I Love You to the Moon and Back

Posted on February 12, 2014 by Sue Shanahan

My love will always light your path

And guide you to the moon and back.

It greets you at the break of day

And whispers from the milky way.

– Sue Shanahan, Love You to the Moon & Back (2014)

The first time I heard the phrase, “I love you to the moon and back” was in the 1990’s while watching the Rosie O’Donnell Show. Rosie’s son, Parker, had exclaimed it to her when she was tucking him in bed the night before. She thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever heard and had to share it with the world. I don’t know if this term of endearment originated with her son, but as an artist, I couldn’t get the imagery of it out of my mind.

“I love you to the moon and back.” Hmmm, what would that look like? Would the moon be crescent shaped or full? And how does one get to the moon and back? On an airplane? A rocket ship? Or does one simply sprout wings and fly? And who would go to all of that trouble to declare their love anyway?

Soon the answers began to materialize in my head. It’s wonderful to have an imagination. Right off the bat, I knew a boy should be included in the illustration because I’d first heard the expression from Parker O’Donnell. I adored my great-nephew Matt and thought he’d be the perfect subject to base my art on. As the image in my mind’s eye came into focus, I began to make out a little boy riding on a missile to a wise, retro Man in the Moon. Voila! I couldn’t wait to begin.

When Matt’s mom brought him over for me to photograph, I thought I was prepared. I had my son Brian ready to stand in for the missile by getting down on all fours. His mom would set a pajama clad Matt on his back, and I would snap away. I don’t know what I was thinking. How could I have forgotten what a wild child my great-nephew was? I literally only had time to take one shot of Matt before he insisted (and I do mean insisted) on climbing off of Brian’s back. He was done. But that one shot was all I needed. It turned out to be the perfect photo reference to create the lyrical feel I was looking for in my drawing. The creative process is mystical. It has a mind of its own. When I don’t push but instead allow it to come into being, a thing of wonder always emerges.

Creativity is hard to define but its presence is always felt. It’s no accident that it is a derivative of the word Creator. It accesses an energy field that is part of the Divine. What other force could make something out of nothing?

And it’s the same way with love. Although it’s invisible, its effects are always seen. Love takes the puzzle pieces strewn across the floor and puts them together to make something beautiful and whole. Its spark lights our paths. It fills in the holes and gaps. And it’s what inspires a child to say the words a mother will hold dear all the days of her life.

The glimpse of Matt I caught on film.

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Hope in the New Year

Posted on December 31, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

The pears in the drawing symbolize hope. The mocking bird is not only from Oprah’s favorite book, “To Kill a Mockingbird” but is the official State Bird of Mississippi.

“Hope makes the impossible possible.” – Lorna Byrne

In 2001, I drew the above portrait after a gloomy period of questioning my career as an artist. My slow progress made me wonder if what I had envisioned for myself was nothing more than a fantasy. My discouragement dissipated after turning on the Oprah Winfrey Show. I was reminded that any obstacle I faced was minuscule in comparison to what she had been born into. She is black, female and perhaps the worst sin of all, ample in size. Yet none of this has stood in her way of becoming one of the most influential women in the world. Yes, Oprah’s life clearly shows anything is possible. There is much to hope for.

Born in rural Mississippi to an unwed mother, Oprah was left to be raised by her grandmother, Hattie Mae. Oprah remembers at age four, standing on the back porch churning butter. Her grandmother, called to her as she hung cloths on the line, “Oprah Gail, you better watch me now, ’cause one day you gon’ have to know how to do this for yourself.” But hope had already made a nest in Oprah’s soul. She refused to accept her grandmother’s vision for her future. She knew deep inside her life would be more than hanging clothes on a line.

Growing up, I think the same thing that perched in Oprah’s soul breathed in mine too. Looking back I remember cultivating hope as a kid by saving my drawings for biographers who would one day write about my life as an artist. Then, as a teenager, I wrote to Norman Rockwell for advice on how to become an illustrator. The encouragement in his response confirmed that my dreams where indeed possible. Hope is the tiny spark of light barely seen that pulls us forward. Without its flicker, I never would have taken the initiative to save my art or contact my hero.

2014 is going to be a good year. It’s the year for reaping what we’ve so patiently sown. It’s the year when our long-held dreams will be brought to fruition. No matter where we stand, we can see the glimmer of a better day. How do I know all this? Because 2014 is the year of hope. It’s time to fan that flame.

The painting for a Mother’s Day card I made when I was eight.

A painting for a Mother’s Day card I saved for my biographer when I was eight.

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Don’t Waste the Miracle

Posted on December 18, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

There’s a spiritual energy that covers the earth during the holiday season. It’s that undefinable “something” that makes people more selfless, more friendly and kind when December rolls around. As a child I learned it was called the Christmas spirit. Wise people tap into it and carry it with them throughout the new year.

We all hunger for a spiritual connection. It’s occurred to me that’s what all the frantic shopping and gift giving are about. Remember when you were little, the exhilaration you felt when you found what Santa left for you under the tree? And as adults there’s nothing better than watching a loved one open the “perfect” gift you’ve bought for them. The presents we buy, are our way of trying to capture the joy we’ve learned to associate with the season. A feeling, I believe, we can get long term by having a relationship with the Divine. During the holidays, we’re given an opportunity to discover or renew that connection. By consciously immersing ourselves in that love, we are transformed. All things become new. We feel the wonder of a child again.

Irish mystic, Lorna Byrne, says special angels visit the earth during the December festivities. They come to join us for the celebrations that happen across all the different beliefs and religions. She sees thousands of angels flying over houses and buildings. Lorna explains, “The angels are dropping balls of light to help us adults reconnect with the joy and innocence we felt as children. After the angels have fulfilled their task they head heavenward and disappear.” For me, this explains the mechanics behind the surge of good will I feel this time of year. I’ve learned the easiest way to connect to that energy field is to simply ask the Creator for help. Then, in the quietness of the now, awe will settle upon you.

This year our family is taking a hiatus from gift giving. With our youngest’s wedding January 4 and our first grandchild due in the spring, we thought the break would take the pressure off of everyone. Happily, the Christmas spirit is still intact and stronger than ever in my husband and me. All of our children and their spouses will be home for the holidays. Who could ask for more?

Love still comes down at Christmas. Grab hold of it. Plug into it….don’t waste the miracle.

Me unwrapping the joy on Christmas morning 1963

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Home is where the heart is. And the heart never really leaves home.

Posted on December 4, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

home-for-the-holidays-blue-line

The arms of love encompass you with your present, your past, your future, the arms of love gather you together. -Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The concept for my above christmas card, Home for the Holidays, sprang from my daughter’s imagination. Fresh from college, Bridget was nannying for a baby named Jack at the time. She was crazy about him and thought up the design so her little muse could be included. My son Brian, found the model for the angel pulling the tree. He knew Marissa’s uncle and thought she was one of most endearing little girls he’d ever met.

I was a little leery about a holiday card that focused on loved ones returning home. What about people separated by miles that for some reason couldn’t make it back? I thought how painful it would be for those who couldn’t be together because of war or worse yet death. That year when Christmas came my own daughter would be halfway across the country in Idaho. I could already feel the sting.

Difficult as it was, my daughter’s move taught me something. I learned being separated by the miles had little or no baring on our relationship. We were closer than ever. Computers and cell phones brought me to the realization that being with Bridget in person is wonderful but only one aspect of our love. Our hearts were connected even though we were miles apart.

In 2009, when my sister died suddenly, it took that notion to a whole different level. The first Christmas without her was brutal. We were so much a part of one another it felt as if she had been ripped from me. As the years passed, I’ve settled into life without her in the flesh. I’ve adjusted to having a different kind of relationship with her. It took working through the grief to get to this point. Even though we are seemingly apart, we are closer than ever, just like with Bridget.

For awhile our souls inhabit these bodies, but our true selves are connected at a higher level. Real separation from anyone we love is not possible for they are entwined in our hearts. So in this season of joy and throughout the new year, I wish you the luxury of knowing all your loved ones are home. And in fact, they never left.

My model, angel-eyed Marissa

Bridget and Jack way back when.

Joy to the World

Posted on November 20, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

Joy to the World

Joy filled to the top and spilling over, that’s what the holiday season brings. Since 2000, I’ve tried to capture that joy in a Christmas card I create in memory of my nephew. TJ, short for Timothy James, was so full of life anything less would dishonor him. Snatched from us without warning, he died 17 years ago when he was only 23.

The holiday cards are sold to raise money for a scholarship fund formed in my nephew’s name. To date over $150,000. has been dispersed to kids his parents believe their son would have chosen. Like TJ, many of the recipients have been wrestlers or students who’ve had to work at their studies harder than most. TJ had more than his share of learning problems but took them on and overcame them with heart.

A child of the foster care system, when TJ was 10 he came to my sister Laura and her husband Bob seemingly by accident. Laura, a social worker, was called by TJ’s caseworker to see if they could take him for the weekend on emergency. They did, and his stay stretched from weeks to months until they knew he was there for good. TJ had come home.

TJ struggled in school. He had profound hearing loss in his left ear and a learning disability that made it difficult to read. Laura shared her love of books by reading to him every night. That, along with exceptional teachers, helped TJ to blossom in his school studies. By the time he reached high school, he was an accomplished athlete. He excelled in football and wrestling. When it was time for college, TJ went to Eastern Illinois University on a wrestling scholarship.

In 1996, his senior year of college, TJ and his friends had gathered at a park to celebrate completing their final exams. A warm spring day, some of the kids decided to brave the swirling river and jump in. The water was especially treacherous that year because of an abundance of rain in the previous weeks. My nephew, always a lover of risk, was able to jump in and get back out. On his second try, the current pulled TJ to the spillway while he struggled to keep his head above water. His friend Joe attempted to save him, but they were both pulled under. By all accounts the boys perished around 4:00 PM that day.

At the same time my sister Laura was driving TJ’s little sisters Molly (5) and Elyse (7) home from school. Suddenly Elyse pointed to the sky and said, “Look Mama at the two angels! Can’t you see them? Right there in the clouds.” As hard as she looked Laura could see nothing but billowing sky. Later my sister told me her daughter’s assuredness of what she saw sent a small wave of fear through her. Could the angels mean something horrible had happened? Only later, when the shock began to fade, were Laura and Bob able to connect the time of their son’s passing with the angelic appearance.

Some may say the heavenly visitors appeared at the exact time of TJ’s passing by Divine appointment. What better way to help ease his little sisters’ pain then by letting them know their brother and his friend were in heaven? Bob looked at it more as TJ personally reaching out to Molly and Elyse. He was glad his son had thought of the girls and made the effort to connect with them as he passed from this world to the next. Every year I incorporate an angel in my card design to remind us that although no longer in the physical, TJ is always with us. Death isn’t strong enough to extinguish his bright light.

TJ brought much joy to the world. He was smart and loving and creative and kind. Yet, at the same time, he could be moody and selfish and inconsiderate. After he died, found among his things was a list he compiled to inspire himself in his goal to be an All-American wrestler. At the bottom of the page he wrote, “It is not where you start. It is where you finish.” As a child he endeared much sadness and neglect before he landed with my sister and her husband. From a rocky start, he accomplished much. He was perfectly imperfect in his humanity. And anyone who was lucky enough to know him wouldn’t have wanted to change a thing.

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The last picture of TJ with Molly and Elyse. Taken after an EIU Senior Night wresting meet.

I converted Sayla playing with her slime (last year's favorite Christmas gift) into an angel pouring snowflakes from a jar.

I converted a snapshot of my model Sayla playing with her “slime” (last year’s favorite Christmas gift) into an angel pouring snowflakes from a jar.

Your Children Are Not Your Children

Posted on November 6, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

Your Children Are Not Your Children

So valuable is the dignity of the human soul, that every member of the human race has a guardian from the moment the person is born.” – Saint Jerome

At first glance, one would think the above painting is an artist’s hope that guardian angels exist and guide our children. What if I told you it illustrates an actual event to the smallest detail?

Twelve years ago an old friend tracked me down after coming across a lithograph of mine. In it angels were pictured playing in the clouds, blowing stars to one another. Even though the signature on the piece was different from when I was in high school, Clare recognized my art and felt compelled to find me. She thought anyone who can paint angels like I do, must believe in them. After meeting for coffee, she confided the event that made her search me out. Two years earlier she had stood in court looking on as her ex-husband was sentenced for sexually abusing her daughter. What had taken place shook her family to its core. In the depths of their despair, an angel came to little Emma and helped her come to terms with what had happened. The angelic presence not only healed her but healed her mother and siblings too.

The events with her stepfather left Emma in deep emotional pain. She had loved him dearly and even called him dad. How could he betray her like this? How could she miss someone who had hurt her so much? One night, as she neared her breaking point, she climbed out of bed to get a tissue to dry her tears. When she returned, sitting next to her bed was a woman with wings and light radiating around her. She introduced herself as Sarah. She told Emma she was there to help. She knew that Emma missed her stepfather but promised her everything would be alright. The heavenly being assured her that she had done the right thing by revealing her secret to her mother. That was the beginning of an extraordinary relationship. Emma’s guardian angel stayed by her side during the process of pressing charges against her abuser. She always knew exactly what Emma needed to hear to soothe her.

As Clare and I rekindled our friendship, of course, I pondered the hugeness of her story. I wanted to believe her. Who wouldn’t want the comfort of knowing that our children are watched over when we can’t protect them? After meeting her kids, I was convinced something incredible had indeed taken place. I came to believe my friend’s daughter had been given a gift, through a tangible presence that had found her shattered and left her whole.

As time went on, Emma’s angel began to fade into the background but never entirely left. Today all grown up and a mother herself, she continues to be one of the most well-adjusted young ladies I’ve ever met. It’s impossible not to feel a remnant of the celestial when in her presence. Until now, her encounter with Sarah has only been disclosed to a trusted few. The way I see it, Emma’s gift is a healing balm that should be shared with the world. Her mother agrees and is now expanding her journals about her daughter’s experience into a book. As a parent, I feel privileged to have been able to tuck Emma’s visitation in my heart all these years. It’s been such a source of comfort to me while watching my children scale some very rocky terrain. In lyrics penned by Van Morrison we are assured, “You know the obstacles along the way, sometimes might feel so tremendous. There are guides and spirits all along the way, who will befriend us.” Our loved ones are watched over and cared for even when we can’t be with them. Just knowing that helps me sleep better at night.

So what about you? I would love to hear any experiences you’ve had with the angelic.

*The names were changed in the post to protect the privacy of all involved.

Dream Catchers is the image Clare came across and compelled her to find me.

www.sueshanahan.com

Time Well Spent

Posted on October 23, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

The Lily Pad

Time together is time well spent, And time with our children is heaven sent. – Author unknown, found on a vintage sampler

In the above painting, which is more endearing, the fairy or her habitat? No question in my mind, I pick the fairy. Of course, it would be fun to discover the magic of her home, but she, herself, is what would ultimately charm me. I found life imitating art while visiting my daughter in Vermont.

We had been planning my October trip for months. Five days with my Bridget in a land of eclectic shops and bistros at the base of foothills woven with color. We had every day brimming with activities. I couldn’t wait to get there and begin our adventure. The first two days went according to plan. And then on day 3 it happened, without warning, my back went out. Moment by moment, the pain worsened as we scrambled to get an appointment with a doctor on a Friday afternoon. We were lucky to find a chiropractor who squeezed me in. I did feel better after her adjustments but was advised to take it easy for the rest of my stay. Both Bridget and I were disappointed we had to cancel most of our plans (although, in retrospect, we really just felt bad for each other.) So that afternoon instead of taking her rescue dog on a hike to the reservoir we went to a movie.

Saturday we managed to browse a few shops before my back insisted we return home and ice it. That evening we had no choice but to stay in and watch a movie and sip some wine. But do you know what? We had a blast. We came to the realization the whole point of my trip was for us to be together. Sure Vermont is a beautiful place to explore but it doesn’t hold a candle to the pleasure of my daughter’s company. That night as I lay in bed my heart echoed the words of Kitty Carlisle Hart, “Each morning I wake up and say, ‘Dear Lord, I don’t want anything better; just send me more of the same.'”

Always my muse, Bridget modeled for the above illustration at age 10.

Bridget and Nelson – a moment captured on my trip.

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Falling Leaves and Letting Go

Posted on October 9, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

Autumn Caught ’em

“When I was willing to let go of what I wanted, I received what was truly mine. I’ve realized the latter is always the greater gift.“ – Anita Moorjani

Autumn is here, my favorite time of year. I love how the leaves burn with color and the bite of Canadian air. Listen closely and you can almost hear the laughter of fairies twirling in leaves carried by the wind. In one week, I fly from Chicago to visit my daughter in Vermont. Since girlhood I’ve dreamt of seeing the changing colors of fall in New England. A dream I cling to so tightly, I’m filled with anxiety. What if I miss it like I did three years ago? On that visit the leaves had barely begun to change and rain dumped gloom on every day. For the last two weeks, I’ve been panicking as I watch the foliage in my neighborhood become more colorful each day. What if all the leaves have blown off the trees by the time I get out East? That’s when the thought, “frustration comes from thinking things should be different when they’re already perfect,” hit me. It stopped me in my tracks. The only way to see that perfection is to loosen my grip and be in the now. By worrying about how the trees are going to look next week, I miss how they look right now, in my own back yard.

I’m reminded of the new PC I bought ten years ago, which I thought was a disaster at the time. After having to call customer service over ten times in three weeks, about one malfunction after another, I was certain I had a lemon. I wanted a new computer but was told I only had a two week warranty. What? I couldn’t believe it. To add to my frustration customer service was in a different part of the world. Each time I called I talked to a different operator who had no real authority to help me. With persistence I finally was able to connect with someone in management who agreed to allow me to return my computer. I shipped it back that day. After that the only thing for me to do was buy a Mac, something I had resisted for years. I vaguely knew my way around Windows and the thought of learning a new operating system overwhelmed me. As it turns out the way my brain and a Mac works are simpatico. Purchasing that dysfunctional PC turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me in my career as an artist. All the support and guidance I’ve gotten from the trainers at the Apple Store opened up my world and the floodgates of creativity. What seemed like a tragedy, in reality, was perfection unfolding.

It’s safe to trust the flow of life. Circumstances may not always seem ideal. Be open to perfect looking different than you imagined. Incidentally, my previously wash-out trip to Vermont held tons of beauty. I suspect I would have been aware of so much more if I hadn’t been so attached to my agenda and resistant to the flow of life. And as American mythologist Joseph Campbell pointed out, “We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.” And what lies in wait is always a gift.

The models who helped bring the above illustration to life. We had so much fun that day.

The models I photographed who helped bring the above illustration to life. We had so much fun that day.

A photo from my previous trip to Vermont. I was so sure the fall colors were a bust.

A shot from my previous trip to Vermont. I was so sure the autumn colors were a complete bust but my photograph tells a different story.

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www.sueshanahan.com

Divine Calling

Posted on September 25, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

Roses in Bloom

It is in by believing in roses that one brings them to bloom. – French proverb

We all have a divine calling, a purpose we were born to fulfill. Afraid to let nature take its course with our dreams, we roll up our sleeves and map out our future. Step by step we’re determined to make it happen. There’s a serious flaw in this type of thinking. Rather than moving us to our heart’s song, it keeps us stuck.

How can that be? Because in believing you have to make your passion happen, you’re limited to only what you’re capable of imagining. A more certain way to reach your goal is by envisioning what your life would be like if your longings were already realized. Indulge yourself. Start acting as if you’re already there by finding a place of trust within, a place where you know your dream is being brought to fruition. Live as if it’s already happening, and the physical world just has to catch up. Opportunities to transport you will unfold without your “help.” They will materialize as if by magic. And all you have to do is let go and dream.

Stay in the now. Work on an aspect of your heart’s desire daily. For me, today, it would be sharing my art by writing this blog. For my nephew’s wife Jamie, it’s about being the best mother she can be to baby Calvin. For Harriet Tubman, it was saying, “yes” to her calling to guide slaves to freedom in the north. She didn’t worry about unforeseen dangers on her journey. She relied on moment-to-moment guidance from her maker. By believing in our dreams, without agonizing over how to bring them to pass, we leave room for the divine to work out the details. That’s my interruption of the idiom, “God is in the details.”

In Linda Ronstadt’s new memoir, Simple Dreams it’s clear all she ever wanted to do was sing. How her gift was shared with the world wasn’t something she was consumed with. By keeping her focus on the joy of singing, her heart’s desire materialized, in a big way. Not many of us clammer for that kind recognition. But what we all do share is the desire to bring the rose we are born with to bloom. By loving that rose and leaving the particulars of its flowering to God, we leave the door open for him to out dream us. And out dream us he always does.

My nieces Collette and Andi were happy to pose as Degas ballerinas for me.

The Clock is Ticking Fast

Posted on September 11, 2013 by Sue Shanahan

“The clock is ticking fast. Burn the candle large.” – Diane Sawyer

I thought I’d be further along in my career as an artist by now. When I was a girl, I dreamed of the fruits of my talent being respected and compensated monetarily. I saved drawings with Cray-pas on Manila paper to make it easier for my biographers after I died. At age 57, I’ve had some measure of success. A painting I did of Oprah hangs in her home and my portrait of Chelsea Clinton was displayed in her mother’s private study when she lived in the White House. What is lacking is the kind of recognition that includes a steady income. Without a husband to support me, I would have thrown in the towel long ago. In retrospect, I’m shocked I didn’t realize how difficult it is to make a living as an artist sooner. That glitch in my perception may well be part of my gift. Surely without that kind of naivety I would have given up long ago.

Last week long-distance swimmer Diana Nyad gave me new hope. She calmed my fears of being washed up. If she can swim from Cuba to Florida at age 64, a feat she failed at 28, surely it’s not over for me. Entering the third act of my life can only give my work more depth. My experiences over time have added a vibrancy to my art that was absent in the struggles of youth. I’m refreshed by Nyad’s assurance, ”Never, ever give up. You’re never too old to chase your dreams.”

No matter how uncomfortable it is, keep stretching, keep believing. Risk is an extension of self-love. If you were born to sing a song, sing it. Whatever gift you were born to give, give it. Live it. It’s no accident we can’t turn back the hands of time. There is a season for everything. The gift you came to share may just have reached its full gestation and is about to be born into the world. And in perfect timing your audience waits…ready to receive it…with open arms.

Reference photo for the above illustration from my soon to be released book app, Glory in the Morning.

Commonplace Grace

Tag Archives: inspiration

I Love You to the Moon and Back

Hope in the New Year

Don’t Waste the Miracle

Home is where the heart is. And the heart never really leaves home.

Joy to the World

Your Children Are Not Your Children

Time Well Spent

Falling Leaves and Letting Go

Divine Calling

The Clock is Ticking Fast

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