I believe I also omitted this one from the first set of released chapters, I guess I just omitted the unpleasant memories. Haha! Well, no holds barred this time. It
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The Pink Room: Thoughts About Intentional Living
Chapter 2/ Is this Reality?
Part 3 (Previous post contain the previous chapter.)
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It
is interesting how many problems seem really big at the time they are
happening. I have vivid memories of certain situations that seemed traumatic.
My
first haircut, for instance, seemed like a really big deal at the time. Mom got
Beth and I matching bowl haircuts, the type that looked like it was a tracing
of Tupperware. I was nauseated at the thought; I didn’t want to get my hair
cut. I was subject to my sister’s habit of cutting out knots in her hair with a
scissors, it hurt too much to brush them out and that I had a “wobbly head.” Mom
would tell me that when she was trying brush the tangles out. She began working
the brush through and as the friction grew my head would follow. If she would
have kept pulling the brush, I could have been walked like a pet dog. She
always stopped and shortly after that she’d begin again, left hand holding the
top of my head still and up right, and slowly working out tangles.
Then
the Bishop wouldn’t let me be an altar server, for him, because I was a
female. So I quit.
Some
friends and I wanted to start a high school Bible study. Three of us talked
with just about everyone on campus before one teacher finally opened his room
for our meetings. As soon as it began we were told it had to end, many
discussions later it continued. But it was one trial after another.
I
would go to church on Saturdays where my youth group was held, on Sundays I
would go to the Catholic service with my family.
The
Bible study finally got established and then the Catholic Church wouldn’t let
me start a youth group.
And
then I started college—the next struggle: there was the nude drawing
class. My undergraduate degree was supposed to be Graphic Design with a
Minor in Art or Art Education. One of my art professors recruited me for the
college I went to. I was promised three things—art and academic scholarships
and the option to opt out of drawing nudes because I was not convinced it was
good for my faith life. I was not convinced that it was necessary to take the
nude figure drawing class. I was open-minded about it, I just wanted someone to
explain why it was critical to my artistic development (or anyone’s) and if it
was truly morally okay.
Before
I went I was told that would all be okay—I could take a different drawing class
for that credit or do an independent study. I was told I could do an
independent study in landscape drawing. By my second semester the drawing
instructor, who was about as different from me in her beliefs as humanly
possible, she had decided that wasn’t a valid option right as the class was
beginning.
I
was stuck, I had to draw nudes or change my major. So I asked for the history
and proof it was morally okay. She gave me 6 or 7 books. After reading the
prescribed books on the topic, from the instructor, I was not convinced of the
need to take the class. I’m really not sure what she was trying to prove. And I
wish I would have kept the titles. In one of the books it discussed the
origination of nude figure study. That book said it all started in the Greek
society by homosexual men and pedophiles who wanted to have erotic experiences.
Another one stated that the paintings and sculptures were kept by the wealthy
as a sign of status because, something like, the culture valued homosexual
experimentation. It was not uncommon to have conquests and be married—the marriage
was for legitimate children and the conquests for excitement. So, knowing I was
questioning the moral part, this woman gave me these reasons as support. I was
very upset, only eighteen years old and thirteen hours from home. I didn’t have
time to find the answer to a moral question. I had to make a decision.
I
ended up changing my major, more so out of an inability to reconcile the issue
in my own spirit than anything else. In the process, I was called immature and
inflexible, and there was a letter written to my parents on the topic outlining
how my reasons were excuses and I was afraid more than anything else, the
faculty saw it before and I was no different than those students. Insult added
to injury.
I’ve
never figured out how evaluating your faith-life and potential eternal
consequences could be called immature, but whatever. Maybe someday I will deal
with deep issues. I’m being sardonic.
Figure
drawing, nudes, was a monster I had to address a second time. When I returned
to school for my teaching license I nearly wet my pants when I realized I was
up against the same issue—again. Told AGAIN I could substitute landscape as an
independent study and AGAIN not able to. Right as the class was beginning the instructors
decided not to support the coursework, no one would take it. And again, I think
that instructors assumed I was bashful or embarrassed, or I couldn’t draw or
some other issue but none were MY issues. No one seemed to be able to hear what
I was asking. Literal moral consequences—were there any? To understand: all I
wanted was to do what God would be pleased with.
I
finally emailed my pastor, he sent a great note about not worrying because I
could treat the subject with respect and not make it into a lust. No different
from helping an elderly parent bathing. It was not in the physical but in what
you do next—the problem with this type of thing, which butts right up against a
grey moral area, is not with it existing, but instead with what you think about,
what you allow yourself to feel and allow yourself to act on. And we take these
things way too lightly as a culture.
Finally,
someone was really truly fully listening. I wasn’t excited about this, but I
did it. I know myself and where my weaknesses lie. I knew without a doubt I
would not have an issue. I always choose a respectable composition and showed
the model modestly. Because I also felt
the moral responsibility not to cause others to struggle with the resulting
art. I feel that strongly about this, yes.
And
somehow God honored my heart, to please Him, even in the midst of the mess.
What
the most satisfying part was: when we'd end a project (most days), the whole class would
stand around my drawings looking at them and asking how I did them, sometimes
even the professor.
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I
think that some problems are God’s way of coaching us. It seems like some can’t
be fixed until the right people are in the right places and say the right
things—suddenly everything unlocks and starts to shake loose until it is in
right order again. I had to wait ten years for the answer to the question I had
about the figure drawing class.
I am
positive that if we are willing to wait for the answer, God will show up.
But through mountains of fear and trepidation I searched and
learned God cares how I’m doing and how I’m doing whatever it is I’m doing. He
will keep bring up things that need to be healed-up, in different ways, until
they are. He not only wants us holy, but also whole. So it is also important
with which disposition of my heart I do the things I do. God cares about my
emotional health, my finances and my relationships—all of it. He cares so much
He asks me to do certain things, in certain ways. They are guidelines, like a
good parent has boundaries for their children, so does God. God cares about all
of it. And cares about all of me!
