A Winter's Gift 11x14 Oil 1999
The following writing is from my book, Art and Soul. It's for those of you that are battling the "winter storms" of the heart, soul or body. I'm sorry for your loss. I don't have solutions and some difficulties won't be resolved quickly or easily. I have learned, and have had to keep learning how to grieve and live with loss laced with grace.
Sorrow and grief can wrap themselves tightly around the core of my being and relentlessly
hold my heart captive. Long winters of darkness can cause me to lose hope that spring will ever return. It was during one of these times in my life that I was inspired to paint “A Winter’s Gift.”
When I look at this painting, I’m reminded of the bright spots or gifts that emerge from the dark winters of my life. I purposely painted the background black and the camellias white to represent the great contrast that exists in life. It's a reminder to focus on the bright light of goodness and beauty rather than the darkness of loss.
The camellias had surprised me by blooming early in February, when winter was hardly over. My garden looked bare and bleak with the exception of these white buds bursting with blooms contrasting the dark winter day. I picked some, to bring hope into the house, and as I painted these beauties I thought about my own personal “winter of loss.”
A prolonged double-ear infection and exposure to loud music had caused tinnitus in my ears. As the condition worsened, it became increasingly difficult to interpret the human voice, which I longed to hear clearly. The sounds of nature, such as the sweet song of birds chirping, fell silent. Without a hint of sympathy, my doctor told me there was nothing to be done for the ringing and that over time I would continue to lose more of my hearing.
As my tears started falling, he made his exit, taking with him the last bit of hope I had left. (Come on, people—tears are silent words that should be acknowledged!) Hearing aids only turned up the volume of distracting sounds and drowned the voices of the people I valued most. I felt alone, withdrawing from life more and more as the tinnitus increased and language I had lived with grew more and more foreign sounding. To make matters worse, this was a hidden loss. No sympathy cards arrived at my door. People couldn't remember to modify their speaking patterns. I could’t tolerate loud noises such as restaurants, parties, or church. Silence became what I craved, yet in silence the ringing was more pronounced and stole sleep and peace from me as I navigated migraines and exhaustion.
No surprise; I developed quite a grumpy spirit as well. As the ringing grew more relentless, my irritability ripened, giving me the realization I needed to find a way to grieve my loss without falling headlong into a deep hole of bitterness. Clearly, we all have or will experience loss, but I hadn’t anticipated that mine would arrive in my thirties when so much life was still to come. Resentment sprouted like weeds as I focused on what I lacked, instead of my gains. But, surprisingly, what I have discovered through these years of hearing decline is the surprising beauty of “winter” in my life. Sometimes I even find that spring arrives before winter’s end, and that my gains can outweigh my groans.
When this journey of tinnitus and hearing loss began, I first asked God to heal me. I politely prayed for God to take away the insane ringing but I was met with silence (actually, I was met by more ringing). I asked other people to pray for me in hopes that God would listen to them. When that didn’t work, I started begging, pleading with many tears for God to take away the agony. When He didn’t respond to my sadness, I met him with anger and pounding fists. I questioned Him about how He could call himself loving yet let me suffer. Lastly, I tried bargaining with Him, telling Him that if He healed me I’d certainly give Him the credit.
It was after this last request that God answered me through a verse in 2 Corinthians 12:9,“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” At the time it was a difficult pill to swallow, but God came through with His promise. He mysteriously planted new gifts of grace. His power within me brought good growth in so many ways. The greatest gift was the intimacy I felt toward God, as He tenderly cared for me through the dark days with an encouraging scripture verse or a kind word from a family member or friend. My tinnitus became a reminder of God’s constant love for me personally. My other senses were heightened and compensated for the one sense that struggled. Honestly, I don’t think I would have clung to God or pursued Him so desperately if it were not for this loss.
I wonder if I would have started painting or if I would have valued my sight as much as I do without my personal “winter.” Hearing impairment has heightened my awareness of the loss that others are living with (especially hidden agonies), and has given me a deep desire to listen to their stories. It’s a paradox; there’s nothing more I would rather live without than tinnitus and hearing loss, but at the same time I would not want to be without these valued companions that keep instructing and tutoring. These “gifts” don’t negate the losses, but they wrap a cozy blanket around my heart and soul as I wait for the promise of a greater, eternal spring to come.
“Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me,
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses,
so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses,
in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.
For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
2 Corinthians 12:8-10
"I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places,
so that you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel,
who summoned you by the name.”
Isaiah 45:3
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