spring clean

isn't it amazing what sunshine can do?  yesterday i awoke to grey skies and muddled my way through laziness.  today:  blue skies, puffy clouds, sunlight streaming in through the windows and sha-bam!  i was a cleaning tornado.  i dusted my baseboards.  i vacuumed my bathroom fans (which, by the way, were disgusting).  i bought a groupon for my furnace and vents to be cleaned.  i even fertilized my succulents!  a good spring clean, and man!  does it ever feel good.
we just spent four nights at a cabin on Galiano Island.  and when i say "cabin", i mean ginormous house on the edge of a bluff looking over the ocean.  we went with scott's brother and family, and scott's parents also came up for a night, with two of their friends.  it was a lively, full house.  incredible amounts of noise.  lots of food, games, rainbow loom bracelets adorning every wrist (my son had them lined all the way up to his elbow), sea shells and naps (sporadic, due to the incredible amounts of noise).  on monday afternoon, my favourite day, i experienced the sheer bliss of spending hours lying in my bed, with the window opened and a warm breeze blowing and the sound of the ocean humming, drifting between sleep and reading the latest flavia de luce novel.  i mean, YES!  that's what i'm talking about when i imagine the word "holiday". it was a holy day.  not because i was doing any 'spiritual' work, but because something magically holy happened inside of me.
here's what took place right before i had this amazing afternoon:  i cried.  i cried while i was out on a walk with my husband, having just come from gathering shells at the sea shore.  i cried because i had just made it through 6 very intense weeks - starting my new administrative job, as well as teaching two art classes - and the vision that helped me make it through, the vision of 4 nights at a cabin relaxing with my family, was not coming true.  i was not relaxing.  i was cooking and parenting and cleaning and sharing.
we came back from the walk and had lunch and i felt overwhelmingly tired.  emotional.  spent.  i told my brother and sister-in-law that i was going to have a nap, and apologized for not helping with the lunch dishes, assuring them i'd take care of dinner.  and my brother-in-law said "nobody's keeping track.  there's no checks and balances here.  go take a nap".
i walked upstairs with his words ringing in my ears: "there's no checks and balances here".  i slept, i woke, i slept, i read, and all the while these words were digging into me.  sanctifying.  cleaning.
                 nobody's keeping track.
                            there's no checks and balances here.
my dear brother extended grace to me.  a grace i was not extending.  i was keeping track.  i was checking and balancing my own sacrifices with those of the people around me.     yuck.
how many times am i checking the score in my marriage?  in my friendships?  in my roles as daughter, daughter-in-law, sister, pastor's-wife?  why do i keep track of how many nights i've put the kids to bed by myself this week?  why do i carry those actions like trumps in my hand?  i know - because i am not living in grace.  i'm living in a system of debt and payment.
how immensely freeing it was to rest that afternoon, knowing that no one cared,  that i would not have to make up for it!!  and let me tell you, how freely and joyously i wanted to make dinner that night!  i wanted to cook and clean and parent and share - out of a place of gift instead of duty.
and now i have an even greater appreciation for my in-law-siblings, and see how they live with this gracious extension of hospitality.  it's beautiful.  jon and alyssa, you're beautiful people.  i am honoured to be related and in relationship with you.
what a timely gift this grace received has been, as i travel through Lent considering the grace i require in my every breath.  an inner spring cleaning - and in such a gentle way.   i see my motivations are in desperate need of a good vacuum - if only i could get my dyson down in there.  i long to operate my life by inhaling and exhaling gracious deeds, gracious thoughts, gracious attitudes.  to give for the simple reason that i can.  to love and be loved freely, without tally or debt.
and i pray the same for you.  as the sun creeps back into our lives, may we find the motivation and energy we need to scrub away the accumulating mess.  a truly thorough spring clean.

crustacean and creation

I am sitting at my kitchen table with sun on my back.  the window beside me is open a crack, just enough for a sniff of freshness and the enchanting sound of our creek babbling away.  it feels like spring.  it looks like spring - crocus are popping up to my delight all over the yard - but I will not be fooled.  yesterday we nearly drowned in torrential cold rain and last week there was actually snow (!!!), so i will embrace this day as a miracle and expect nothing more.  this is how my mother encourages me to live - keep the expectations low so as to minimize disappointment.  i usually find this life-orientation depressing,  i would much rather live in anticipatory excitement (naive though it may be), but sometimes it's necessary.  March in BC is not a time for getting your hopes up.

and on that sad note, we have as of yet not located Curious, the lost hermit crab.  i think my children have moved on though.  my daughter has been researching turtles and my son informed us that his pet of choice is a lobster.  sorry?  yes, a lobster.  here's a dinner conversation you wish you had been at:

"i wish i had two lobsters, like my friend at school"
       "your friend has two lobsters?!"
"yes, they're his pets.  and i wish i had two lobsters as pets because then if there was someone being a bully at school i would just run home and get them out of their tank and run back to school and then they would snap the bully and then he would stop".
       "your friend has two lobsters?!"

this is what i imagine occurred at this "friends" house.  dad comes home with two lobsters "look what someone gave me for that job i did for them" (this would have had to be the dad, no way the mom would fall for such a scheme), mom says "wow....?".  they research how to cook them and fish out the stock pot from the crawl space and get the water boiling and are just about to put them in when the mom says "i hear they scream" and then the "friend", who has just come into the kitchen with a lego problem, says "what?!  they scream!  you can't kill them mom!!  i want them as pets!" and the mom and the dad are that type of mom and dad that don't ever want to disappoint.  so they put the lobsters in the bathtub and go to the pet store and spend hundred of dollars on a salt water tank and every time mom walks in the friends room she wants to swear.

we will not be purchasing lobsters as pets.  even if they are anti-bullying ones.


this week i had the honour of being the chapel speaker at Langley Christian High School.  i was asked to share about my identity as an artist, and what it has taught me about God and myself. i will sign off by including a snippit of what i shared.  it was a great experience for me. it seems whenever i speak to a group of people i am struck with two things:  i love public speaking, and i learn so much when i prepare a talk. maybe i'm not learning new information, but i'm solidifying some understanding, either about God or myself.

I spent a lot of time in my presentation talking about my struggle with accepting that i actually am an artist. later in the day i was told that a teacher, after hearing me speak, decided that he was going to start painting again, and i instantly teared up with excitement and gratitude.  how silly that i so quickly recognize and celebrate artistry in others, but downplay it in myself.  silly silly girl.  here's what i said (although in person i ad-lib with bits of silliness).

when I create something I am echoing the work of my Creator.  sometimes it’s difficult to label sitting down at my easel, with a movie playing on my laptop and a cup of tea beside me,  pushing paint around a stretched piece of cloth, as work.   recently I read this quote, which really encouraged me,
“many of us equate difficulty with virtue – and art with fooling around.  hard work is good.  a terrible job must be building our moral fiber.  something – a talent for painting, say – that comes to us easily and seems compatible with us must be some sort of cheap trick, not to be taken seriously.  on the one hand, we give lip service to the notion that God wants us to be happy, joyous, and free.  On the other, we secretly think that God wants us to be broke if we are going to be so decadent as to want to be artists. do we have any proof at all for those ideas about God?
Looking at God’s creation, it is pretty clear that the creator [himself] did not know when to stop.  there is not one pink flower, or even fifty pink flowers, but hundreds.  snowflakes, of course, are the ultimate exercise in sheer creative glee.  no two alike.  this creator looks suspiciously like someone who just might send us support for our creative ventures.” (Cameron "the Artists Way")

the God we worship as Christians is a God of extravagant beauty.  He’s a God who is unceasingly creating,  boundlessly creative, and lavish to his creations.

my tagline on my website is “create beautiful”.  I heard a quote years ago from Dosteovsky:  “beauty will save the world”, and on some levels I believe that it is true.  because God is in all that is beautiful, and it is His desire to make all things beautiful, redeemed and holy. 
 I read this sentence recently: “the world is more delicious than it needs to be”, it’s also more fragrant, more melodious, more colourful.  God creates because of the sheer delight he takes in creating, and He wants us to delight in it too.  Food could have been tasteless fuel, colour just shades of grey, no singing, or dancing.  the arts are not necessary to the survival of a species, but they are essential to the enjoyment of life.   art in all its forms is a gift of love.  it’s also the Creator wanting His Creations to know Him, to look at a flower and think “wow.  God must deeply love me to create this just for me to enjoy”.

my hope is that one of my paintings, hanging in someone’s home or in a board room or school hallway, will incrementally change the space it’s in, from something utilitarian, or sterile, or boring, to something refreshing and encouraging and lovely.  a little echo of God on the wall.
sometimes I annoy myself with how I paint flowers.  what’s the point of a flower?  I look at other artists who create works for social impact, to fight injustice, to expose darkness, and I think, why am I painting flowers?  who cares?!

I was in one of these self-condemning moods recently, and I happened to read the sermon on the mount - the greatest sermon preached by the greatest preacher, the smartest and most creative human being of all time -  and I realized that he talks about flowers.  “consider flowers” he says.  “how they don’t work, they don’t sew, they don’t purchase, but they’re dressed better than any human being, because God dresses them.  so don’t worry about what you’re going to wear, God will clothe you”.  He was speaking to people from every social class, but I bet the bulk of them were poor, and lived with an undercurrent of worry.  Jesus looks at them in their distress, knowing the weight of worry on their lives, and his words for spiritual, social and economic impact were “look at flowers”.

so I do.  I consider flowers.  I look at them deeply.  I revel in their intricacies.  their colour and shape.  from bud to flower to seed head – they’re so incredibly beautiful.  I consider how their needs are met.  how utterly dependant they are.    how they live in the rhythm of the seasons, and they reproduce themselves through dying, and gain more lustre through painful pruning.  there’s a lot to learn from a flower. 
  

don't you just want to hear more?  sorry folks, you'll have to track down a high school student, who probably has forgotten me already. (insert debbie downer weh-wah sound here).

i must be off to make some gluten-free dairy-free cornbread, a.k.a. to create something beautiful.  i hope you find your Creator in your creating this week, and are not attacked by crustaceans.

a curious tragedy.

well, as if dead rainbows last week wasn't enough, tragedy has struck the anderson household yet again.

on wednesday it was discovered that our hermit crab, curious, is no longer in his cage.  his cage which is on my daughter's bookshelf, around 3 feet from the floor.  curious has escaped.  has flown the coop.  has kamikazed to his death.  or, disintegrated.  i even had the thought that maybe curious was a very spiritual hermit crab (he has heard many bedtime prayers) and was just taken up into the air like Elijah.   because the truly shocking part is:  his shell is still there.  in the cage.  curiouser and curiouser.

now, anyone out there who is remotely like me, is instantly picturing a naked hermit crab (as much as one is able to - what does a hermit crab look like with no shell?) lying in wait in some dusty corner, desperate for a stray toe, a wandering finger to come to close, and then, NAB!  i know, it's terrifying, even if the crustacean is less then 2 inches long.  it's been 4 days and it's quite probable that curious is dead, but if i start picturing him lurking...

okay, i have to stop picturing that.

when we first discovered the break-out i very bravely picked up all four shells in the cage and brought them frightfully near my eye to see if there was somehow a little crabby hiding in it's depths.  but i have to confess to you, that every time i turned a shell over there was a voice inside me saying "please be empty, please be empty, please be empty".  incredibly selfish when my daughter was looking at me with her huge despairing eyes.

she cried in bed the following night.  "i loved curious!" she moan,.
"well, honey, he wasn't exactly a cuddly pet"
"no"
"he wasn't a pet that played or that was even friendly, really"
"he was more friendly than george!" [the other hermit crab that died on the drive here from saskatoon]
"yes, i'll give him that.  but... he was a.... hermit."

who thought of making a hermit crab a pet in the first place!? didn't the word hermit clue them off to the fact that these crabs are not looking for loving companionship?  [just to remind you, we were given these crabs, so you can just stop that train of thought about how stupid we were to buy them to begin with].

if i don't sound incredibly sensitive or sympathetic to my daughter, trust me, you wouldn't be either.  one look at those wandering antennae eyes and snapping claws...what if he's under my bed right now?!  no, okay, i did try and console her with the fact that curious died in a fitting way - on an adventure.  he lived up to his name.  "curiosity killed the hermit crab".  he threw off the confining structures of his world, broke free from stereotype and conventional thought, and walked out of that shell.  he died a free crab. (as i was waxing eloquent on these points she looked up at me and said "in this light, it looks like you're joking" - as though, the dim light of her bedroom must be tricking her eyes because there's no way her mother would be trying to comfort her in such a manner.  whoops!)

and to her credit, my daughter has handled the searing loss quite well.  just last night she was online researching turtles.  which, from what we can tell, are highly poisonous and should never be considered as a pet.  fantastic!  my life as an adult pet-owner has been quite the ride:  gerbil poop in the kitchen, escapee hermit crab, why not add poisonous environmental hazard to the mix?  how about a komodo dragon?  electric eel?  baboon?  oh the places we can go.

and to you curious: despite your general lack of affection, gross ugliness and obvious unhappiness, you will be missed.  my daughter's heart was big enough to welcome you in - as she makes pets of wood bugs and names earth worms and once carried a wounded dragon fly around on her shoulder for an entire afternoon.

please don't take it personally when i say that, wherever you are, i hope you are no longer among the living.

okay, i have to stop picturing that.

dead rainbows.

'i saw a dead rainbow today mom.  it was lying in a puddle.'
                                      -my son, this week, 6 years old.

i started to explain that there was probably oil or gas or some sort of chemical in the puddle, and that it wasn't the same as a rainbow, and that nothing had died.....
scott started explaining that that's what happens to rainbows when someone finds their pot of gold.  scott is by far the best at 'creative explanation' in our family  (he hates it when i call it what it is: lying).   i wonder which of our children will inherit his giftedness.  since i found an entire game hidden behind a lunch box today, a game my son had assured me he had cleaned up, i think i know who to bet on.  along with the fact that he saw a dead rainbow.

i have made it through my first of five weeks of crazy, where i'm working at my new job and teaching two art lessons on top of what has here-to-fore been my full time job of being a housewife and artist.  in the last two weeks i have moved from having no schedule, other than housework and painting, to having to colour coordinate my day planner.  well, i probably don't have to colour coordinate, but it does give me a sense of satisfaction :).  green for meals, blue for household, black for appointments, purple for work, pink for art classes.  it's a freakin' dead rainbow!

there is definitely a degree of satisfaction when i hit the pillow at night - like, "i'm doing it".  i'm the modern woman who works and keeps the house humming and makes valentines and attends PTA meetings and does her hair.  i have joined the ranks of bagged lunches and professional dress and speaking sentences like "sorry, i work that day".  it's been almost exactly 10 years since i've done this, and MAN am i ever filled with gratitude that i didn't have to when the kids weren't in school.  and MAN am i ever filled with awe at my friends who do!  it is a constant rotation of responsibilities.  but also a satisfying sense of competence - like i'm living at my highest potential.  add any more speed and i might literally explode, but i'm humming along the highway, marveling at how quickly the trees are flying by me, and periodically enjoying the wind in my hair.

and tomorrow i stop the car.  sabbath.  hallelujah.  hopefully the rain will slow and scott and i can find the ocean tomorrow.  it's harder to find than you'd think - like all of your responsibilities and worries and laziness keeps you from its shore.  but the last time we were there it felt like we were at heaven's edge.  we were shrouded in mist, rocks jutted out eerily from the cloud and water, seagulls walked right up to where we sat and looked at us questioningly.  we saw a seal pop it's head silently above the surface, and scuba divers waddling to shore.  it was silent, save for a few bird cries and the lap of the small waves.  it ignited something in me - dissatisfaction? desire? and also quieted me.  the seemingly endless vista.  i wonder what it must have felt like before people knew vancouver island was there, before the world was mapped, and the ocean spoke of chaos and the unknown.  to some the brink of adventure.  to some the brink of terror.

and now i stand at the brink of a new week, my toes wet, the tide pulling me deeper in.  will i let the rainbow of my weeks work terrify me, or will i adventurously plunge?    will i kill or be killed?

right now it's 50/50.

movie lesson

on wednesday night scott and i, exhausted and in need of escape, watched the movie "about time".  i won't give anything away, except that it's a great movie, and that one of its themes is the pleasure of living life to it's fullest:  eyes open to wonder, a heart of gratitude, simplistic enjoyment.

friday was a pro-d day, and a day for me to gear down from my recently accelerated life of work and art classes and painting and mothering and housework and wife-ing.  a day with long stretches unclaimed.  i thought i would do my best to enjoy it 'to the fullest'.

i kept my ears open, and heard the hygienist in the cubical down the hall exclaim over my son "best seven year old ever!!!"  i then marinaded in the moment of telling her "he's actually six".   i listened as my daughter explained to her little brother that the tooth fairy couldn't bring him the giant pokemon tin because "she can't carry it in her little hands!!".  i cherished the little smile the sales lady gave me when i quickly bought some pokemons behind his back.

i washed the floor to taylor swift.  seriously - if you start feeling sorry for yourself halfway through your vacuuming, i highly suggest her "red" album for a quick cleaning pick-me-up.  there's something about the tune "i knew you were trouble when you walked in...." that just makes my cleaning regime as close to fun as i think it can be.  i belted it out and set my floor to sparkle.  my kids sang along as they built lego.

i told my little ones the story of how their father showed me my first blue angel when we were first married, and how i laughed the hardest i have ever laughed.  and how lighting your farts on fire is actually akin to waving around an uncontrolled flame thrower so under no circumstances should they attempt it.  and their eyes were round as saucers and they covered their smiling mouths with their hands and looked at their father like he was a walking miracle.

i kept my eyes on the row while my family watched the lego movie, watched my son look like he was on the verge of tears when the main character was told he wasn't special, later watched both my kids laughing their heads off, teetering at the edges of their seats, and my husband smiling with his mouth wide.  i was sitting beside leah and at one point i said "i am seriously crying in the lego movie" to which she responded "i'm bawling" and then we laughed and laughed.  i love watching movies with leah, i can always count on her to have my emotionally sensitive back.

later we crossed the street walking like lego characters - "no knees!" i cried.

so, i would say it worked, this "in time" theory.  i thoroughly enjoyed my highly normal day of dentist and cleaning and mothering and friendship.  i suppose walking through your day with the expressed desire of looking for the best in whatever comes is a lot more fun then my usual - just making it through whatever comes.

so here's to tomorrow with open eyes and ears and heart, tastebuds ablaze, deep breath, fingertips alive, and spirit soaring.  i hope you live it to its fullest.

(whoops!  i posted this three days ago with the wrong movie title at the beginning.  yikes!  that could have got me in some serious trouble...thankfully the movie "in time" which i had mistakenly referenced is a Justin Timberlake movie, which i have also seen, but did not learn any life lessons from)

grump

i woke up grumpy today, for no apparent reason.  i ran through the scenarios while journalling...am i sick? am i over tired?  did i eat something i shouldn't have? am i stressed?  over worked?  pms?  nope, nothing.  just grumpy.  so, shoulders back, smiles on, fight fight fight!!!  working through a day where your reflexive expression is "be quiet!" is a lot harder than surviving a day founded on a positive outlook.
but here i am, children reading in bed, a small bowl of olives and my computer.  i've survived.

my children are actually reading in the same bed, side by side on their tummys, one with garfield, another with a junior novel about pre-teens who are remarkable responsible for their ages and have started a cupcake company.  man my nine year old is sheltered.  she stirred a pot at the stove for thirty seconds today, terror written all over her face, until she finally bailed with a "it's too hot!".  she did however let me know that cooking safety dictates saucepan handles face into the stove.  and people poo-poo our public school system.

the reason they are sharing a bed is that today one of my husbands dreams for our home came true:  we bought a loft bed for our son.  his room is teeny tiny, covered in lego, and sticking his bed four feet in the air has literally doubled his play space.  yippee scott!  he's been researching and checking craigslist and dreaming for months now.  i don't know who's more excited about the purchase, my son or my husband.

maybe that's why i'm grumpy - images of my 6 year old careening off his bed in the middle of the night.  stop it janet! stop it!

there is much to tell you in the way of celebration.  it has been a full month, getting my website up and running and planning two art classes that begin in february.  the plan back in september when i entered my season of "rest" was that the season would end in january.  things looked a little bleak when the second week of the month hit and i was still unemployed.  i have been putting a lot of pressure on myself to make some money - pressure that feels like i'm a boiling pot with a too-tight lid.  my mind swirling with ideas and what ifs and hows, and sometimes why.  guilt.  dismay.

needless to say, i was in no mood for blogging.

but something miraculous happened this week.  truly.
to give you the full girth of the miracle i need to back up a bit.  in november i was offered a job as an executive administrator for the hypnosis society of canada.  i know, totally random, but a friend at our church currently holds the position and needs to give it up.  it was great hours, great pay...great.  but there was this little niggling feeling about it that wouldn't let up.  i talked to multiple counselors that i admire and all confirmed what i believed, that hypnosis is a viable and helpful psychiatric tool.  i had seen an ad for one of the society's functions though, and it mentioned something about accessing your past lives.  i was concerned that i would be working for a foundation that i could not wholeheartedly endorse.  so i said no.  which was difficult, let me tell you.  definitely a step of faith.

last sunday one of the counselors that i had called to chat with about the hypnosis society position beckoned me over to him. [ it was one of those movie scenes where he's across the room, curling his finger my direction, telling me to come over, and i'm looking behind me wondering who he's summoning, and i point my finger to my chest - "me?!"  yes, me.]  he let me know that a man in the church who is a financial adviser was looking for administrative help.  "should i give him your name?" he asked.

by friday i had the job.  and it's awesome.  walking distance from my house - i could walk with the kids to school and just carry on.  positioned in the neighbourhood shopping complex - above the library of all places (!!!), beside my dentist, and meters from my grocery store.  really flexible part time hours where i can still be home when the kids are.  good pay.  and, best of all, i am working for a man that uses his financial wisdom to make the lives of others better.  a great, god-fearing man who i can wholeheartedly endorse. yay!  it is such a gift to find meaningful work that will not follow me home and will not place me in any moral dilemmas.  seriously.  miracle.

my step of faith was met with great faithfulness.  thank you God.

one of the really fun things is that he told me i "had him at my handwriting".  he had been complaining that a previous-hire had really bad handwriting "in this business a 6 needs to look like a 6!".  i discreetly give him one of my business cards and hand wrote my new website address on the front (what a clever girl i am).  "oh my!" he exclaimed.  and that, my friends, is how it's done.

no, seriously.  praise God that there is some good reason for my lifetime of anality when it comes to my penmanship.  

so, truly nothing to be grumpy about.  actually, writing this seems to have cleared away a few cobwebs.  or maybe its the fact that the kids are falling asleep and it is now adult time in the anderson household.  cue the popcorn and Doc Martin!  i know, good thing we wait until the kids are down.  so feisty.

i wrote in my journal this morning that next week the gun goes off, and i start running again.  i hope i have set a good pace for myself - monday sabbath, tuesday and thursday work, wednesday and friday paint and teach an art class.  i must remember to keep hydrated, breath deeply and stretch out a few times a week with yoga.  i feel ready.  i am at the starting line and i'm smiling.

we'll see how long that lasts grumpy pants.

ps.  my husband just read this and said "you should have blogged earlier in the day if it helped you get over your grumpiness".  hmmm.  i guess he noticed.

oh my goodness oh my goodness

it's finally here!!!!
www.janetspaintedlife.com

and to celebrate, i'm reducing my prices!!!!  did you read that right?  yes you did.

no seriously, due to the fact that i live in a city that is literally bubbling over with artists, and drowning in art, i am reducing my prices.  this is not a joke.  and although i feel a little like i have a clearance sign on my back, i think it's a good step.

and since i am just using this post to shamelessly plug myself, why don't i let you know that i'm teaching a class as well?  it's an oil painting class, thursday nights or friday mornings, in february and the first half of march.  don't you want to paint with me in my kitchen?  i know you do!

soon and very soon i'll actually post something that's actually a post.  but in the meantime....did i mention my new website?