Art in the Park

Artwork by Sarah

Our first week in school was an adventure. The quiet of the Chicago coffee shop I’m writing in is soothing after such craziness. Yet, despite the intensity, I will be happy to return to homeschool on Tuesday. I’m still learning the teaching ropes, the cyber components, and how to juggle potty training my 3 year old with fourth grade math and second grade wiggles. Despite the learning curve, we managed to pack 5 days work into 4 so we could go on a field trip.
When the Lord and I were “discussing” homeschooling the girls this year, I remember complaining and saying to Him, “You DO realize that homeschool requires someone to be structured. You KNOW I’m not structured. I don’t think I’m going to be very good at this.” And as the Lord has so often enjoyed, He gave me an answer I didn’t quite know how to receive. He said, “What if doing school isn’t the most important thing for them this year?”
Nice. How am I supposed to explain THAT to the State of PA?
I understand that to mean we’ll do the bookwork we have to, but we’ll fill in the gaps with some great experiences. Like the one we had Friday. Long’s Park in Lancaster has a great Arts Festival once a year. Emily has an interest in art and I am making an effort to expose her to it as much as I can. This particular fair is not just “arts and crafts” if you know what I mean. It’s pretty high end. Many of the exhibitors come from out of state and their wares sell for 100’s and 1,000’s, not 10’s and 20’s. It’s the kind of place you don’t usually take little kids to…especially without a stroller. But we did.
The girls were actually really great, but after about 100 “please don’t touches” Mommy thought it best to take them to the Kid’s Craft Tent where they glittered, sequined, and feathered their own mask. We had lunch at the outdoor bistro, and then Aunt Jean was so kind as to get them ice cream and take them to the playground so I could browse a bit.
I made my way to the end of the strip and as I turned back, an exhibition of paintings caught my eye. I’m always drawn to art that depicts light falling on people. A particular piece drew me in. It was a painting of a girl looking at a painting in a museum and there was a Degas ballerina sculpture behind her. It was phenomenal and I was carried back to my visit to the Philadelphia Museum of Art a few months ago.
I slowly moved on through the rest of the exhibition when a small painting at the bottom of the opposite wall froze me still. A girl with brown hair in a ponytail was sitting on a long wooden bench surrounded by paintings. Her head was down and she was writing. The tears surprised my eyes and I choked out in a whisper, “That’s me.” Then I felt a bit embarrassed. The artist was now standing next to me and I felt very self-conscious, especially since I was having a very difficult time finding my composure. He was a very sweet and gentle man. I struggled to say, “I love your work. It’s not often that you look at a painting and you see yourself in it. It moves me to tears.” I apologized for being so emotional. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, dismissing my apology. We talked at length about his art, and my experience at the museum in Philly. I took Jon Smith’s card and tore myself away, not daring to ask the price.
I turned myself toward God inwardly as I walked back. “Lord, I know he didn’t paint me. But it feels like You painted me through him. Like You looked at me in that moment, and You saw me, and You saw what I was thinking, and feeling, and writing, and You thought it was beautiful enough to paint. As if You wanted to remember me in that moment. That painting makes me feel like I’m memorable to You.
I tried to compose myself as I kept walking. I was conscious of the time and felt I should be making my way back to Jean and the girls but another exhibition caught my eye. Enormous paintings of a young girl with light on her face drew me in. She was beautiful. I walked into the booth and started to read an article about the artist. Quickly I understood that Mary Jane was a Christian. I read enough to know I needed to go get my girls.
Jean took one look at me and said, “What is it?” So I sighed and told her about the girl in the museum and asked if she and the girls would revisit the two exhibitions with me.
We went over to Mary Jane’s booth. I wanted to take Emily in by herself, so the two of us made our way over to the article and I read it to her. “Em, God told her that she was to become a painter and that she was to paint people. She was to paint their hearts. He told her that if she would paint them, He would tell her who she was to paint. This woman who paints has a disability, her hands shake, and even so she still paints these beautiful pictures.”
Mary Jane had made her way over to us, and I noticed was fiddling with a video camera pointed toward us. Grace had joined me, and I turned to Mary Jane and said, “I wanted my girls to meet you.” I told her a bit about how God has been directing their paths and speaking to them about His call on their lives. “When I read the article, I knew that I they needed to hear about God guiding you with your gift.” She looked at Grace and said, “How old are you?” “Nine,” Grace responded. “When I was eight, I KNEW,” said Mary Jane. And then she spoke to the girls. “Don’t ever let anyone talk you out of what you want to do.” “There is no one like you in this whole world, no one who can do what you can do.” “God has made you very special.” Mary Jane called us over to a painting called Gently Letting Go. She read us something she had written about it, and then handed me a tissue because I needed it. I could almost taste the presence of the Holy Spirit. We talked a bit longer and I found out she is also the author of a book. She explained that the video camera is because there are people who want to make a documentary of her. “If God can use it,” I nodded to her. Mary Jane sent us off with some postcards of her paintings.
We made our way down toward the end of the fair and looked at (and tried very hard not to touch) the other exhibitions. The girls stopped to hear an artist who made his own musical instruments and suddenly I found that Mary Jane was beside me again. “I have a short break,” she said. Then in her no nonsense way she said, “What is God leading you to do?” I laughed and said, “Well, it’s been an interesting few years.” I wondered if I should tell her about the Oasis, about my burden to minister to those who have been rescued from human trafficking, but it all seemed too complicated to talk about in a short period of time. So I chose to talk instead about the rest of my calling. “I wanted to teach, but God told me to quit when I was in Seminary, He had a different kind of school for me.” She nodded and smiled knowingly. “I’ve had a lot of things spoken about my future. Right now I’m writing and I hope that I will have a teaching ministry someday.” She looked at me and said, “To whom?” I smiled inside as I said, “Well, right now it’s to my children.” As the words left my mouth I realized that I was satisfied in that. Deeply satisfied.
I rounded up the girls and we went to visit Jon Smith. He looked at the girls and said, “You know, I always hate it when people tell me I can’t touch things. When you’re an artist you have to touch in order to paint. So you can touch my paintings if you’d like. Emily and Sarah were in heaven, joyfully going around touching every painting they could reach under my nervous watch. Grace was busy looking at his paintings of dancers in the back. Then she made her way to the front and saw my painting. “Hey, Mom, look! That’s you!” she said. I know, Grace. I know. “How much is the painting of the girl sitting on the bench?” I finally asked. “Twelve hundred and fifty,” he said. I sighed. Maybe if it was six hundred. But you know what, it was worth the asking price. Maybe we’ll save up money for it after we come back from Brazil. Maybe it won’t sell by then. That is in God’s hands. The memory of the experience is in me.
As we walked back, the girls stopped again to talk to the man who made the instruments. He let them play a song with his horse hair bow, played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for Sarah, and then she asked, “Do you know Jesus Loves Me?” He smiled and took his bow and the strings sang to all the fair, “Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me, Yes, Jesus loves me, Yes, Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so.
So does Jon Smith
So does Mary Jane Q. Cross.
It’s gonna be a good year.