Journal Batch #1

5-2023 (Note: I will not be using my blog to complain about my ex-wife. This one entry is included here to explain the gap in creativity and postings on social media. God was not welcome in my home, so for my son and my own sanity, we had to leave. My ex and her daughters are in my prayers. I still love them.) 

Amber decides she wants a new porch. This has been a common thing with her the last 9 years. She always wants to remodel when we are broke. She hires someone and it wrecks our finances, then she’s unhappy with the work and hires someone else to fix it. Then she tries to complete it herself leaving it unfinished. From interior walls, bathrooms, showers, tubs, toilets, painting walls, tearing down the back porch, ripping the chimney and wood stove out, cutting down every tree on the property, remodeling the basement, and on and on… I told her no, we don’t have the money for a new porch. She hired someone anyways, and demanded I tare down the old porch (unless I wanted to pay extra for him to do that also). My wife gets angry and stubborn, and wants her way, now! She paid this guy what we had, plus she gave him her Ford truck for the work. This made it hard during the school year to get everyone to where they needed to be (school, work, appointments, and so on…). This guy (I never did get his name) started the work and got about a third of the job done. Then it rained heavily that night. It seems he punched a hole in the side of the house leading down to the basement. This flooded the basement. 

The room it dumped water into was my office space, destroying my $1000 computer with valuable files on it, my artwork, some books and movies. This was the only space I had in the house that I could lock and keep Luke’s and my stuff safe from the girls (they often stole any money Luke may have or trash my stuff). So I confronted this contractor and explained what had happened. I asked him nicely if he could come down stairs to see if he could fix the hole. You can see from my room down there the sky through the hole he made. His response was “I made it better than it was!” & “It’s always something.” He left and never came back to finish. Every time it rains, it dumps into the basement. Amber told me to let it go. She doesn’t realize how important this room was to me. It was the only comfort (besides my son Luke) that I have in this house. And as an artist, my art has stopped. I have no joy here. 

3-25-24 (written on 2-28-24) 

Resurrection 

I have decided over the next year not to set a goal, but structure some guidelines to hone my craft. I am going to take a completely different approach to my art and my life. It’s time to be real, and to have a story. It’s time to be transparent and exposed. Ever since grade school I have identified myself as a comic book artist. I am now fifty three years old. Do you know how many completed issues of comics I have created in just under a half a century? Zero. It’s time to be uncomfortable and honest. I have spent a lot of time on social media building myself up, making me sound good. Sharing my thoughts on christian art and my big comic book ideas. But where is the produced art? Where is completion? I wash dishes and serve food at the grade school in my small town. I am at this time going through a divorce. I am a christian who strongly believes that Christ completed what He needed to do for you and I. He did not give up and He did not say it was too hard or too painful. I have always believed that was my calling as a husband and a father, to not give up. Jesus died for me, and I am called to lead my family in a way the reflects my Lord and Savior. It leaves me feeling very broken to walk away from people when Christ did not give up on me. I ran an art store in Libby Montana for about two years. Like my art and comics, I tried to approach my business in a very serious manner. I sourced cheap art supplies with options to do special orders. I taught art classes and bible studies. I even found an untapped market providing instruction for home schooled kids who needed art in their curriculum. And this all failed epically. I decided that you cannot provide a bible study when your own house is out of order. The toxic home life spilled into my business. But there was something else I was missing. Something holding back my art, my business and my life. What is my story? I kept putting out to the world who I wanted them to see. It was professional and driven, and phony. I wasn’t being me, being real. No one took to my art store because there wasn’t someone there they could identify with. Someone to like. And when God was not present in my home, I slowly removed Him from Libby Art. So it’s time to start over. I hope I have learned a few things in my life that I can use to push forward. I need to put God first. I need God in my home. I need God in my art. It’s time to stop talking big and start doing big. I need to look in the mirror. I am a single father. I am a dish washer. I am a failed business man. I am a dreamer. And I am starting over. It’s time to start at the bottom and claw my way back up. The great artist I used to be needs to start sketching and practicing again. I need to build up my skills once again. So I am going to start with basic drawing skills, practice and build myself back up. And I will document my journey. I will have a story to tell that is real. Over the next year I will humble myself, take baby steps and put the actual work into my comic book. 

3-26-24 Who Do I Belong To? 

This has become my new strength. A way to clear away the cloudy, muddy grey areas. Do I belong to my lust? My being lost? Do I belong to the world? To my possessions? Do I belong to my ex-wife, my children? Do I belong to politics, to work? Who am I? Who do I serve? Do I belong to Satan? Do I serve and worship Satan? I am angry at all the distractions, temptations and failures! I am angry with me! Who I belong to? I belong to the One who created me and gave me free will. I belong to the One who saw me stumble and fall away. I belong to the One who found a way for me to come back and to be blameless. I belong to the creator of the universe who humbled His greatness for me., I belong to the baby in the manger, hunted and attacked. I belong to the One hung between two thieves on a cross. The One crucified for me. Who do I belong to? I belong to Jesus Christ! When approaching anything in life I ask: Does this serve God? Does this serve my son Luke? Does this serve my art?