Old Man River

Yesterday was the ninth anniversary of the homegoing of my father and my aunt.

My father suffered from emphysema, and, after a disastrous mistake in the increase of dosage for his medication, he ended up at the hospital with no way to get better.

On the second day of his short stay my sister and I went to see him in his curtained ICU cubby. He was frail, and disoriented and, we discovered, very afraid. But he would never tell us that! He was from the old school. "Never show your fear!" this WW11 veteran had drummed into his head.


As he lay there, he looked at us and quoted, " I'm tired a' livin' and I'm feared a' dyin'". Hmmm.... that sure sounded familiar, but neither my sister nor I could place where we'd heard it. He was no help! His response was, "I'm not telling you! Go out and find out for yourself!"


When our visit was over and we had left the hospital and each other, I thought about what he had said. But also thought about what he had "said".



As soon as I got home I called my pastor and asked him to visit my father. I felt that his lyrical speech was his way of saying that he truly was afraid. And if he was afraid, then so was I. I took my pastor up to see him and then left them alone. I waited right outside the door to the ICU and prayed and peeped through the window and prayed some more. I never did ask either my father or my pastor just what it was that they talked about.



Two days later, with his family all around, he slipped into the Kingdom God. And I was so glad and so grateful that he had taken the chance to talk to my pastor and I had peace about his passing.



That was on a Thursday. The Saturday following I had to set up and take care of matters for a small concert that was being performed at my church's parish house. My good friend Bruce Davies, Scottish singer of traditional and original songs, was making an American tour.



The concert was a diversion for me, a kind of spate from the deep feelings that the passing of a parent can bring. And it was good to see Bruce! His concert ran about two hours and then he sang his final song...."Old Man River" And there in the middle of the song was the line, "I'm tired of livin' and I'm feared of dyin'"



And for me it was a beautiful confirmation that I had gotten it right. I had done what needed doing for my father and he was, and is, safely living eternally in God's gracious love.



How awesome is that?

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday

My godparents owned a sailboat that they kept in the Caribbean Sea.  They lived on the Glory Be each winter from January through April.

It was Holy Thursday.  They were anchored in a cove that was inhabited by several different yachts from countries all over the world.

The weather had turned rough as evening came on and the water rushed and beat against the sides of the sail boat causing it to rock and buck.  But they were safely anchored and having their sea legs under them they carried on as if the waters were completely calm.

Roland got the wine while Joan got the bread and as they sat in the gloaming they remembered the night on which Jesus was betrayed and they broke the bread and ate it and they drank the wine in memory of him.

Joan looked out at the other boats moored around them and wondered how many others were remembering that this was a holy night.  And then she knew what God was asking her and Roland to do.

“Rol, lets take communion to some of the other boats.  We can ask them if they’d like to share in the Lord’s supper.”  She poured the wine into a glass and covered it over with an unused paper cupcake wrapper.  She broke up some bread and put it in a bag and off they went in their dingy to the yacht that was closest to them.  It was an American yacht.  They pulled up along side and called up to the couple on board, asking they would like to share communion.  But the couple just laughed at them and told them no. 

Undaunted,  they then approached a sail boat that was flying a German flag.  Having spent time in Germany after WW11, both Roland and Joan knew German.  But it had been many years since they had spoken it with any kind of regularity.  They pulled beside the boat and called up in German.  A man put his head over and very quickly they realized that his English was much better than their German.  So they asked if they would like to share in the Lord’s supper on this special night.  And the man answered, “Yes!”  he called to his family; his wife and two sons.  When they appeared on deck they all knelt down and the father began to recite those beloved words, “ On the night when he was betrayed, Jesus took the bread....”  And in the beautiful rhythm of the the rocking boat and the gentle quality of the spoken German words, God revealed himself to Joan and Roland and also to this good family.  The father served his wife.  The wife served her oldest son.  The son served his younger brother and the youngest son served his father.  When they were done, and had handed the wine and bread back over the side of the boat to Joan and Roland, the father said, “We are all one body.”  And Roland and Joan knew that too.

They continued on their way from boat to boat and several others appreciated the kind act and thanked them for their willingness to share.

They had made a holy night more holy, with love and service and reaching out to those around them.

It would have been enough.

Up to my elbows in "How to Market" books

"I'm up to my elbows in "How to Market" books!  I've taken out several from the library and have been poring over them each night before I turn out the light.  I keep my notebook handy and jot down phrases and quotes that I think will help me to focus on the task of successfully promoting my artistic work.  I also take down lists of what I should do and what I should be doing.  I keep hoping that somehow, in some magical way,  it will all begin to line up in my brain and make some kind of sense.

What I read last night, in Craft Inc. is that I need to find my own personal style that stands out and sets me apart from the millions of other people selling their wares.  

I need to discover whether I'm serious or whimsical.  Am I country or urbane?  Would my works appeal more to younger people or more mature folks?

But then, in the very next sentence there seems to be a discrepancy.  I need to remember that the most important thing is to do what I love and not cater to the whims of fashion.  If I do what I love then I'll be happy and will draw folks to me with my positive energy.  

So, how's that been working for me so far?  Guess! 80)

Do I sound just a tad jaded?

Well, I still have Marketing for Dummies and Guerrilla Marketing to slog through.

I will figure out how to make wonderful things that make me happy and fulfilled and I will figure out the best way to present them to the public in a way that will draw people to my web sites so that they can ooh and aah over my wonderful wares and just have to buy them!

I wish there was a check list somewhere that I could use  that allow me to just follow the rules and get success.

Oh well.

 

I have this particular problem, can you relate?

I have never been a person who is fond of being on the computer. I'm not a surfer. I don't hang out on facebook. I have a bazillion sites bookmarked and I hardly ever get back to them. I joined Etsy.com last April and slowly slid into despondency.

I faithfully read the forum posts and posted questions. I frequently received sympathetic responses and kind words of encouragement. I set up this blog, specifically for the purposes of networking and drawing others to my shop. Every time I thought I had reached the end of what could be done, someone else came along with another suggestion.

But I just can't keep it all in my head. Even if write it down, I get so easily overwhelmed.

I read a blog post the other day that said that the reason so many web businesses fail is because of poor marketing skills. And I totally agree.

I've bought books on how to market myself.
I bookmarked and read articles written by professional business people on the pitfalls and how to avoid them.
I've taken the advice of friends and colleagues.
I've made a buisness plan and tried to stick to it.

I try to digest it all, in little bites, and I feel like a stuffed sausage. If I attempt to organize my data and thoughts later in the day, like afternoon or evening, I quickly become confused and then frozen. So I tell myself to wait until the morning, when I am fresh, and it makes no difference.

There are many, many people who successfully promote and market their wares. I know, with out a doubt. that I am capable of producing items that others will want to own. I just do not have what it takes to get it to those patrons.

Is there a service that anyone offers that can tailor a plan for someone like me? Is there a person that will help me make a plan that can work for me? Is there a person who I can talk to when I become overwhelmed? someone to hold my hand and walk me through it?

www.JudyAGoddard.Etsy.com
www.finishthis.etsy.com
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www.JudyGoddard.Homestead.com

Music!

Music!

I cannot go a day without hearing music, without singing!  I sing in the car.  I sing in the kitchen.  I sing in the  shower!  (What a cliche'!)

I used to be a professional folk singer.  I had brochures, and head shots, and a web site.  I even went to Nashville to record an album of original songs.   I traveled up and down the Eastern Seaboard to different festivals and really enjoyed it.  I made some awesome friends!

But then in the fall of 2002 I got sick.  I was diagnosed with Lyme disease in March of 03.

And I was sick for  four years.  

During my convalescence I learned some hard things about myself.  Like, maybe my walk with God wasn't really as good as I thought.  And this question presented itself;

Am I following the Lord... or am I asking the Lord to follow me?

The first day I thought about it, it was like a thunderbolt had struck!  All those years of me traveling in humanist circles, pretending that shining my light was enough....that I didn't need to present myself as particularly "Christian", that by carrying Christ with me people would automatically know that I was a Christian.

I was going blithely (and blindly) on my way, asking (or rather expecting) that Jesus was happy that I asked him to come along.  What pride!!

And the thing is, as I thought about it more and more, the Lord revealed to me that of all those thousands of people at all those festivals and house concerts and fundraisers, etc, the majority of the time, I was the only Christian I knew about.  There was no one else who I knew who shared my faith.

This was an awesome blow to me.  And it really humbled me.  How could I have blinded myself like that?

The next step was foregoing the music.  I did not perform, even after I was well.  I did not feel that that was what God wanted me to do.  I was to wait on him, in faith, that he would reveal to me the right time.   And last year I was asked to sing for my sister's art forum group.  After much prayer I said yes.  And really struggled with that decission.  But I made sure that the folks there knew about my faith.  I was no longer concerned about "fitting in".

Two weeks ago I was approached by a friend from Scotland who will be performing here in the spring.  He reiterated that he thought I should out there sharing my gift.  And for the first time, maybe in years, I felt the Lord say, "OK, go."

THE VERY NEXT DAY.... I received a phone call from the president of the American Irish Club asking if I would come in March and do a program of Irish songs for them.  I said yes right away!  And, on top of that, I got to witness to her about how the Lord healed me!

Last week I was asked, by a friend, to participate in a fund raiser for a dear friend with cancer.  And I said, "you bet!"

But I will no longer be content to just bring Jesus with me.  I'll be making pretty sure that I'm going with his permission and that I am presenting myself as his servant. 

How awesome is God???  

After Much Consideration...

I'm still clueless.

I am an artist. I want and need affirmation. Does that mean I need to sell my artwork in order to feel valued? No.

Creating art is about the overwhelming need to say something. As a fiber artist I need to have my hands around a pair of knitting needles. (Or a crochet hook.) I need to have challenges in design and color play that keep me moving forward. I guess that's why I feel that I've moved beyond crewel, cross stitch, needlepoint. Nothing challenges me like figuring out how to do something with yarn or string and needles or hooks. It has been posited that I am border line ADD. I don't wonder. I know. And the soothing swish of needles and the steady rhythm of moving the stitches from one side to the other keeps me centered and allows me to think more clearly and pay closer attention to what is being said by those around me.

But back to that pesky question about selling.

I am a consumer of goods. I have HUGE stashes of yarn. ( It really is a kind of obsession.) I spend hours most days clicking away. I have been a home maker and stay home mom for most of my life. It would feel so good to contribute in a way that makes me happy. (As opposed to working outside the home at a minimum wage job that eats up hours and gives me no sense of achievement.) I guess, for me, it boils down to me wanting to have a reason to stay home and yet make money. I want to feel useful. I want to help out.

Stay tuned for my next installment: "How I became a painter."

1+1=...........????

OK, I'm an artist! Sometimes I like to joke around and tell people that I'm a whole brained person. But the truth is, I'm so darned right brained that I can't even balance my check book!

I got a job at the mall, for the Christmas season, selling calendars from a kiosk in the center isle, near the food court. And the lovely woman who owns this franchise pays her employees under the table. So every week I would find a bank envelope with my pay inside.

I wasn't sure how her pay weeks ran, you know, Saturday to Friday, or Thursday to Wednesday, whatever. So I wasn't quite sure how figure if she was paying me the right amount each week. To add to the confusion, I thought she said that my first weeks pay would be included in my second weeks pay envelope. So when I got my first pay envelope and counted $106.00 I just figured it was correct. But the next weeks pay was only 80 something. So I started keeping my envelopes, with the amount counted inside, written on the outside. And when I knew the final date I would be working I counted it up and started

"calcilatin' how much I shoulda got"

By the time I was done I figured I was still owed over $500.00! So I wrote out my computation and made a copy for the boss and handed it to her. The next day, before I went to work I sat down with paper and pencil again and figured it out a different way. And I came up only missing a

"couple 'a hunerd"

So now I call her and tell her about my "boo boo" and she says she figures right on the mark and she owes me nothing.

Oh boy!

Once again, I pulled out the pad, pencil and calculater and tried it yet another way. And., as the numbers fell into place I started to see a pattern.

Hhhhmmmm.......

If I figured that I got my first weeks pay after my second week, but it wasn't included with the second weeks pay then it added up to the amount I should receive for my first week.

Right?

So I kept going and discovered that each weeks pay envelope held the amount I should have been paid the week prior!

Son of a Gun!!

So call number three informed my boss that I figured out my dumb mistake and everything was good.

Phew!

I should stick to my knitting needles and hire myself an accountant!

www.JudyAGoddard.Etsy.com
www.Measureformeasuregrowthcharts.com
www.JudyGoddard.Homestead.com