Is the Moon the Sun?

On the way home from dropping off Amelia today, Eva asked me a question that got me thinking. She asked, "Mommy, is the sun the moon, or is the moon the sun?"

First I told her that she was silly. That she was asking the same question in two different ways. "The moon is not the sun and the sun is not the moon, silly Eva. But you can only see the moon because of the sun. The sun shines so brightly onto the moon that when there's a full moon it can light up the sky."

I was rambling, but somewhere in that speech to my four-year-old the symbolism hit me and a song came into my mind.

I Am like a Star
I am like a star shining brightly, smiling for the whole world to see. I can do and say happy things each day, for I know Heav’nly Father loves me.

I thought to myself, while I have a light to share with others, it comes from Christ, the Son of God. Without Him, I would not shine. A star has its own light but the moon appears brighter than the stars because of the sun's light. Thus, the song should be rewritten to this:

I am Like a Moon
I am like a moon shining brightly, smiling for the Savior's with me. I can strive to be as kind as Christ shows me, for I know Heav’nly Father loves me.

The sun's light is always shining on the moon but sometimes the moon doesn't show it's full potential. It goes through phases. From full to gibbous to crescent to new. If it were to stop going through phases it would be because the world had ended. We, too, will continue to go through phases of spiritual strength and phases of trial and darkness. Sometimes we have more light to give. And sometimes we can barely manage a smile. But Even when we can't see the Light of Christ, know it's there as sure as the sun.

So, Eva, the sun is not the moon, but maybe the moon is the sun.

Art and the Heart

I've been making a lot of art lately. Good Art. It's focused. It's purposeful. It communicates meaning. It's beautiful in its own sad little way. I discovered that there is a correlation in my life between heartache and how prolific I am in making art.

When I was working on my final BFA show my two year relationship ended. Not only was our romantic relationship over, but our friendship as well. We didn't even see each other until he came to the opening of my BFA show a few months later. I didn't realize how much I used my art to work through the coping stages after that breakup until I saw him standing in front of my artist statement, reading it carefully.

Look at that little girl... She thought she'd been through a lot. Ooh, girl, buckle up! Art is such hard work ("I'm an art major." "Oh, that's fun." "Go die") Even recognizing her youth and naïveté, I look at her and can honor her for being strong and never giving up. I miss that girl sometimes (yes, that girl is me).

My show was strong and full of good Art. I was told it was at a level beyond that of a Bachelor student. It delved into the realm of talking about anxiety, before people were really talking about anxiety!

When I graduated, I got a job teaching art. It filled my creative need enough at the time that I gradually made less and less art. I was also falling in love with the man whom I would eventually marry. Four years and two kids later I found myself married to an ex-mormon who stopped being the man who won my heart. At this point he had broken my heart with his words multiple times. Each time chipping away at the vision I had created for what I wanted my life to be like.

The first words that hurt me were when he told me he didn't have s testimony any more. With these he took the surety of having an eternal companion. Having a home where together we could teach our children the gospel. Having access to priesthood power. 

Later he told me he didn't want anymore children and threatened to get snipped if I pushed it. These words murdered what I thought were the last of my hopes and dreams. Staying with him felt nearly pointless. My anger toward him grew and my patience with him dwindled. 

The last words I let him hurt me with were when he told me he never loved me. I can see that his perspective was warped and that he was using tactics to push me away. Rationally, I could recognize what was reality and what was perverted with the darkness he brought into our home. I know he had loved me, but when he said those words, it shattered me. I mean, it ground the pieces of my heart into dust. I felt like my whole body was going to crumble.

I told him, "I didn't know there was any of my heart left to break." The pain from these words hurt just as badly as from any of the other words he had hit me with. There was no reprieve. There was no solace. All I could do was have him hold me. So he did. He held me and kept me from ripping apart from the inside out. I had lost myself. I was drowning in turmoil and gasping for air that had no respite. I needed to feel like me again. So I went back to making Art.

It was good Art. Different than I had ever done before. Or even liked before. I was painting desert landscapes. Looking back I can see why my paintings focused on the emptiness I felt they needed. I remember working on them and thinking, yeah, this desolate area is perfect and yeah the sky needs to be realistically dull, tapering from blue to yellow, and it should not be a beautiful sunset with perfect billowing clouds. I needed to focus on the plain, ordinary, ugly, and empty. At the time I thought it was because I was painting what was real, but looking back I can see that it was because I felt ugly, empty, and dull.

I titled one painting from that period of my life "Weathered" and it perfectly depicted how difficult it was for me to let others in. But it also beautifully illustrates the reality that what you focus on becomes all you can see. This painting is only a tiny part of the cactus, but I painted it on a very large scale. I magnified the ugly and rough parts. It's those details that create the more interesting story. It's the imperfections that create a more dynamic painting overall. This painting was, in its own right, a self portrait. These paintings and the Scottsdale Art Walk got me through my divorce.

Weathered

 I have since found a great deal of happiness, friendship, and enjoyment from being single. I have opened my heart again, though not intentionally. And I have yet again been hurt, dang it. This time, the pattern was no different. I fell back on Art. There was a week of my life that I had a hard time getting out of bed, culminating in an emotional breakdown where I could no longer hold in the tears. The hurt bubbled up my throat and burst out of me like it was late for an urgent meeting. I thought to myself, I need to feel like me again, so in that moment of agony, I took a few selfies and proceeded to therapeutically draw the dramatic moment.

I felt better. But this was just the beginning of a new art series that focuses on emotion, vulnerability, and mental health issues. Things are very different for me socially. I was holding back before and not throwing myself into the work the Lord had asked me to do. He sent me strong, clear, undeniable direction, instructing me to write my story down and share it. While I've been writing it, I hesitated sharing it. I've been sharing it through my art as well. It's hard to write about this stuff. To show people the ugly parts of my story. But the truth is, that's the relatable part. That's the part that's going to help people. That's what makes my story interesting. And I am more productive when I'm alone, and I probably make better Art when I'm a little sad.

At institute this week, Brother Tom Christofferson shared a story from his mission about when Elder Gordon B. Hinckley visited. He made the point that the missionaries should focus more on God's work to be done than on the sights to be seen. Implying the question, "Are you here as a tourist? Or are you here as a missionary?"

It hit me like this: Are you here on earth as a tourist? Or are you here as a missionary? The Lord has a plan for me. It is different from the one I had for myself. It includes a divorce. It includes living in Arizona. It includes being a single mom. It includes a lot of vulnerability. It does not include (right now) an eternal marriage or an easy, straightforward path. The Lord's plan is for me to bring others to Christ. To help and lift and love and spread hope and happiness. That is the work I want to do.

God has a plan for you, too. It goes beyond your plan for yourself. Ask Him what it is.

Vulnerable and Emotional Portrait Series

I'm a portrait artist bringing attention to emotional health, vulnerability, and the willingness to let others into our lives. I'm a single mother of two. Instead of letting my divorce harden me or close me off, I am embracing the raw and real feelings that come from entering this new phase of my life. My portraits are created with pencil, charcoal, watercolor, and found objects, respectively. They are meant to push you out of your comfort zone and into a realm of vulnerability.

Gaslighting

These portraits powerfully provoke emotions that we can each identify with, ranging from sorrow and anger, to bravery and joy. There is a stigma around anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues. This body of work challenges that by bringing attention to emotional health, vulnerability, and the willingness to let others into our lives. The viewer is confronted with feelings which we each go through but rarely shed light on.

Found Objects

In todays society, it seems that feelings are frowned upon; but without them we'd all be sociopaths. We try to present ourselves as strong, independent, and perfectly content at all times. This is an outer layer, a shell, that we hide behind. It is a headshot, but a headshot is meant to be the best first presentation of what we look like, it doesn't tell the whole story. It doesn't show who we really are. Everybody has a story. There's more to each person than what meets the eye.

Watercolor

It's vulnerable to let people in, to see the real you. What you struggle with. What hurts you. What you fear. What you hope for. What excites you. What you truly feel.

Frustrated

I have an open space in my heart and in my life. Instead of thinking about it as empty, I'm thinking of it as open: open to opportunity, open to love, open to God.

Broken but Hopeful

I got a lot of feedback on my last blog post. People are saying that it was really sad. I guess it was sad but that wasn't my intention. I shared things that I've been through because I feel like God has directed me to do so. I hate every little bit of sharing this much about myself and my life. It makes me cringe. I feel like the skin is actually peeling away from my body, exposing me to the core. It's unbelievably vulnerable and it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

I told Becky that I didn't feel so much "sad" about all of this stuff, just more like I'm showing everyone how broken I am -- that's not attractive. Hey everyone, look at all the hard things that I've been through and how they've affected me. Go ahead and run now, it's cool. She pointed out that there's still something wrong with my viewpoint because I perceive myself as being "broken" and I am not. She says the fact that I have overcome all of these challenges and trials proves that I am strong. That I'm a survivor. She lifted me by showing me that through being vulnerable and honest I can connect to more people on a deeper level. I have seen that this is true through writing and sharing my story. 

Becky asked me what I like about Henry Ammar. He's honest and open, and mostly, he relies on the Lord and is sure of His guiding hand. I also thought of what I like about Kristina Kuzmic. She lays out the ugly and makes it beautiful. She brings light into a dark place. That's ultimately what I want to do. 

I'm sharing my story because people don't know what I've been through. I don't think you would expect me to have gone through so many hard things in my life. In college one of my first roommates was a sweet girl but we weren't close. She had depression and she was on medication for it. She told me once that I couldn't understand how hard life is because I had never gone through anything hard. She didn't know me. She didn't know what I'd already gone through. She didn't know how hard my life had already been, even as a sophomore in college.

I decided to be happy. That's a choice I get to make everyday. I've always been more reserved and quiet (until you get to know me). But I think that I am a fairly easygoing and upbeat person. I may have inherited a short temper, but over the years I've learned to extend my calm and extinguish the fuse. As I've talked with my sisters about the generations of problems that may or may not have been passed down, we have accepted the call to break the pattern. It might be hard, but God won't give us a challenge that we can't overcome with His help. I know I am good with my kids and I was good with my husband when I was married.

I know I've shared a lot of the hard times I had with my ex-husband, but there were a lot of good times mixed in there, too. Especially the first few years. We enjoyed adventures, hikes, the temple, growing our family, and each others company. We supported each other in our goals and ambitions. We had fun together, we comforted one another and we made each other laugh. We both had dads who worked out of town and that was something neither of us wanted. We just wanted to spend as much time together as possible. We were so happy and made the other a priority.

I was really careful with who I chose to marry. I did not want someone who was physically aggressive and I did not want someone who didn't have a testimony. I found somebody who was a scriptorian, he knew the gospel, and we could have gospel discussions easily. That excited me and made me really happy. I grew up with a dad who was inactive for a long time. I wanted to make sure that I married someone who would be a good father to my children and would be able to give them priesthood blessings when they needed them. I wanted someone who could be a partner with me in teaching our children the gospel, especially the scriptures, since I've never been able to recall or quote the exact verse. I was satisfied with the man I found. He seemed to love the Lord as I did.

This should illustrate why it is so scary for me to think about moving forward with someone else. Why it is so hard to imagine trusting someone else. Or even, trusting myself with such a decision. Because even the best person that I can find, even the sweetest guy that I've met, even someone who seems like they have a real testimony, or someone who takes me to the temple weekly could change. There's no guarantee.

Austin and I actually had good communication throughout our marriage except when he would keep things from me or lie to me. Toward the very end of our marriage he told me there were still things he kept from me. I knew. How could I not know things like the fact that he was getting coffee everyday, when he came home smelling like it. I would even get the receipts emailed to me somehow. He would also tell me about when he met with the bishop and what they had to say. Austin was asked to return for more conversations while I never was invited to the visit with the bishop.

When I opened up to the bishop about all of this in an unrelated interview, he was surprised that I knew so much about what Austin had read and the direction he chose to take his life. The bishop shared an experience with me, one time while he was sitting on the stand in Sacrament meeting, he looked over at me, struggling with my kids (this was shortly after Austin stopped coming to church with me), and thought he should go help me. Let me say this: he should have. I felt so invisible and overlooked. I had no voice and no friends. I was so alone.

Yes, his place is on the stand. But it's so he can preside over the congregation. Part of that is to look over and after those who need help. He should have set the example and come to my aid. Yes, people would have noticed. So what. GOOD! They can see their leader serving in a simple, yet significant way.

I was surprised that he never reached out to me. It seemed to me that if he knew I had been living with an atheist he should have called me or touched base to see how I was doing and offer to give me a blessing or something! Especially since it would have been so easy for me to give in and let go. To leave the church, or at the very least just stop coming.

I also had in laws in the ward that could have helped me. And if we had been the friends I had hoped for when we moved there, they would have. I don't mention these stories to shame those people. I do it so that others will act, instead of sitting back doing nothing. Never suppress a generous thought. Eventually (sooner rather than later), my kids learned to sit reverently and we mastered a rhythm. First we would just sit quietly, participating fully in the meeting. Once the sacrament was done I would let them have their sketchbooks, dolly, or other quiet activity for the rest of the meeting.

I remember taking my kids to an Easter egg hunt at a ward members house. A bunch of moms with young kids were there. I lurked under the radar for most of the time. At one point, a sister asked me, not how I was, but how it was having my husband working from home. She didn't know he quit his steady, high paying job at a respectable law firm to sit at home in his underwear, alone in the back room, looking at garbage and playing free-cell, only occasionally doing actual work. She didn't know anything about the hell I was going through. Only one of the other moms had taken time to really know what I was going through. And when she heard the question she looked at me with such caring grace in her eyes that I knew she was a true friend. I knew she wanted to help somehow, but I also knew the rest of them wouldn't waste too much time talking to or about me. I answered honestly. I told them it was okay, but I wished he would get out of the house once in a while and not interfere with my job as a stay at home mom. I was right. They moved on quickly, redirecting the attention and questions to someone else.

I'm so much happier now. Being single has been good. I liked living with Becky before I got married, having all kinds of activities at my finger tips. This is the same now, though much is different, like I have kids now. I especially like having the people in my community of the mid-singles be like me. We've all been through hard things. Many of us have been divorced. I have a voice again. I feel less alone now. Even while I'm alone in my tiny house.

So yes, I have been broken. But God loves broken things, doesn't He?



My focus is a constant on the Lord and His will for me and my family, and how I can bless others. I understand the law of consecration a little better after going through what I've gone through. The point of this life is to come unto Him, and bring as many as we can with us. To lift and brighten. I think I did my part before, when I was naive of the deceptions of satan -- before my husband left the church. I was kind and service oriented. I had ambition in my career and learned at BYU to aim for the "capitol A" Art world. To be a serious artist. But I care nothing about that now. I want my art and writing to bring others to Christ. To be a strength for weary and tired hands. I hope to be an ally to those who keep on trying, and a guidepost pointing the right direction.

As you know, I love Calee Reed. Her music is truly a gift from God. I'm grateful she has gone through what she has because it pushed her to create some seriously real, spiritually powerful, and inspiring music. I learn from the words in her songs when I listen to them. When I got her Believer CD for Christmas my girls and I gravitated most to her song, Broken and Beautiful. She touched the brokenness of our hearts that were caused in part by our little families recent divorce.

As I reflect on the repercussions of all I've been through, I do feel broken. I feel broken in every way. Both good and bad. But somehow, I still feel hope. The first thing Austin told me after he told me he didn't have a testimony any more was to not hope. I have never given up hope. I hope that whoever I do choose to be my eternal companion will not just be okay with my baggage, but be willing and able to help me carry it, or better yet, to help me put it down all together. I hope to find someone I can truly trust. I hope to find a better relationship than I've had before. I hope to become more like my Savior and my Heavenly Father. I hope to teach my kids well, how to follow Him, always. I hope to be the best I can be, so that the Lord will be proud of me.

Through the hard things that break us down we can be made whole. When we're put back together it is in a more godly order.