I accept with gratitude
I have been following a blog of a
folk artist and her home improvement specialist husband for a few years. These
can-do folks also have two glorious cats and a lovely old dog. The pictorial tales
of how and what they do to make their already near perfect home become
pristinely perfect, is a spot of bright light in what otherwise could be a drab
world.
Lorraine doesn’t call herself a folk
artist, but I could call her nothing else. Her painted-rocks hobby and
sometimes business, which she named I’VE GOT ROCKS IN MY HEAD, bespeaks of
golden hands and a big heart.
One day, out of the blue, I got a
text from Lorraine asking for my home address. We only know each other from the
blogosphere and she wanted to send me a rock.
Why? And why me? I certainly had done
nothing to earn it.
The gesture made me happy. Perhaps especially
because it was unearned.
A few days later, this brilliant hand
painted treasure joined my rock collection, made of much more humble painted
stones left by the side of the road over the last three years.
During the pandemic, when we were
admonished to stay inside and go out only if we had a dog to walk, (I don’t) folks
around my neighborhood took to placing painted stones with signs like “take one”
for passersby. These were testaments of compassion for the existence forced on
us and the wish to connect even if not in person. Sometimes one of the stones
touched me in some way and I’d bring it home. But for the most part, I left
them there for another who had greater need for a pick-me up.
Lorraine’s gift now sits as a glowing
tiara over the memories of those lonely walks. They make me feel remembered,
touched, and that in the end— connectedness is the real gift.
You can see more of Lorraine’s work
(as well as other glimpse into her life) here:
