So much is going on so fast, but I love it. I am happier than I've ever been in my life, I believe to my soul. I'm where I'm supposed to be, about to be doing what I'm supposed to be doing. How many people can say they feel that connection with their calling so strongly? What a blessing when it happens.

I don't know what later brings, but if it gets better, I might just explode.

For one, I know Mom is at peace. Stephen is happy and feeling secure doing that male providing thing, Devyn is on the road to becoming the active and engaged little boy he's supposed to be and he's about to be put into preschool. Everyone is taken care of.

Apparently, the Energy we otherwise call God has blessed me with significant people in my life, essential people :) I suppose, the path has been laid before me to just GO. So, I will.

Some of the most bizarre coincidences have been happening... artworks in my head I may never get to, realizations of past, present and perhaps future have come into clear focus to show a masterpiece in the making.   

Read more about whats going on later by clicking "read more" below

Warning, adult language and really weird subject matter ahead. Stop now if you're not an adult or are either so narrowminded or conventional that information from "sensitives" scare you. You've been informed. 

Something odd happened tonight and, admittedly, I needed it :) I had a rough day. My Mom is awake, but she's not eating, she doesn't feel hungry. She says no to a feeding tube, says no to wanting to die, but says no to food by mouth. I mean to tell ya, it is a full time job making sure she eats something. 

Ok, so after today, I ended up pissed off. Most of the day was spent force-feeding mom, literally, with a syringe and ensure. I didn't want to do that, it felt disrespecting, but I kept asking her if she wanted to be ill from not eating (no), if she wanted to eat (yes), if she wanted to fix her low blood sugar (yes). She was so hypoglycemic that she was cold. I wasn't mean, I was stern and loving.

Good news is that after doing that, she was more alert and felt better. I just took the syringe and wiggled it in her mouth, through clenched lips and all, and gave her a squirt to the inside of her cheek. I'm used to this stuff with dealing with Devyn's GERD and that NAAAASTY meds the docs gave him. He had quit eating at all when he was 7 months old from the pain that esophagitis had caused due to the acid repeatedly burning his throat.

So I get home and I'm mad. Maybe it was justified. Maybe it was a pity party. How long is it going to be for me to have a life of my own? Am I willing to continue this at the expense of my little boy? Haven't I suffered enough by saving her life over and over? Hasn't she suffered enough? What fresh hell is this to work so hard to get someone to survive when they say they want to, but all their actions are going against survivability? And finally, just open your mouth and eat, dammit! I don't deny I want to spend the time helping her survive or saving her, but get with the program. (And, yes, I know that her mind is inhibited by toxins, but it doesn't make the feelings any better.)

Knot in stomach, heart in vice, I go to paint. Dev's having some sleep, I start writing all I feel and what I want to say on the canvas and start getting ideas of what its going to be. The letters' lines are going to cue me in on color change. Plus, I'm letting the poison out onto the canvas so it doesn't mess with me later. 

I take a break and walk outside and hear a bell, one sound, over and over. It feels like someone is trying to get my attention. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. I feel someone there. All of a sudden, I was compelled to say "I know you're here, I just wish I could see you." I then started to feel the other person's protectiveness and that I'm never alone. They don't want this dilemma for me or us. But I get the distinct impression it isn't one of my blood relatives. 

I ask Stephen who it might be on his side: the person is protective, not to the I'll take your head off extreme, but by way of getting in between an experience and the person and shield the person. He said that sounded like his Mom. "the person is also very "polite" and would never invite themselves in... they're waiting on being welcomed in. They're not boat rockers, but they wouldn't hesitate to be fierce if they needed to" so, I said it outloud... "hey here, Mom Hill, go ahead and come in. I hope you know you're always welcome here."

With that, I went to get a cup to make some putty and didn't think any more of it. While I was getting the cup, I was overcome with motherly love, all these feelings at once just flooded in like a tsunami... all for Stephen and what he was doing with his life, how he was handling things, how well he loved, what kind of father and husband he was. I was so full of sentimentality, pride and joy (like he was MY son!) for him that I started crying. For me, thinking of my husband as a child, my child, just doesn't happen.  

I stopped what I was doing and went to tell him I was sure it was his Mom and couldn't get out what (I?) she was feeling for him because I was crying too much. I AM NOT A CRIER. I listen to slipknot, I take blows like a champ- get ticked off about situations, not hard, but not mushy, either. Sensitive, yes, empathic and compassionate, but not this.
 
Finally, all I could do was hug him and tell him how wonderful he was and that she was so so so proud of him. She was proud of his choices . He was just a good man. 

I got ahold of myself and told him that was why she was outside, she didn't want to intrude (thats one of the feelings I got) and that if he wanted to be alone with her, he could go outside. Seemed fitting that was where she was "concentrated" seeing as how he was taking out the garbage a minute or so ago. 

Stephen got some things and went outside. And, apparently, so did she... because the tidal wave was gone. I was done and was by myself to do what I wanted and my mind was quiet. What was left in her wake was contentment, gratitude, serenity. Something I'd needed all day long. What a huge gift to the both of us.... she is still mothering both of us :)

I've always considered, probably because of my upbringing and the shame surrounding that-- that I was not the kind of girl one takes home to mama. But oddly enough, as blunt, wild, bossy, outspoken and fun as I can be, but I got the distinct impression she did approve of me :)  I am honored. 

Not only that, its doing something good for those who need it :) that is the best thing in the world to me. The working Mom who doesn't have the time to invest in the simple luxury to think about it... the artist at home who is so busy listing that they can't spend the time to make their own. The person starting their business for the first time and is stuck as to what aspects they want to continue.

So, its $300 worth of Business Branding design at your disposal, all free.

You get a choice of 3 of the following:

• A logo
  
• Business Cards
• Facebook Cover
• 
  
• Linked In Cover for your company
  

Do something free for people. You won't regret it.

Check it out: All you have to do like our facebook page here- or ask a friend to :) https://www.facebook.com/HillArtistry

If you don't have a facebook account, you can also like our Linked In Hill Artistry Company page.

Its so hard to photograph one of these kinds of paintings! The glare is from all the transparent glass-like sheen, a killer to photo, but thats why I like it. OK, at the top left going clockwise, is his little brown hen's portrait. She was always on his mind, like the Elvis song, and is therefore over his head, and is always held to the highest like in her life. Her background is Mona Lisa's background. The image in front of The Good Man is also his hen, showing how he sings his love song "Unchained Melody", probably one of the most danced-to songs ever, and is probably what he felt after she passed away before he did. (Yes, animals do grieve.) He wraps her in his song. Above her head is written "She knows she's loved." This might be about her, but its more about me :) When you find a "good man", you know you're loved.

The music goes into his chest and becomes part of him because he makes it--- a creator cannot make something that isn't of him/herself, you cannot give what you don't have, as they say.

The lower right image is his bright, strong, stout legs that defended nests, dug food and showed both boundaries and kindness. In person, you can see the various shades of green at different levels of depth through the clear resin. The barbed wire is the barbed wire I wish we'd had when the neighbor's dogs had gotten loose.

The last image, the lower left, shows me really trying to capture all the colors in his feathers at once, capturing time in one glance. The only thing I could think of that held that many colors simultaneously is glitter. His feathers dangled down like earrings sometimes, like leaves and fruit from a branch, hence that odd looking decorative deely-bob on his tail.

His feathers are also referenced in the interference and iridescent colors used in the resin-glass pieces. If you look at it head on, you can see green, move to the left and you don’t see that one, but a purple sheen showing up somewhere else. The song wraps and creates both of them.

All in all, the entire color scheme is a suggestion of the time of year in which energy picks up: spring! Early spring has the chilly, frosty mornings and sunlight afternoons. Lil’ Dood was so happy around this time of year, full of himself and doing more dances and running around chanting “butter butt”.

The only thing I regret not doing was adding the chicks, but I suppose early spring is not the chick-time, so it can be overlooked. I may put a chick or two in there somewhere later.

In a word, YES. It took a long time, much fearful insights (not fearless. Courage comes from being afraid and doing what you know is right. Fearless is just... stupid. Fearless people don't have the sense to be scared, ha ha. BTDT in the teen years).

Now, life is good. We still have money troubles, an argument here and there, but the internal conflict and resolution are much easier because the agitated anxiety taught me to be open no matter how armored and spikey others are, to respect my value system, to stay away from people that don't "get" me and head towards healthy people who do. I also was gifted with the foresight to do what is right according to my conscience and for the greater good (can't even walk past litter w/out picking it up), so hopefully my art reflects this wisdom gleaned.

My art of the time is meant to be scary, funny and freaky. Thats how the situation was. My art now? Somewhat the same, but in a much more beautiful and spiritual context. God uses all sorts of experiences for his art supplies :)