Light that Guides

When I was in highschool, I had an art teacher who took a group of students to Ogunquit, Maine each year on a sketching trip. I don't know if she knew what an impact those trips had on this shy, introspective budding artist. My mom always went along as a chaperone, and it was a very special time for both of us. It is funny that I don't remember a whole lot about it though I went twice. But I do remember that Nubble light was a lonely and beautiful light house set on the edge of a starkly beautiful rocky cliff. And I remember wending our way through tall golden reeds on a narrow path while the ocean crashed below, and then stopping frequently to sketch. How desperately I wish I could have those days back now with all I know about art, about family, about teachers who teach for all the right reasons.

Like so much of life the lessons we learn often come to fruition too late to properly thank the people who prodded us along the way. I loved my art teacher, but I am not sure I ever thanked her for how much she encouraged me. I think I just thought she was doing her job. I don't think I ever really thanked my mom for how special those trips were to me. Fortunately, she will read this blog and probably smile. But my art teacher was old even back then. I am pretty sure she is long departed from these mortal coils.

She was a lighthouse for me . She never directed the light onto herself though- it always turned outward in warning, in beckoning, and in guiding to safe shores.

I want to be a lighthouse.

Last week, one of my very talented older art students asked me to write a recommendation for a scholarship to the premier art school in the area. I had one day to do so. They dropped it off and I quickly composed the best recommendation I could and then they returned an hour later to pick it up. The competition for that scholarship was fierce.

I just found out she won. I got a letter, thanking me for my work with the student. Honestly, I haven't had this student very long, and she is the kind of talent that makes anyone that touches her life look good. But it was an unexpected joy to see that someone at least marginally in my realm of influence had succeeded against impossible odds to obtain such a coveted prize.

All my life, I had thought I wanted to be a famous artist. I wanted people thronging to buy my paintings for millions of dollars. Instead, I am laboring in relative obscurity (drat) helping others achieve the dream I had once hoped for myself.

But my goals are readjusting. I think I may find contentment staying on shore and lighting at least one small corner of darkness.

Matthew 5:15 (New International Version)

¹⁵Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.