I painted today for the first time in a long time. I don’t consider myself an artist by any means, but I really enjoy it. I find painting — and watercolor in particular — to be very therapeutic the way the water moves the color across the page. It’s a beautiful and hypnotizing dance, and I can’t resist it.
Something has been bugging me today, and I’ve tried very hard to identify it to no avail. It’s been a lovely day, one filled with good times with my boys that will make for cherished memories. I’m content. I’m fulfilled. I’m ever so grateful, but I’m having a hard time smiling. Today there is a fog.
So, I turned to paint to cheer myself up and release whatever had its chokehold on me. It’s spring, so what is more apropos than painting tulips … or cheerier than red and pink ones? But my hand kept reaching for the black, and even then was not satisfied. It wasn’t until I had completely abandoned the piece and blurred it with water that it felt finished. As I stood back and looked at it—joyful and vibrant tulips hidden beneath a fog—I knew that it was perfect. It was timely. It was exactly as I felt.
We are all living the best lives we can under the current circumstances, but no matter how hard we persevere—and persevere, we must—we cannot lift the fog. The sickness, the sadness, the anxiety … it’s with us through it all. We put on brave faces for our children, and we work tirelessly to make these days meaningful. We protect them from the news, from the fear, from the death, and we smile and play while the fog does its best to drown us.
This is Easter weekend, and as a Christian I take comfort in my Savior. He is my light through the haze and my courage through this pandemic. If you also find yourself with lips that are smiling but a heart that is hurting, please know that you are not alone in your feelings. We will look upon the tulips again, and the fog will be lifted. Until then … Happy Easter, my friends.