and serving Jesus like this. He may have something else in mind. I’m not asking for money here, just sharing the struggle that many folks working in the non-profit world must go through. Prayer would be appreciated. Thanks for buying the art! So many of you have blessed me so much with supporting this type of art with your purchases. So, I am incredibly thankful for you.
This morning, I went to one of my favorite songs here to comfort my heart.
And no, I don’t live in a flophouse either. Or wear black.
Typical flophouse back in the day.