Danissima’s Scrapbook

I’ve encouraged and taken part in many laughs over caricature drawings over the years, but I can’t remember ever drawing a caricature that made me cry, at least not before this past weekend.  I was working at a family day function for a Veteran’s hospital, drawing Alzheimer’s patients and their families at a picnic on a crisp, sunny, autumnal afternoon. I’ve had plenty of experience drawing people with a wide range of physical and mental disabilities at various functions over the years, sometimes ignoring the wheelchair and medical apparatus in order to draw them playing baseball, or translating glassy eyes and a gaping mouth into a beaming grin with my marker and a little imagination.  The type of caricatures I draw are meant to entertain and make people feel good about themselves, whether I draw them as a superhero or doing a hobby that they’re skilled at, or any other fantastical cartoon situation.  So I have no problem giving a little flattering embellishment in these kind of situations.

As I arrived, having just discovered the type of crowd I’d be drawing at this function, I prayed a quick prayer for strength of heart, because, even though I’ve had the patience, compassion, and creativity to entertain groups like this in the past, I currently find myself lacking in those areas.  With an average amount of ability and compassion, I drew many patients, spouses, children, and grandchildren, not too different from any other job.  As my time there drew to an end, I settled in to draw my last caricature, an old couple, referred to as “the lovebirds,” by their grown children as they excitedly brought them over to my table.

I sketched in some graceful curves of the lady’s very round, smiling face with my brush pen, trying to carefully etch in her delicate hairline of neatly permed, very fine, bright white hair and her shining eyes framed with the kind of wrinkles that come from joy, not from weariness.  Then I chiseled in the long, angular features of the gentleman, doing my best to envision and capture the correct, and more flattering tilt and expression of his face as he was unable to hold up his head or close his mouth.  Deciding to do a simple head-and-shoulders sketch, I blended together the colors and necklines of the sweaters of the man and woman, thinking of the idea of “the two shall become one,” and marveling at the love in the eyes of the woman, whose husband of many years likely couldn’t even speak her name.

As I began to color the drawing, the singer of the band introduced a song she had written, a change from all the classic cover songs she had been singing throughout the event.  It was a tender love song, asking if this was “the one” to spend a lifetime with, to share the cold nights and the dark days together.  Listening to the song and studying the faces of this beautiful couple, who have walked alongside each other “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health,” and are now walking through the heartbreaking ordeal of Alzheimer’s, and seeing their happiness as they cuddled with each other, their kids stroking Dad’s head and helping him lift up his face, suddenly and strongly moved me to tears while I worked to finish the drawing.  They were both tears of joy for the beauty of the couple’s relationship, and tears of longing, loneliness, and questioning about my own future.   It’s a good thing I was wearing sunglasses, or the colors would have been smeared by some huge drops, besides the first one that i managed to wipe off the paper before it caused too much damage.  I wasn’t alone, as a few of the couple’s grown kids got choked up over the song and the moment as well. I prayed a weak, silent prayer over the couple and their family as I finished the drawing, and mustered a smile as I gave it to them, acknowledged their happiness with it, guiltily accepted the tip they offered, then cleaned up, thanked the client, and ran, crying to my car.

I’m not sure what I was supposed to learn from this moment, and I can’t really say that I was encouraged or strengthened by the experience, as tears have been ready and plentiful all weekend long as went from event to event with little rest in between.  “Cleansing of the soul,” a friend said at church that evening.  But tonight, after ending a busy weekend in front of the computer trying to find creative ways to teach verbs with infinitives that require objects, I was deeply touched by a story I read on Boundless, a web and radio publication for young adults discussing issues of Jesus and life and culture…Check it out if you like.  I don’t really have anything profound to say, but am just journaling some thoughts.

If I make it to old age, whatever my condition, I hope I’ll be able to reflect some of Jesus’ love to those around me.