Oil on canvas, lacquered

My husband and I have been fortunate enough to settle down in Nashville, Tennessee (Woot!).

We love it here, truly, but miss our families back home in South Carolina and Pennsylvania. Many a car ride has been made to and fro between those great states and ours, and many a mile has been logged on highways.

This painting was inspired by one of those trips. I’ve long been a poppy enthusiast (is that a real thing?) but had never seen them along the highway median in this way before—planted there with purpose and in abundance.

What I love about the poppy is its delicate nature and how fragile it is on its own.

But…when it’s multiplied over and over and over again, the effect is breathtaking. Strength in numbers, so to speak.

This painting of the poppy fields reminds me of the family, or tribe, of people we’ve built here in Nashville. One by one, we look like spindly little wisps, but the overall picture of community here is strong, beautiful, stunning in person. It’s at once downright breathtaking and life giving. We are blessed, I tell you. Blessed beyond anything I knew was possible.

You may have heard of a little (“500-year”) flood that graced our city back on May 1st and 2nd of this year. The flooding was…I’m not sure how to describe it. Devastating? We were overwhelmed; let’s just say that.

[You may have seen news coverage—the operate words being “may have”—of the flood. There were a few other things going on that I guess were a bit sexier to national news outlets (i.e., a failed terror plot and a teeny, little oil leak in the Gulf). When CNN’s Anderson Cooper finally made it here, he apologized profusely on-air for missing the opportunity to report about the flood in a timely fashion. It’s all good though, Coop. Better late than never. We watched your special over and over again.]

I’d never seen rain literally come down in sheets and in such an oppressive way. There was no reprieve. It. Did. Not. Stop. When it finally drew back that first night, we had just enough time to catch our breath before we were dumped on again the next morning.

The rain was worse the second day than it was the first.

I will never forget the look in my husband’s eyes; it brings tears to mine still.

Our home was flooded, but not lost like so many others’. People literally lost everything, and our downtown streets were completely underwater. I remember thinking how surreal everything looked. It would have been humorous, if not for the whole loss and devastation bit.

But here’s what was even more remarkable about the whole experience: while the waters flowed, the outpouring of love from our community was even greater.

A week after the flood, some dear friends gave us the gift of a night out while they watched our sweet girls. As my husband and I held hands—for what seemed like the first time in months—across the table, we began to laugh out of sheer exhaustion. Laughter shifted seamlessly into tears.  We couldn’t believe what had transpired over the last seven days. We needed to put it into words, write it down, to articulate how grateful we were.

So we excitedly wrote down the names of everyone who helped us over those seven days. Right there in the restaurant. We counted over 50 people. Over 50 people were there for us—with purpose and in abundance.

It should be said that we’re not even sure what some of these people’s last names are; our church directed a few of them to us. So, just to be clear: there were complete strangers in our house wielding nail guns and drinking Dr. Pepper (a small, yet universal, token of appreciation).

What’s even more incredible is that more folks would have come to our house if their own homes hadn’t been flooded. Most of our neighbors were suffering the same fate simultaneously.

It blows my mind. It is too much to conceive that all those people came to help us, doing everything from schlepping water out (over 2500 gallons), holding our babies, bringing us food (Alli, your cookies!), hanging (and mudding, and sanding) drywall, putting down new hardwood flooring… Holding our hands through a truly difficult and life-changing weekend.

Consider us humbled by your goodness.

We have yet to find a suitable way to thank all of these folks, but we’re working on it. We’re working on it. We haven’t forgotten.

We are Nashville.

Woot! Indeed.