My mother drew a beautiful likeness of Jesus with his crown of thorns in charcoal when I was ten years old. I remember telling her how beautiful and GOOD her drawing was. Later that day, I found it crumpled up and in the trash. I suppose a ten year old’s complement didn’t mean much to her, and plus, she probably thought that because I was her daughter, I would always say something nice about what she created. Her own thoughts were much different than mine.


    I remember that when seeing Mel Gibson’s, “Crucifixion” in the movie theater that Jesus had made a chair out of wood. His mother criticized Him in the movie and told him the chair wasn’t good and it would never catch on. I remember thinking about how that must have made Him feel. Making a piece of furniture isn’t easy at all.

      I became an art advocate in our area because I realize that when artist creates, the piece comes from their soul and it’s something personal that has been made by hand. To put your own work out there, and have it on display, risking the mockery of others must be very scary and feel very vulnerable. I have tried to help hundreds of people in this area hang their work publicly, and they seem to be very appreciate. It’s my way of giving back to the community. It’s my way of telling each artist that they are valued and so it their beautiful piece of art.

   I believe that an artist is a lot like God. God created his only son. Then, he gave that creation to our world to be crucified. The ultimate sacrifice. As an artist and a mother, I can’t fathom that type of sacrifice. The love He has for all of us is not comprehensible. I once heard that if we used all the trees of the forest as pens, and all the lakes on our planet as ink, we could not write about how much God loved us. That puts it into it’s rightful perspective.

   On Friday we went to the Good Friday service at the Abbey of Saint Walburga. Each Good Friday I’m reminded of our Lord’s sacrifice to all of us. I can never walk away dry-eyed from kissing the cross. I rarely see anyone else crying and I always wonder about that.

      Easter is always a favorite time of year. Easter feels new. Jesus rose and was made new, for us. Each work of art is a new creation, each bud a new leaf, and each day an opportunity to show the people we know and may meet how much we love them.



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