Desperation and Destiny: The Gift I Never Wanted

I’ve just moved to a new property, and I'm staring out at a large multipurpose building on the property—the shell of one anyway. It is a 2,000-square-foot building that needs walls, ceiling, electrical, AC, and plumbing. It's basically a metal building with cement floors and a few fluorescent lights. I’ve estimated that it will take about $25,000 to turn this space into my dream art studio.

The only problem is I’m broke. I have less than $500 in my bank account, and I’m hustling for art sales to get my bills paid this month. Staring out at this building from my kitchen window tortures me each day because both John and I are painting inside of a tiny guest bedroom and we can barely function. Many of our art supplies are still in boxes in the garage getting ruined from the heat. I see melting crayons and hardening paint in my mind’s eye and continue to pray for $25,000 to drop from the sky so we can build out the art studio.

I imagine myself on a pair of roller skates with a wet paintbrush in my hand, skating from easel to easel creating giant abstracts while the tunes blare in an ice-cold air-conditioned open space filled with shelves of every art supply that exists.

I have been asking God for $25,000 for a few months now and am beginning to lose faith that he even wants me to have a beautiful art studio. It just doesn’t make sense. Why would God allow me to move to this property with that building on it only to be held back by just $25,000? I know God isn't sadistic. God loves me and is generous and has unlimited resources. Why isn't he giving me the money?

The Prayer That Changed Everything

By early September, I have been asking for the $25,000 for three solid months, and I am exasperated. I sit at my giant kitchen table in my tiny kitchen and tell God, “I’m sick of my entire spiritual life being wrapped up in $25,000 that you refuse to give me. I’m not asking for that money ever again. If you want me painting inside a tiny bedroom for the rest of my life, FINE! But I need to know that you still exist and haven't forgotten about me. I need to see that you still answer prayer. How about you tell me what you are planning on doing, and I will pray that.”

I don't care if it’s for the neighbor to get a new van or a sick friend to be healed. I just need to see God move. I sit super still and quiet and just listen. I crane my ears toward heaven and wait for that still small voice. What I hear surprises me, and I will never forget it. I hear loud, clear, and confident in my spirit, “I’m ready to give you your art school now.”

“What???!!!” I’m stunned. I don't want an art school. Artists are insecure and difficult to work with. I don't know how to teach, or run a school, or design a class, or do anything having to do with art classes. It all sounds so daunting and difficult and well beyond my capabilities. But I am absolutely sure this was God talking to me. I am sure that this notion of an art school is outside of myself. I have never wanted that, or even thought of it. The idea of having my own art school is completely foreign.

But a deal is a deal. I wanted to know that God still existed, and this is my chance. I have to do my part and agree with him.

“Ok, I guess, please give me my art school then, and with it the desire for it and the passion I need to carry it out, and please give me the knowledge I need to know how to create an art school.” I pray this with very little confidence or excitement. Just simple reluctant obedience.

I don’t tell anyone but John about the strange incident at my kitchen table. His reaction is, “Yeah, I could see that.” He can?! See me starting an art school?

Within three days of that prayer, I start to really want the school. I begin fantasizing about shelves full of art supplies and people at their easels painting while I go around explaining how I paint. I start to see all the big dots in my life connect with each other and with the vision about an art movement and artist community that has been with me since I was 19 years old. I’m growing excited about the idea and beginning to believe this was God’s plan all along.

But my attention span is short. Life moves on, and I continue to paint in the guest bedroom. In October, my mentor Beverly invites me to go to Ukraine for the first time and arranges for me to talk with some art students at the university. I go and share with them that they have a voice that the world needs to hear; that as artists, they can build art businesses outside of Ukraine and use social media to gain a following; and that now is the best time to be alive as an artist.

Standing there in front of a whole room of young artists, inspiring them and giving them hope for a future, inspires me and gives me belief that I have something to offer other artists.

The Beauty of Divine Timing 

When my mom picks me up from the airport, she excitedly tells me that $26,000 fell out of the sky for me. She didn't know anything about the school, only that I wanted to build an art studio. The miracle was a convoluted story involving an inheritance, the US government, Vietnam, and an Agent Orange settlement. But $26,000 is mine, and God has come through.

Now it’s my turn. I have to make good on my commitment to actually start an art school. Now that it’s all real, I have no clue how to start. I decide I’ll just concentrate on getting the building built out, and then I’ll worry about the art school. I can put off starting the school until I feel ready. It’s fine. God will understand, as long as I intend to do it someday.

But my phone rings and interrupts those thoughts. My friend Diana is on the other end. She asks me if I would be willing to teach art to 15 of the women in her church group who all want to give it a try. She asks if I know of a place we could rent to have the classes.

“Well, it just so happens I’m finishing building out my new 2,000-square-foot art studio and would love to help you with this.” Diana is thrilled and officially becomes my first student.

That’s when I realize there is absolutely no escaping this art school. I can try to hide, make excuses, and pretend none of this happened, but the art school will chase me down until I give in. This is a true mandate from heaven. I know it.

Miracles, Excuses, and Finding Purpose

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