“Sunshine In My Soul” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
I do not know how people survive without faith in this dark world.
Perhaps it’s why our rates of depression, anxiety, and suicide are at all-time highs. My faith is like having sunshine in my soul. No matter how heavy the storm or dark the night, there is a joy that never dissipates, giving me hope.
I did not always have this faith. Like many, my perception of God came from the reflection of Him I saw in others. Often, it was a pretty distorted version.
But there were people I encountered who were in alignment with the merciful, mighty, and loving Father I have come to know and love.
This is the God whose light I pray shines forth from my work, so that others may see, believe, and experience this sunshine in their soul.
“To Sheboygan with Love” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x 16. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
On our very first date, Kim and I agreed to live on a lake.
As we began the process of getting to know each other, we got talking about our ideal place to live. For some reason, Idaho was mentioned. (When you grow up in a small town in Illinois surrounded by cornfields, almost everywhere feels more exotic.) We talked of mountains and potatoes (obviously), but pine trees and lakes took precedence.
We both agreed that living on a lake surrounded by tall pine trees would be an ideal place to settle down. (We didn’t necessarily know it would be together.)
The two of us dated for five years before getting married, and that vision of lake living stayed with us. We never lived on any of the four lakes that make up the heart and soul of Madison, Wisconsin, in the twenty years we called it home. We did spend hours and hours walking along those lakes, dreaming and scheming together, trying our best to figure out how to make it happen.
We were also open to other lakes in other locations. We just knew it needed to be bigger than a pond, something large enough to accommodate a pontoon boat. We tried on lots of places, including Idaho, where we finally visited for the first time while celebrating our twentieth wedding anniversary. After all those years, we couldn’t shake the dream of living on a lake.
We never anticipated it would be a Great one.
Sheboygan didn’t hit our radar until one day during the height of the pandemic. A friend of ours knew our dream. He took note of the fact that we often took vacations near the ocean because we loved the sound of the waves, and suggested we check out Lake Michigan (which looks a lot like an ocean when you’re standing on the shore, unable to see the other side).
The idea had never occurred to us. We pulled up a map and surveyed the cities east coast of Wisconsin. What about Sheboygan? I had spoken there once, and remember enjoying a few moments I had to spend sitting by the lake. We googled it, and learned it was known as the Bratwurst Capitol of the World and the Malibu of the Midwest because of its unique geographical qualities that provide ideal surfing conditions.
That kicked off a magical and miraculous journey, a long story made short by saying we now live in Sheboygan. On a lake.
This painting celebrates Sheboygan, the funny-sounding city on the shores of Lake Michigan, known for brats and surfing. But it also represents our prayers.
Saying a prayer is like launching a message in a bottle into the ocean. Once a prayer leaves your heart, you lose all control. You hope it reaches God, but once it floats out of sight, it’s easy for doubt to creep in: Did it get lost? Swallowed by a shark? Did it reach its destination only to be rejected or forgotten? You might be tempted to wonder how you could have been so foolish to trust in such an uncontrollable, unpredictable, mysterious method. Did you think this would actually work?
Our prayer to live on a lake was a message in a bottle. It floated out there for two decades.
The dream felt more and more foolish as the years wore on and our business took longer to grow than we’d expected. There were times I thought the dream was lost at sea. There were moments I wished it really was, because I was so weary from wondering what happened to it. I figured it would be easier, and less painful, to have never dreamed the dream or prayed the prayer at all.
Maybe you have a prayer like that, a message in a bottle that you’re certain is lost. I can’t tell you how your prayer will be answered, but I know for sure it’s not lost. It’s definitely not forgotten.
Somehow, our prayers find our way back, with answers washing up on unexpected shores at unexpected times. But it’s always at exactly the right time and delivers exactly what we need, even if it looks different than we imagined.
God will not let you miss your future.
It takes faith to release a prayer into the great unknown, and that faith is always rewarded.
“How Many Watermelons?” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas. Original is available. 🔴 Shop this art!
What do motivational posters, charismatic preachers, and embroidered pillows have in common?
They regularly tell us to count our blessings.
If we’re in the midst of a good day, we’d probably admit it would take a long time to count all our blessings. Maybe even longer than it would take to count all the seeds in a watermelon. But theoretically, both could be done.
This painting was inspired by the saying “Anyone can count the number of seeds in a watermelon, but only God can count the number of watermelons in a seed.”
Today is the second anniversary of the day I needed a chainsaw-wielding neighbor to help me clear trees from my driveway so I could drive to the airport for a speaking engagement. The night before, a storm descended upon our home with a terrible straight-line wind that damaged our home and devastated our property. I had to leave my wife behind in a home with no power to push aside the grief to begin the clean-up and call insurance companies.
I can assure you, it did not feel like a blessing.
That storm turned our trees into kindling and destroyed our finances. It wrought great debt and fear, and uncertainty. It brought trauma to our family and nightmares to my kids.
But it was also a seed.
A seed that has since produced many blessings…
It connected us to some amazing people.
It taught us how to receive generosity from others with humility.
It provided us with the insurance money to buy a new roof which needed to be replaced.
It opened the door to a new space to play ball and badminton and frisbee together.
It inspired us to be even more hospitable, ushering in Moonrise Movie Nights and the Wonder & Whimsy Society Family Reunion.
It gave us a new view, one that many agree is even more breathtaking than the one we had before.
It strengthened our family and bolstered our faith, bringing us even closer to God.
I suspect that dark forces were pretty happy about the storm, hoping it would destroy us. But I believe God allowed it because even though it brought a great deal of pain, he also knew just how many blessings would spring forth.
I share this not to minimize the pain any of us has experienced, but to offer a reminder that in life, pain and joy can co-exist.
Today is also Father’s Day. My experiences have led me to believe that God is a good father. He wants to hold you in his arms and give you a big, all-encompassing hug, especially if you are struggling with some great trauma of your own. I want to let you know that he is bringing forth fruit from the ashes, perhaps some of which you may already be able to perceive.
I can assure you, the full bounty goes beyond what you can ever imagine.
I’ve just shared many blessings we’ve identified from the storm we experienced. But the thing is, we’re only two years removed from it. How many more blessings have yet to be revealed?
Only God knows how many games of catch I’ll have with my son.
Only God knows all the conversations that will be had around our new fire pit.
Only God knows how many pies will be baked from the fruit trees we just planted.
Only God knows how many photos Kim will take of the wonder that will bloom there.
Only God knows how many family dinners will be shared from our deck overlooking the lake.
Only God knows how many people will be blessed and healed in some way by their time there.
Only God knows what opportunities and relationships will arise from this new space.
The storm was a seed that produced a multitude of watermelons.
And those watermelons are filled with seeds that will usher forth even more.
Only God knows all the things that will be made possible because of a brief moment in time when a hurricane-force wind whooshed through our lives one summer day.
Only God knows the number of watermelons in a seed.
“The Peach” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
Eating a peach, in season, perfectly ripe, is pure magic. But also messy.
Oh, sure, you can eat peaches before they’re ripe, and they might drip less, but they’re not nearly as good. The best peaches are always messy.
Now I’ll admit it: I prefer tidy. I like the structure of a good plan. I feel good when the dishes are done and the counter is cleared. I’m easily disturbed when piles stay piles for too long.
Is that an Adultitis-fueled trait? Perhaps. But I do find that I am more present, relaxed, and creative when clutter and chaos are minimised. In general, I don’t think it’s a terrible trait to have. And I don’t believe that an Adultitis-free life disregards any sense of order.
That said, I think we can all agree that 2020 has been less than tidy. I recently reviewed a list of all the goals I’d set for the year, and I had to cross out about 80% of them because they’d become either irrelevant or impossible. This year has been a real mess of confusion, conflict, and anxiety. In many ways, it has been a bona fide dumpster fire.
But can I let you in on a secret? We’re only halfway through, but I suspect I will look back on this year as one of the best years of my life. It might take me a few years to fully own that, but I can already see hints of its truthfulness.
At the very beginning of the pandemic, Kim and I started doing daily live-streams from our kitchen table. We didn’t know what the future had in store for us, but the message we hammered on over and over was this: look for the opportunity. We encouraged you to ask yourself, “Now that this has happened, what does this make possible?”
It was the advice we shared, but also followed.
This pandemic has strengthened my relationship with God in untold ways. It brought my family closer together. It has pushed me and Kim into making changes in our business that we’ve talked about for years, but never had the time for. It forced us into trying new things and learning new skills that will yield new fruit in the years to come. It birthed a brand new initiative – the biggest one we’ve ever undertaken – that seems destined for a time like this, but twenty years in the making. (More on that VERY soon!)
I share this because I don’t think this can be chalked up to luck or talent. I share it because it’s a technique available to anyone and because it’s possible for 2020 to be your best year ever, too.
Preposterous?
Look, we all have things outside of our control that work against us, obstacles that rise up to thwart us. But the bigger the obstacle, the bigger the opportunity. Our attitude, our mindset, the frame we choose to operate within, is entirely within our control.
You can feel under attack and choose not to play the role of victim.
You can feel anxious and choose not to cower in a corner and give in to despair.
You can feel like everything is a mess and still choose to look for beauty.
I remember the day we let our oldest daughter take control of her own ice cream cone for the first time. It was a beautiful Madison summer afternoon, and we were hanging out at the Memorial Union, overlooking picturesque Lake Mendota. We braved the super-duper-long line for ice cream and figured that rather than micromanage each lick, we’d give Lucy full reign over her Zanzibar Chocolate ice cream cone.
Kim handed it to her, and she gave a look of surprise and wonderment that appeared to say, “Are you serious?”
After getting assurance that she was on her own, Lucy dove right in, her hazel eyes shining with joy. She licked. She smiled. She concentrated. She beamed.
And she ended up with the cutest brown goatee I ever did see.
Meanwhile, the chocolate mess invaded everywhere from her nose to her toes. Her shirt and shorts were stained. The real breakthrough came when Kim, seeing the mammoth mess unfold before her very eyes, resisted every ounce of motherly urge to wrestle the cone back from our daughter. She let go of the dirty shirt, the sticky fingers, and the crazy sugar buzz that would be left behind.
She let it all go.
Later, she coined a great saying: “Never let making a mess get in the way of making a memory.”
Please note, I’m not ignoring the mess and the less-than-ideal outcomes that come from it. I’d like to offer a moment of silence for Lucy’s tank top. Several washes and stain-stick treatments later, it was unable to be revived and ended up in the trash bin of history. That’s okay, though; we’ve decided that we’d much rather have the memories of that moment than the shirt.
That “deciding” part is the key.
Seeing with new eyes isn’t about ignoring the mess. It’s about choosing to sort through it to find something good.
You may find a lifelong memory, stumble upon a new business model, or uncover the opportunity of a lifetime.
You know how, when people are asked if they would like to change a negative thing that happened in their past, they often say they’d leave things as is, because of the good things that came from it? That’s how I feel about 2020:
I may not want to RELIVE it, but I don’t think I’ll want to UNDO it, either.
Sometimes life doesn’t go the way we planned, expected, or even hoped. 2020 will probably go down as one of the messiest years we’ve ever experienced. The question is: Are you improving the odds that this year will go down as one of your best?
Adventures are rarely tidy.
Sometimes the greatest blessings spring forth from the biggest messes.
“Let There Be Light” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas. Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!
When we were children, creativity was a regular part of life, whether it led to building a fort out of blocks, fashioning a fantasy world with our imagination, or coloring made-up creatures with our crayons.
We are all still creative. Sometimes we don’t think we are, and sometimes we don’t use our creativity as much as we could. But our creativity is a gift from our Creator, and it might be my favorite. Not only is it amazingly practical, allowing us to solve problems and bring beauty into the world, but it’s magical and fun, too.
It’s been written that on the fourth day of creation, God said, “Let there be light.” And then he put the sun and the moon and the stars in their places. Here’s the amazing thing: the declaration still stands, but the torch has been passed to us.
It’s hard to imagine fashioning an entire solar system made up of planets and stars, but this painting is a reminder of the connection we share with the great Creator. Although he allows us to join him in the creative process, just like children, our results don’t always look quite as elegant. But it doesn’t matter. Because the reward is still the same and our efforts still matter.
In many ways, we still live in a dark world. In the past year alone, headlines have been dominated by natural disasters, violent terrorist attacks, and senseless mass shootings, resulting in the loss of so many innocent lives. Meanwhile, our social media streams are filled with people calling each other names. We don’t need more darkness.
Our world needs more light, not more snarky putdowns of people who think differently from us.
So…what are you doing to help?
Yes, it needs more than you or I can generate on our own, but never forget that even a tiny light can fill a room. The good news is we have what it takes because we have the gift of creativity.
We can create environments for those under our care to grow, thrive, and prosper.
We can create life-giving experiences for people who need a pick-me-up.
We can create a safe space for people to express their opinions without fear, shame, or humiliation.
We can create new technologies and systems to help more people more efficiently.
We can create conversations with people who just want to be heard.
We can create moments of magic and wonder for people worn out and weary.
“Let there be light” is a declaration. It’s also a challenge.
For me, creating art to bring joy and optimism to others is one way I’m trying to help bring light into the world. Please, will you shine yours this week?
