Painting And Patience
About six months ago, when I was attending a birthday party for my grandson, I started talking to a young woman who is quite an accomplished artist. I was asking her questions about her work when my son Michael walked up, put his arm around my shoulder, and said, “My mom does watercolors.”
I gasped, and then blurted out, “I’ve had ONE class.”
Taking a watercolor class was something I had wanted to do for years; and after I retired, I decided it was time.
I am not being coy when I say it was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. While I was learning the proper way to hold a paintbrush — I am not exaggerating — my classmates were painting portraits of their family members and their dogs, and doing intricate studies of flowers and bunnies, and their family homes. One of my fellow artists was even painting a series of deep sea creatures using vivid marine colors.
I stumbled through my first project, which was a turtle; I gave it absolutely no dimension or shadowing because I didn’t know how. Can you say “flat shelled turtle?” Then there was the Christmas tree disaster, which I’d rather not talk about.
My teacher had high hopes for me though, and she tried to show me what I thought were pretty advanced painting techniques. I went into a state of “I can’t possibly do that.”
As that fog lifted, I realized that I needed to start with the very basics. “Think of me as a nursery school student,” I told her, suggesting that I needed to learn how to take a nap on a very small rug and walk in a line to the drinking fountain – artistically speaking, of course.
I decided that I needed to find a project that would be very, very simple. I chose a snowman with a scarf, and decided that the technique that I was going to learn was layering coats of paint. There were mornings — as my classmates dove into their dazzling art projects — when I spent my time adding one thin layer of paint on top of another. And the next week I did it again.
One day, I mentioned my plodding progress to my daughter Katie, and she said, “I don’t have the patience for that, mom.” I told her that I didn’t either when I was in my 30s.
As Christians, we pray to be filled with the Fruit of the Sprit, which includes the virtues of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. I have learned over the years that I cannot have patience unless I first have hope; hope in the future, hope that things will change, hope that things will get better.
Today, I am filled with the hope that if I take more watercolor classes, my skills will improve.
As a Catholic, I have the hope that the Eucharist will transform me, thanks to the patience of our Lord.
