Author Archives: Melissa Fischer

Unexpected

Posted on by

A few months ago, during the pandemic lockdown, a friend suggested we each do some writing based on the prompt “Unexpected.” My mind was immediately flooded with all sorts of thoughts, some of which I scribbled in my journal.

Then my father died. He had not been in good health and was increasingly frail, but his death had not seemed imminent until a few days prior, despite the fact that he was nearly 96. Both of these pieces were written before my father’s death, but having experienced yet again that even the expected can hit one hard emotionally, I didn’t get around to typing them up until now. I may yet have more to add on this topic as I continue to process his death, my life, and a world in which hard things, both expected and unexpected, will continue to occur.

Unexpected (April 22, 2020)

“Come Thou Long-expected Jesus”—One of my favorite Christmas hymns, comes to mind every time I think of the word “unexpected.” Since I was a teenager I’ve loved this hymn that speaks of how Christ the Messiah was expected, predicted, prophesied for generations, centuries actually—more than 18 centuries. Expected for so long that he became unexpected, so that even those who knew the prophecies best and were, in theory, waiting eagerly for his coming were not actually expecting his arrival.

How about me? I know he will come again; that coming was also prophesied by multiple prophets, and Jesus said many times that he will come again. But will I be ready, watching for him, expectant? Or will his coming be unexpected, because time goes by and the ordinary continues, as it always does?

Or does it? These days of Covid-19 are far from ordinary. Nothing like this has happened in my lifetime, and our society, along with many societies around the world, is reeling. This level of disruption to our daily life and economy is truly unexpected. Because the unexpected has occurred, the possibility of serious illness and death at a relatively young age for some in our circles of friends and family can no longer be considered unexpected.

Interesting that the unexpected of one sort has made what was unexpected in another realm now likely rather than unexpected. The unexpected makes the unexpected expected. Am I ready? Am I expectant?

More thoughts on “Unexpected” (May 7, 2020)

It seems to me there are two categories of “unexpected.” There is that which is unexpected because one never thought it would happen and most likely never gave it any thought. This Covid-19 pandemic is such—who would ever have thought that our economy would come to a screeching halt, and not just ours, but most economies around the world? Who would have ever thought we’d be under stay-at-home orders for many weeks? This is unprecedented in our country, at least in my lifetime. I suppose there are countless scenarios that fall into this category, but it doesn’t seem reasonable to expend much mental energy on such possibilities, as they are truly unlikely by virtue of being so extreme.

So how can one prepare? I think in the same way one prepares for the other category of “unexpected,”  those events that are inevitable but happen earlier than expected. This second category would include what is often termed the “unexpected death” of someone. Actually, dying is one of the most certain events I or anyone will ever face—every one of us will die someday. So by “unexpected” we mean that death came at a time we didn’t see it coming. A heart attack, stroke, accident, violent attack—these are some causes of unexpected deaths,, even though some of these causes are not so uncommon.

So how can I avoid the shock of the inevitable catching me unawares, thus seeming unexpected? I think Moses, millennia ago, had part of the answer:

Teach us to realize the brevity of life,
so that we may grow in wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)

If I truly grasp the brevity of my life (or as another translation puts it, if I “number my days”), I will always live with an awareness of possible death and a readiness to face it. If viewed with wisdom, that readiness to face and accept my death, whenever it may come, includes a recognition that God holds all of this life and this world, past, present, and future in his good, powerful, and loving hands. That confidence should enable me to trust him with both the inevitable and the truly unexpected, because I know I am safely held in his hands, and nothing is unexpected for him.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning.. Lamentations 3:22-23

Bats and Planets Dancing Overhead

Posted on by

I gaze up at Mars and Venus in the dim sky of early dawn, red guardian of the night and bright herald of the coming day, steadfast in their stately dance through the heavens. Far closer to earth, three bats catch my eye as they swoop and circle, sometimes together, sometimes singly, in constant motion, choreography in the air. A fourth joins the dance, their flight like fleeting lines of calligraphy tracing the sky along lines only they can see. Then, suddenly all four vanish, as if at some secret signal. Perhaps the sun, still 20 minutes from rising, has lightened the sky just enough to announce bat bedtime?

Just as I turn to go inside, a single bat streaks from the silhouetted trees to fly in joyous loops and circles, up and down, around and about, seeming for all the world like a preschooler who’s escaped his bedroom for one last gleeful playtime before being put to bed. Or perhaps a young teenager daring to stay out past curfew just long enough to see if he can, to see what really happens when day begins and bats must say goodnight. Laughing, I watch his youthful antics as a Wren began to sing. After just a minute, having tasted the dawn, he, too, vanishes, the sky now the realm of  birds. I look up again; Mars and Venus still dance, their movement nearly imperceptible, their course sure through ages past and ages yet to come.

Bats 082520

Sketches of Stephen

Posted on by

Stephen reads to me nearly every evening; this has been part of our end-of-day routine for years now. We’ve probably read through over a hundred books by now, the majority fantasy or science fiction, with a smattering of classics and a few other genres. I really look forward to the time to connect, to unwind after the fullness of each day, and to enjoy a good book together. I often sketch while Steve reads, sometimes making cards or sketching the view out the window, but more often than not sketching him as he reads. Here’s a selection of sketches from the past year or two. These are all done without preliminary predrawing; sometimes I have a hard time with proportions, but I’m getting to the point I think I could sketch him from memory. 🙂

20200114_20275420200114_204252

Sketched using a very old set of childrens watercolors– rather odd colors, but fun to play with
Reading lying down when his back was hurting

Sketched in gouache– no predrawing

 

Rhythm of Life and Books, Books, Books

Posted on by

It’s been over two months since I posted, and I am planning to start posting art and musings somewhat more regularly. I have recently decided to step back from most of Facebook, which is giving me more time (it’s so easy to lose vast amounts of time browsing through friends’ news feeds and reading comments), and, more importantly, is freeing up more mental energy. I am still posting some artwork and photos on Facebook, but I am reading very little there and am enjoying greater peace of mind and more time to read and to make art, whether painting or sketching.

We came home from Maine near the end of June, and since then I’ve been taking time off from my dog training business to get settled back in after three months away, but mostly to recover from many months of stress that started with my parents’ health issues back in the fall, included some health issues for Stephen and me, then the twins’ premature birth and our temporary and sudden move to Maine, then my father’s illness and death. And then I wiped out on my bicycle and cracked a few ribs a week before we returned home from Maine. I was ready for a break!

During this time I’ve been trying to establish a better rhythm for my days, and toward that end I’ve been reading some helpful books, as well doing much pondering as I walk the dogs and some journaling most mornings. One book which I’m very much appreciating right now is The Pressure’s Off, by Larry Crabb, who has long been a favorite author of mine. I’ve only read the first few chapters, but he emphasizes the absolute importance of desiring intimacy with God over the blessings we would like to have in this life. He says that as long as we believe that if we live a certain way doing the “right” things we are likely to have the life we want (health, comfortable home, children who are doing well, etc), we will be under tremendous pressure to “get it right.” But if our greatest desire is to draw close to God no matter how things are going in our life, the pressure is off, because we aren’t focused on outcomes that we can’t really control anyway, and we can be satisfied at the deepest level of our being that nothing but God can truly satisfy, since we were created for connection with him.

I’m also reading Sacred Rhythms, by Ruth Haley Barton, another favorite author of mine. I’m only in the third chapter, but she starts right out talking about longing for God, about reading Scripture in a way that draws me into the story and then makes the story of Scripture a part of my life, and about solitude– how I love that word as an invitation to my soul to step out from under the pressure of daily life and expectations!

Just yesterday I started reading Cloister Walk, by Kathleen Norris, which I expect will stir in me a desire for a Benedictine-like rhythm to my days, which will help maintain my focus and dependence on God. I have previously read on and pondered Benedictine spirituality and always found it helpful, but it’s hard to stay on track without some sort of accountability (which is built into Benedictine life). Both Larry Crabb and Ruth Haley Barton talk about the need for spiritual friendships that provide ongoing encouragement and discernment, which brings me to another book I’m reading and discussing with a close friend: Crafting a Rule of Life, by Stephen Macchia. I’ve found it a bit tedious at times, but useful for helping me sort through various aspects of my life, interests, passions, goals, and responsibilities, and I think discussing it with a friend will help with both discernment and mutual encouragement. That seems especially important during this time of somewhat limited interaction with others due to Covid-19.

As usual, I am reading a mini-library, rather than just one book, and the one I’ve mentioned are just a few of my current books. I’m also reading a fascinating, fabulously well-written, informative book called Ice: The Nature, the History, and the Uses of an Astonishing Substance, by Marian Gosnell; A Spark of Light by Jodi Picoult (just started this, but think it will be hard to put down); Letters to the Church, by Francis Chan (which I think will tie in well with the books on spiritual focus); and A Grief Observed, by C.S. Lewis; as well as a couple of art books about painting landscapes; and Dog Songs, a book of beautifully illustrated and insightful poems by Mary Oliver, one of my favorite contemporary poets. In addition to all of these books, I am reading through the book of Psalms over and over (about once a month) and Stephen and I are reading aloud through the Old Testament a page or so at a time. And he and I have also been reading through Orson Scott Card’s many science fiction books, which are very engaging I’m planning on picking up The President’s Club: Inside the World’s Most Exclusive Fraternity, by Nancy Gibbs and Michael Duffy sometime in the next week or so, as someone recently recommended it.

Well, I wasn’t originally planning this to be a post primarily about books, but that seems to be where my thoughts have gone. I do find that reading slows me down from the overly fast and pressured pace of life dictated by modern technology and issues and often helps to establish some rhythm to my days. It also gives my wonderful cat Acadia time to snuggle on my lap, where she makes sure I don’t get too deeply absorbed in whatever I’m reading. If you have any recommendations for me, please feel free to mention them in a comment. I have a long, long list of recommended books, but I’m always happy to add to it.

Acadia snuggling while I read
Acadia telling me to stop reading and pay attention to her

Brokenness and Beauty; Grief and Hope

Posted on by
??????????????
Papa and I had a wonderful lunch together in 2017 at The Modern restaurant at the Museum of Modern Art– a fabulous day!

This has been a deeply sad week for me. My father died last Monday, Memorial Day, which seems fitting for a veteran. We had some very good times, and I am overflowing with wonderful memories, both from my childhood and from more recent years. Sadly, though, we also had times throughout my life when there was tension between us. The last two years were not good for us, though thankfully in his final weeks I felt that we had some renewed connection. It still does not seem possible that he is no longer here; I was so hoping for more time to reconnect, to hear his stories, to show him my sketchbooks, to sit with him watching the birds and chipmunks he so enjoyed.

I was thinking during the weeks of my father’s recent decline about how all people are both broken and beautiful; broken by others or by their own choices, beautiful because all people are created in the image of God and bear something of that image, no matter how broken they may be. That was very true of my father; he had significant brokenness that, along with my own brokenness, strained our relationship, but he was also an extraordinary person with many talents, who was people-oriented and generous. I am thankful for many of the interests and abilities that I carry on from my father and, going forward, I hope to pursue them in his honor and to God’s glory.

Here is what I wrote to be shared at his funeral:

I’ve often been told I look like my father. I don’t know if I do or not, but I know I am like him in many ways, and Papa is a big part of who I am. I owe much of my love of nature and appreciation for and beauty to Papa. I still picture walking with him in Butler Sanctuary, admiring a long black snake draped across the rocks on Blacksnake Hill; finding morels on a steep, rocky slope; picking bayberries to make bayberry candles. One day when he and I walked in our own woods, an enticing scent suddenly caught my attention, and I turned to see oyster mushrooms climbing a dead tree. FIVE POUNDS of oyster mushrooms, as Papa often told me with delight and obvious pride in me for finding them. I think of that day with Papa every time I see oyster mushrooms.

I remember the day not so many years ago when Papa took me to an exhibit of Van Gogh drawings and paintings. We went through the entire exhibit together, quietly discussing many of the pieces, then decided to go through separately to each study our favorites. I focused on a number of drawings and a few paintings; Papa just sat in front of his favorite, a large, colorful painting, silently observing it, deeply appreciating the opportunity to simply enjoy it. I so admire his ability to sit quietly, whether observing a painting; watching a hummingbird hovering in front of him; or taming the chipmunks that gamboled by his feet, on his hands, even in his shirt pockets.

Papa, like most of us, was a complex person with a blend of strengths and weaknesses and, sadly, he and I had a frequently strained relationship. He didn’t always show an overabundance of sensitivity to others’ emotions, but one occasion will always stay with me. I’d heard at the bus stop that a black and white cat had been hit by a car a ways up Chestnut Ridge Road. As soon as I got home I told Papa, and he immediately drove me up there. I had been wondering if it was our semi-feral Bilateral Symmetry, but when we drove past on the other side of the road, I stiffened as I saw a long-haired cat lying beside the road—Dis? Papa turned the car around and stopped by the cat. It was indeed my beloved Dis. We drove home, me in tears with Dis on my lap, then Papa dug a grave in a beautiful spot in the woods by the rhododendron-covered pathway. Papa took Dis’s body, laid her gently in the grave, covered her with dirt. He spoke with me some about death; I don’t remember specifics, but I have always remembered with gratitude what he said right afterwards—that he had buried Dis facing east with her head uphill.

Papa, I trust that on the last day you will rise up, facing east and rejoicing to see Christ come to take us home. I love you always and will be looking for you then.

Papa watching the birds and chipmunks- something I loved doing with him
Papa singing “Amazing Grace” with my mother and siblings two days before his death (I was “there” via Zoom)
The last card I painted for Papa

 

More Front Porch Sketches

Posted on by

As the days warm up (at least for this week, who knows what next week will bring), more people and dogs are out enjoying the fresh air, sunshine, and quarantine-quiet roads. And I continue to enjoy watching and sketching many now familiar figures, as well as new ones.

Today was my weekly Quiet Day– a sabbath-like day I take most Saturdays to read, pray, and generally rejuvenate myself, as I relish God’s gift of rest and refreshment in a time of solitude and silence. And of course sketching is a part of that. Somehow when I pick up sketchbook and pen, I almost invariably find myself praying for at least some of time I’m sketching, sometimes in words of praise and worship, sometimes in prayer for others, and often just in quiet communion with God– prayer without words.

Some of my sketches “turn out,” others barely look like people, but all help me to see the dozens of people who go by as individuals, each unique in some way or another, each bearing the image of God in their being. For me, this season of Covid seems to be a time of focusing on people, whether my son and his family whom I’m here to help; or our other children and grandchildren in Texas, dealing with homeschooling all of a sudden, and North Carolina, adjusting to a new baby; or neighbors walking by, some of whom I meet as I walk my dogs; or my family at home in New York caring for my aged and ailing father; or the many people I know who are ill or at-risk or lonely because of Covid. Sketching my neighbors walking by is a daily reminder to consider all these people, those whom I know and those whom I have not yet met, and bring them before our loving God in prayer.

IMG_0001 IMG_0003 IMG_0004 IMG_0005 IMG_0006

Happy 15th Birthday, Petra!

Posted on by

Petra A 051620

Happy Birthday to our Petra Sweetie!

Here are a few recent photos of our sweet Petra. She’s doing wonderfully for her age; she sleeps more, is mostly deaf, and is a bit arthritic, but she still walks a few miles with me most days and runs and plays and keeps Ramble in line. After nearly losing Petra a couple of times due to illness or injury, we are grateful for every day we have with her and we’re hoping to have plenty more days, months, and even years with her.

Maine 2020 B Maine 2020 C Maine 2020 D Maine 2020 E Maine 2020 F Maine 2020 G Maine 2020

Front Porch Sketches

Posted on by

I’ve been in Maine for a couple of months helping take care of our young granddaughter while our preemie twin grandsons are in the NICU. In these days of Covid quarantine and distancing,  there are few cars and many pedestrians in the neighborhood where I’m staying in a rental house. Since I’m babysitting weekdays, I’m not usually able to get into a painting frame of mind., but  I often start my day sipping tea on the porch and sketching people as they walk their dogs,  jog, meander by, or work in their yards. Here are a few of my front porch sketches.

20200511_15264120200511_15271520200511_152653

20200511_152628

20200511_152612

20200511_152703

Sunrise

Posted on by

Here in Maine sunrise is early this time of year– 5:25 am today. I am grateful that, thanks to the predawn shenanigans of my playful cat, Acadia, I was up early enough this morning to see a spectacular sunrise.  These are some words that came to me as I watched the day awakening, while awaiting updates about my father who is in the hospital with possible Covid-19:

I know not what today may bring
of joy or grief, of life or loss,
but this I know and rest my hope upon–
that surely as the sun did rise,
Christ my Lord is risen too,
defeating death, restoring life,
the Son of God, the light of all!

Sunrise 043020

Africa 2019 Sketches

Posted on by

Here is a sampling of my sketches from both of our safaris in South Africa and from Zimbabwe and Botswana. Most of these sketches were done in less than a minute, as very few of the animals would stand still for long, if at all. Some are composite sketches of various animals seen in one location at one time, and some are stop and start sketches done of a given animal as it would move and then return briefly to a previous posture, so I could add a bit more to a sketch I had started. I LOVED all the time sketching and am missing the opportunity to view and sketch so much amazing and intriguing wildlife. The sketches with watercolor were started in pencil or pen while on the game drive, with watercolor added later.

Stanley, our tracker, sitting in his seat on the front of the Safari vehicle
Vic Falls
Victoria Falls watercolor sketch
Rhino field sketch, watercolor added
Elephant field sketches -Kambaku Safari Lodge
Buffalo field sketches
Lioness eating warthog head field sketch
Lioness carrying warthog head field sketch
I sketched this Burchell’s Starling as it hopped around near me in camp
Elephant field sketch in water-soluble ink
Lounging lion pride field sketch
Impala field sketch
Young male lion sketch, watercolor & ink
Mopane tree field sketch
Cheetah, Waterbuck, & Saddle-billed Stork field sketch
Sleepy lion cubs field sketch
Timbavati Nature Reserve field sketches
Chobe National Park field sketches
Chobe National Park field sketches
Warthog field sketches
Bird ID field sketches- Magpie Shrike & Southern Black Flycatcher