Several months ago, while frequenting a coffee shop in my hometown of Raleigh, North Carolina, I noticed some incredible artwork on the wall by a local artist. One piece particularly caught my eye. Its title… “The House That Waits.”
What was unique about this artwork wasn’t just its impressionistic tones, simple childlike coloring, and the detailed brushstrokes that contrast the evening and morning… or between dusk and dawn… depending on how you look at things. It was simply its name.
A short bio of the artist, Maya, hung adjacent to her photos, carrying a youthful glow reminiscent of the work that she promotes. In it, she talked about her recent acceptance into a prestigious art academy in Rhode Island.
After reading more about her life, I started to notice something set apart about “The House That Waits” than possibly any of her other works. It wasn’t a particular detail or stylistic tone that it represented. There wasn’t anything overtly political… or subliminal… that she was trying to promote. Although, at least maybe not in this work. Yet, it seemed to say something more than just what was pictured, even if it was not trying to say it. Let me backtrack for a moment.
A Collector’s Journey
For many years, I’ve bought and sold various pieces of art at different times and seasons of my life. Some pieces I’ve spent upwards of a few thousand dollars on, while other things I’ve picked up at yard sales or occasional items left at the dumpster.
I even recall one talented artist, Caroline Merino, in my travels, who had a unique style and gifting despite her young age. When I went to purchase her portrait of a “Buffalo”, it turned out that another bidder had already secured it ahead of me the same day (yes, it was that good). Seeing that a potential bidding war was about to ensue, I reached out to the artist directly and asked if she could paint another one just like it.
Overwhelmed by the exchange, she offered to create a similar piece for me in her own style, but for a totally different animal (now my nephew has the only commissioned “Deer” portrait of hers). A local newspaper caught wind of the story and agreed to interview us, given the highly unusual circumstances that ensued.
It turned out that Caroline’s story of how she got to the level of expertise she had at such an early age stemmed from her father’s overseas service in the military. Each new school she enrolled in, sometimes in different countries, she would gain a new skill or perspective from her art teacher. The exposure to these varying styles helped her advance much further along in her craft and experiences that may have taken even seasoned artists decades, if not a lifetime, to achieve.
Beyond the Surface
But getting back to this particular piece, there’s something about the title and how it connects with the image.
When you come across a particular work, whether it’s a cover of a book, maybe on someone’s social media or dating profile, or even just our neighbors… people we see in passing. So often we come across their title, and we say, “Oh, that must be who they are.” Or perhaps the opposite’s true. Maybe we look at the individual, examine their life, and realize, do they really own up to the title that they are? Father, husband, wife, boss, supervisor, elected officials, even God?
Now… this was an art piece that says a lot more, not just by what it is, because at the surface it’s just a home in a wooded area. It’s an old, simple home, something you would find within an hour of a populated city, maybe off on the highway or through a back road you took by accident, trying to get to the main highway, to get you back to the city. It’s interesting at a time like this, with rising rents and over-expensive homes… with scarcity of jobs and high unemployment… that you can even find a house to call your own, let alone stay in one at an affordable cost.
But there was something beyond this particular scene with its simple wooden-framed, barn-style house with the lights on… this type of amber glow that just invites you to come in, that says… no matter how far civilization progresses, or how dreary and difficult your travels along the road may be, there’s a place for you here. It invites you in. It calls you to look at it, to acknowledge it, to say, “Hey, we’re not going anywhere.”
And once I thought about it more, something clicked, and I realized, “This house is me.” Not in some anthropomorphic type of way, or even some metaphorical comparison, like something you would see in wisdom literature or some poet of antiquity. No.
Reflection and Meaning
You see, the reason why people stare at art, the reason why this one caught my eye, was because the very season I was in… that I’m still in… causes me to reflect on my life. What drew me out to the city? What led me to this point… what carried me so long and so far from my hometown growing up, across vast distances or time, chance, opportunity, and misfortune? Is this the last stop for me, or are there more miles ahead, places to see, things to do, even coffee shops and art to purchase?
Now that I think of it, the whole point of OpenBooks wasn’t just to push content or even to sell an idea. It was supposed to stop people along the way and say, “Look. Look at this. There’s hope here.”
Even today, with all the trials and struggles that we go through, it seems like there’s nothing good left to redeem in man’s hearts. When civilization continues on, and man tries to reach further and higher… where that dream, that desire, escapes us because we miss the things and people along the way. And yet, the idea of a home for ourselves… where families are united together with love and peace, still warms our hearts.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll look at this painting differently. But I think for now, and maybe not just for me, but for anyone reading this, there’s some kind of peace in knowing there’s a “House that’s waiting” beyond the veil. There’s something worth returning to when civilization and humanity advance headlong into an uncertain future, or doubling down on history’s failed experiments.
The Transaction
I agreed to meet Maya’s father at the coffee shop to secure my painting, given that she was on her way to college. He was fully aware of how mature and hopeful she was, attending art school while going on to a new season of her life and journey. Maya’s father, also her manager… and possibly her best friend… made the final sale.
Talking with her dad, commenting about how talented his daughter was, I can tell he was proud. He told me more about this particular art piece, how they remember taking a family road trip together, and that she saw this house, but it wasn’t quite how the painting looked… it was how she viewed it.
Sometimes we pass through life thinking we see things the way they are… how they ought to be… and not what they could be. We don’t often look through other lenses of life and experience that differ from our own.
Even just understanding through a father’s eyes what his daughter was envisioning in her eyes, and seeing it come to life as we traded hands… It just goes to show that when you want to change things… to truly make a difference… it starts with changing hearts. It begins by looking at the simple, not the complicated or the deep, and examining what’s true, and meaningful… and honest.
Firm Foundation
So, why even own a home, anyway? Why have your own piece of land, something to call your own, something that you’ve invested in and fought for? Maybe in centuries past, have even bled to protect… for freedom, equality, identity, and hope for a better future?
You see, this house to me… in my perspective, is the Gospel.
When civilization and humanity lose their path… going its own way… it often leaves behind its faith and heritage. If we forsake the simplicity of community, the sacraments, the Divine connection both personally and corporately with our Creator… we leave future generations to ask the important questions without a roadmap to point the way.
The One who makes the heavens and the earth, the forests and trees, the wood that produces the frame of the home, and the wax that lights the candles’ glow and warms the souls of all who live in it?
You see, we too are like the house. Some of us choose to remain steadfast in faith, not aimlessly being led by civilization when its battered and storm-tossed waves seek to erode our foundations. When our resolve is being tested over and over, and over again, without ceasing.
When everything in life seems to go opposite our course… dictating direction without vision and decision without responsibility… we can choose to rest in a firm foundation that remains the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). A house that retains its light, a city on the hill, a lamp in the darkest of nights.
One that says… with a stern, but calm, voice, inviting us to exist and to trust:
Come back. Come home. Rest weary traveler… We’re waiting.
Image Source(s):
Maya: @magicflowerdesigns
Caroline: Caroline Merino Art