Following in My Father’s Footsteps

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“You definitely got your Dad’s eye for detail and texture,” one relative said after I posted one of my pictures online. “This is really beautiful, Danei,” My mother said. “Don [my father] always loved roses.” In addition to being in the ministry, my father was a self-taught artist. His preferred medium was wood. He used a soldering iron to burn beautiful pictures like this one.

For my father, every day was pretty much the same. My father was the emotional carpet in our household: his steadfast personality made him the peacemaker in our home. As I wrestle with my mental illness, however, I feel like a captain on a sea of emotion when everyone else walks on dry ground.

“You remind me of myself” my father said to me once. Not only did my father unconditionally love and support me, but also, he respected me and my ideas. Countless times in my life my father would say, “I am proud of you”. My father was always positive and encouraging even during my frustrations. Today, I am profoundly grateful. Even if we were arguing, I could see in his eyes that he saw “a bit of himself” in me. The only time I ever saw my father get angry was when I lashed out at my mother. I only did that once. Before 2019, I never doubted my abilities because of how my father treated me. As a woman in this culture, I think that is one of the best gifts a father can give his daughter.

Faith and Creativity

In Genesis 1: 27 it says, “So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” Our perception of God is formed in large part by our experiences with our earthly father and mother. My father had a profound impact on my perception of God.

However, I have wrestled a lot with my faith as a person with a mental illness. The churches’ behavior has not helped. While they “prayed the demons out of her”, a friend of mine was held down for four hours during a psychotic episode. As I confessed to my mother recently, being on medication makes it hard to discern that “still small voice” mentioned in the Bible (1 Kings 19:11-13).

During my first art class after college, I had an epiphany of God as creator. Each time I start a drawing, I marvel at the beauty, symmetry, and diversity that coexists in nature. Despite my insecurities, “just doing it” brings me joy. Yet, after each drawing is finished, I see a myriad of mistakes. My drawings are my interpretation of the picture, I tell myself.

The Gift of Roses

We are living in tumultuous times. I see good people who are angry, hurting, and afraid. I am grieving for this country. As a thoroughly Midwestern white woman, what can I do to bring about reconciliation?

As Brene’ Brown says, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.” I give you art as a means of empathy and support for everyone suffering during these complex times. Perhaps through art, I can bring some solace to your soul. Perhaps then we will all begin to think creatively and bring about innovation and change.