Massive thunderstorms pounded our metal farmhouse roof. The rattling sound was overwhelming, but this morning the sky is clearer than usual, the birds are happy after their bath, and it’s a stunning day filled with wildflowers and the scent of beauty in the air. There is a big debate in my mind whether spring is my favorite season. What I love about spring is the rejuvenation, the beauty that comes after the harsh cold. And I love spring fever, when we’re all eager to wear shorts, flip flops, and sunscreen.
I flash back to winters in Indiana that I thought would never end, times when we struggled with the ice, the cold, the dark gray days, dead car batteries, cars sliding off the road and getting stuck in snowdrifts. I could never get warm, and we couldn’t wait for spring to appear.
Experiencing Winter
Recently I’ve watched friends and family experience their own personal winter. Tough times of fighting disease, unexpected tragedy, family trials, addictions, financial or legal troubles, and losing cherished family members. I often feel guilty that I’m experiencing spring when they are suffering. But we all tend to cycle in and out of good and tough times. I too have gone through my own endless emotionally gray days, wishing for them to be over but so consumed I could not see the sun breaking through the clouds in the distance.
And though I never welcome those times, I anticipate there will be more of them. Starting two years ago last week, we experienced a season of winter, losing my dad, my mom, my cousin, my aunt, and my uncle. It was a brutal winter.
Please Don’t Die
When I was a child, I was so enamored with my dad that I constantly worried that he would die. I could not imagine life without him. I don’t know why I thought about it so much, but every stage of my life, I worried, and I told myself I could never get through it if he did die. It was a little boy’s obsession that continued into much of my adult life. It was totally unfounded and illogical, and I don’t understand why it had such power over me for so many years.
Yet when my dad did die, it was horrible, but not as horrible as I had imagined it would be. Maybe because he was ready, and he had lived a full and valuable life up to age 94. I had spent years worrying about a winter that was not as awful as I had anticipated.
Wasted Days and Wasted Nights
Perspective is a wonderful thing. Time and experience allow us to look back and see our mistakes, and our wins and losses. I regret having spent countless hours worried about things that never happened, preoccupied by what might happen. And though there is value in being prepared for worst-case scenarios, there is no value in worry whatsoever.
So I decided to remove worry from my life. I rarely worry even at times I probably should. My attitude is that I’ll deal with the bad things when they happen, not before. Time is too precious for worry. I’m trying to trust God more.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7
A Painful Lesson
After horrible winters that seemed endless, the sun always began shining again, and I look back on how I managed to get through the winter and came out stronger in the end. Looking at trials as important lessons also reduces worry, and I no longer cling to things. In fact, I crave change, because whenever I am stressed about change, things always end up better once the change is made.
Worry less. Stress less. Accept change. Know that trials and tough times all come with important lessons that make us better.
What would you change?
If I had to change anything, as I reminisce about the past, I’d let go more, control less, realize that it’s important to allow others to make mistakes, and my preventing them from making mistakes does not make them stronger people. And I’d look for more ways to build confidence in others and help them overcome their fears. We all need to know that others believe in us, even when we don’t believe in ourselves.
Growth does not happen without running the race, struggling to get to the finish line, and experiencing pain.
The Sun Always Rises
I don’t mean to make light of any terrible thing you’re experiencing at the moment, but know that there is sunshine on the other side of winter and that you’re strong enough to weather the biggest challenges. You need to know that someone believes in you, and that we’ve got your back. Sometimes we have to step on the carnage of pain and loss to get to a higher mountain. It may not be pretty, but the view is better at the top.
Growing Up the Hard Way
My dad once said to me, “Son, you never really grow up until you lose your father.” My dad was in his mid-60s when my grandfather passed, and my dad seemed pretty grown-up to me. But now I know he was right. There is a freedom that comes with knowing you have no one to rely upon but yourself and your Maker, and it sets a path for a whole new you.
Whatever you’re going through at this moment: You’ve got this.
Eric Rhoads
PS: This may sound silly, knowing that Sunday Coffee is widely distributed. But I’m truly there for you. I know you won’t reach out frivolously, but if you need help and I can offer it in some way, please ask. I know what it’s like to have no one to turn to.
PS2: I’ve grown to really love Carl Bretzke, a painter friend I interviewed for the Plein Air Podcast last week. I like him because he is real; there isn’t a phony or insincere bone in his body, not a mean thought in his mind. I wish I lived closer by; I’d wanna hang out all the time. I learn so much from his wisdom.
When we were talking, he brought up that he had attended nine of 10 Plein Air Conventions, and he was eager to attend the one coming up in May in Denver. I was surprised he had attended that many times, and I asked him why he keeps coming back. After all, he is a highly accomplished and successful artist.
His answer was unexpected, but just demonstrates how the best always want to get better. He said, “I come back primarily to see my friends, most of whom I met at the convention originally. But I attend every demonstration, because I always learn new things about painting from every one of them.” Having a curious mind serves him well. The best never rest; they always strive to learn more. Who knows, maybe we’ll see you there. (www.pleinairconvention,com)
And if pastel is your thing, Pastel Live is coming up this summer in August. This is the best we’ve ever done. www.pastellive.com.
Your Sunday Coffee is always a good read. Your dad was right when he said one doesn’t really grow up until their dad dies. This has panned out for quite a few of us. But when mom dies, it is a whole new wall to climb. In a tight family, suddenly, we kids are really on our own, even if we are 60 years old. However, there always is that light that powers us on. Thank you for your Sunday insights.
I’m looking for some advice. I have been away from painting for several months and can’t seem to get my “mojo” back. Any advice on getting it back?
Had my personal winter last year. My husband died last October. Now it feels I am in limbo waiting for I don’t know what. It’s miserable. I have occupied myself with painting in my studio apartment in Denver between working in healthcare. It seems to help but there are times when the feeling of alone-ness creeps up no matter what I do. And I read your choice of bible passage Philippians 4:6-7 and it resonated in me that I’m never alone.
Hi Eric
I am new to you and all of your works. I found you through my passion for watercolor, and now you have enriched me in another way. Thank you for today’s message. I needed to hear this so badly today as I struggle through a personal winter right now. I wish I could meet you at the Plein Air convention, but maybe next year.
Thank you Eric. I’m ever so grateful for your Sunday Coffees. They reach in depositing seeds of wisdom and insight right done to the marrow! And for some reason, they always seem to be right in line with a challenge or something I was going over in my head. I appreciate your time in writing and posting these tremendously. Many, many thanks.
Hi Eric,
Your column today was a big help to me. I struggle with anxiety problems, have been a worrier all my life, and now at 89 yrs., it seems worse.
I will remember your advise. I enjoy painting in watercolor, acrylic and pastel. When I am painting, the worries almost go away.
Another timely Sunday message. As I am sitting by my 96 year old Mother’s bedside in hospice care at the hospital reading your comforting words. My phone dings constantly from my Art friends sending prayers and love. I am grateful. I am letting God take the wheel. But I still want to plan my schedule. Yet I must remain patient. More lessons I do not want to learn. We will see if this journey has an ending by the time PACE starts. It is in God’s hands.
I’d love to attend one of the pastel convention at some point but I wonder if this there is a place for the real beginner artist?
Thank you for sharing, It was a balm to my soul to read your Sunday Coffee thoughts this afternoon;
I used to receive your Sunday Coffee and was always inspired, but when my spouse became seriously ill 5years ago, & I was care giving 24/7, sleep was at a premium, (often things that are uplifting & inspiring fall by the wayside for lack of time)…Well he’s resting now and I am beginning to sense that spark of creativity returning.
Life is indeed a series of Seasons, not always welcome, but often a chance to build character & strength for the next phase of the journey, if we choose. Thankfully we have GOD to lean on, that’s His promise…he’ll never leave us or forsake us, I have found that there is no hurdle to high if I just keep hanging onto His hand.
I’m glad to be in the loop again, looking forward to Sunday Coffee in my inbox.
Thanks for the inspiration,
Joan K
Eric, Your message today, I will print for my refrigerator, hang another in my studio, maybe another in my car. You found me at the lowest, darkest place I’ve been in a long time. Your humility and gentleness soothes my soul. I know Who is in control and has given us the awesome gift of creativity. Need to get beyond the sadness and trials wanting to suffocate the passion.
The worry and anxiety eat up too many days and weeks, and feed the dark ones. I often go back to sharing some
( watercolor) inspiration with someone more lost than me. Definitely gets me out of myself.
Thank you for caring for strangers as well as your students/followers❣️
I appreciate today’s column very much. Two quotes come to mind. The first I don’t know where I heard it or who said it, but it often hits home with me: “A man on his death bed tells his friends, ‘My life has been full of troubles … most of which never happened.'”
And the second I have on a paper under glass on my desk from St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina: “Pray, hope, and don’t worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayers. Prayer is the best weapon we have. It is the key to God’s heart.”
I try to remember when I’m frustrated, angry, or frightened about a situation and feel there is nothing I can do to remind myself there is something I can do … pray and trust God. He has a plan. Truly, worry is useless, it solves nothing, and anger and frustration eat away at one’s physical and mental health which again solves nothing.
Thanks for sharing your faith because it is encouraging.
Thanks, Eric – so often what you write seems to fit exactly what I or others are going through at the time, but as you know, this one hit particularly close. Thanks for the wise words – I am witnessing this as we speak. It really is an “overnight” growing up of sorts. See you in a couple weeks!!
Eric your words really speak to me
About going through hard times
And the losses we all endure in life
Thankyou
I am very touched by this column. I also worried too long and too hard much of my life. I worried about my mother dying, and because she was an alcoholic there was reason to worry. But it was not the job of a child to worry about their parent, and when she did die, it was as you said – not as horrible as I had imagined it and suffered it in advance. She died in her sixties, which makes me almost a decade older than her now. I wish I had been able to let go with love, but better late than never. I love your sharing this.
Thank you for your thoughtful essay. Peace and God bless you and your family.
Hi Eric, I first came across you and your team during Covid. Here in the UK I had recently become widowed when my wife died of dementia. I took years out to nurse her and then hit plein air painting with a passion. I had a couple of small ‘at home’ exhibitions which she could share before she became too ill. Now, I am painting as often as the weather permits and in the process of putting a book together showing sketches, painting, prose and some poetry. Your podcasts during Covid were anxiously awaited and I took so much encouragement from them. Your commentary and listening to the artists became inspirational, so thank you.
Just a note to let you know how much I have been enjoying getting to know you through your strong on line presence. Your Sunday Coffee today especially resonated with me as I am facing a number of personal challenges right now. At the same time, I have made an important life decision to become the best artist I can be in the time remaining to me on this earth. Your teaching and the inspiration of the many talented artists you present are invaluable to me right now
Your sincerity, expertise, kindness and generosity shine through in all you present. I don’t mean to sound so gushy, but consider this a short but sincere “fan letter.” Thank you Eric!
Thank you for these.