I did a fundraiser with what I had "laying around," what might be of value to sell. It was for our second son's adoption.
It made total sense and I was excited to do it: a good, old-fashioned art sale where sketches go for pennies and people are given the opportunity to have original art in their homes!
I know, chances are that you didn't know about it. We did not make it public. It was to be a small sale to those who supported us through hard times. They raised funds with us when nothing but eternal promises would be their gain. A small group was emailed and a very few from those responded. I was okay with that. I only wanted these to go to homes that would cherish them!
Now, I'm not typically attached to my artwork. I'd much rather see it hung anywhere than laying in a pretty little box in my studio. But there was something about selling them in volume, and so quickly, and so inexpensively.
I packaged up the orders of the winning bidders, and got a call from someone that was interested in taking all the rest. Great! I guess the auction was a total success! But why am I not happy?
And it hit me: I felt like I was selling my hair. But why? Call it a Les Mis moment, but I resonated with Fantine's fight for her child. It wasn't about the hair. It was recognizing the very truth of how much this fundraiser meant to me. The reason for the auction greatly surpasses the value of those paintings to me... at whatever volume or price tag! Coming to terms with what you value by looking at your actions can startle you.
But what made it painful is this: I won't see their dividends for months. Silas still remains an abstract boy in my mind, one I've never met or touched. The picture I have of him getting dated by the minute.
Somewhere in my line of thinking I thought that being better able to pay for the latest adoption fee would make him come sooner. And it may... in a way... but here I am dealing in abstracts again. Nothing has changed.
The truth was that what I felt had little to do with paintings. My sadness came from my shattered hope of wanting to take the reigns and drive this thing... to China and back. Pronto.
Sorting these feelings out did offer me some peace, as did having a bit more in our adoption fund. Finances are tight and I'm so grateful for those who voluntarily share the burden with us.
I could finally be grateful.
Of all the things adopting has been claimed to be, one of them is not "easy"... or "smooth" or "fast" or "simple." But it is wonderful. It is transformative. It is worth the headache and heartache.
It is worth it. That precious human being is worth it. I only know that cognitively right now, but I have a feeling that once I see him, I'll be willing to sell *masterpieces for pennies.
*Given that I ever create any!
Read more specifics about our boy on our adoption fund page.
See you back here Friday!