The Tropical House, Free Art, and a Prayer

Learning to See the Art (and Artists) All Around Us

Last week, on our final night in Sayulita, Mexico, I took dinner by myself as Michelle was under the weather.¹ I went to The Tropical House, a restaurant-and-bar just around the corner from our hotel that I knew would be fairly quick - and I brought a book to keep me company.

(Said book. I waited six months from the time that I purchased this so that my reading of it would coincide with the beginning of spring training :))

Dinner and the book were both great, but I would’ve forgotten this particular moment of food-and-reading entirely if not for a singular question arriving quite unexpectedly:

“What are your favorite colors?”

It was my waitress. A bubbly, middle-age woman who had been chatting with her mother over bluetooth nearly the entire time she was serving. Also, quite kindly, she was the one who had noticed my book when I arrived and had found me the quiet, out-of-the-way outdoor table.

“I always enjoy blue and green,” I said.

And then she walked over to a nearby table, opened a manila folder, and began thumbing through a series of paintings she had done.

“I want you to have one,” she said.

(The Tropical House)

She arrived to a couple options with intricately drawn flowers and said, “Those take a lot of time…” and it was clear what she meant: “Those are not the ones I am giving away.” Quite understandable.

She kept at it and pulled forth a couple that might work.

I could tell it was important to her that I have one so I said, “How about this one? It’s great!” And it was.

“Yes, this would be a very good one! But…” She slowed. “Do you like black?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s just that this one needs some black. I can tell…” she trailed off as she took out a black marker and began quickly, quietly coloring lines.

It was inspiring to watch her gift unfold in real time - each creative decision about where the line should emerge. Each choice about width and curve - her movements natural, confident, and with the kind of speedy-ease.

(The painting - now complete with black lines)

I began to leaf through my pockets realizing I really should pay her something for this. She was fully aware, however, of my subtle motion and said, “No no. This is free. I want this to be a gift.”

“This is my joy…” she continued under her breath, with her hand still drawing, eyes still upon the art. “I love giving my art. It always returns to me seven-fold.”

How? What measurement are we talking about? I wondered. Inner blessing? Actual money? Creative energy?

I never asked. Instead, she went another direction, saying “I don’t know why, but with a lot of my recent pieces I keep ending up with eyes.” Indeed, an eye began to round right into shape as she neared her final lines of black.

She then picked her marker up and said, “I am picking up an energy from you. You are a serious man.”

Serious!? I thought to myself. You mean laid-back-and-on-vacation, right!? Or at least generally happy?!

But then again, I was the guy who showed up with a book to a restaurant-and-bar serving a wide array of drink specials to accompany its ‘night-on-the-town’ vibe.

“You are in the military, maybe,” she said as more a statement than a question.

I didn’t really know what to say. Yes, a long time ago I was.

(Proof)

I went with the current truth. “I’m a pastor.”

Her eyes finally looked up, wide - and even grateful.

“Oh my! Will you say a prayer for me?” And before I could say, “of course” she went on, “Oh but I know you need to get back. I can pray for myself. I do it all the time. But also when you pray can you pray for my mother? She carries so much.”

“Absolutely.” I responded. “I will pray with you. And for you both.”

(The back of the piece.)

And as she handed me the art, I prayed. For her, her art, her mother - each word a brushstroke upon a canvas of gratitude-and-petition, and all of it given a specific hue by way of the names and places about which she had shared briefly in our conversation.

Then one final line: “Amen.”

She then looked right at me and declared, “I can’t believe it. An incognito pastor!”

I smiled, thanked her for the art, and I went back to the hotel. I wished, however, that I had thought to turn and say to her with equal surprise, “An incognito artist!”

Because truly, I was nearly out-the-door having only ever thought of that woman as the bluetooth waitress. But Incognito Gift-Giving, Proverb-Rich Artist? Who knew!?

And isn’t that always the case?

With the person at the restaurant.
The person in the Zoom box.
The person across the playground.
The person across the aisle.
The person across the kitchen table.
And the person reading this piece.

Surprising and predictable,
contradictory and well-aligned,
beautiful and most definitely not finished…

…Art. And Artist.

All of us.

And maybe unlocking that seven-fold blessing of color-and-depth within one another happens by way of one simple pivot: we ask a fresh question. Perhaps along the lines of “what’s your favorite color."²

Or, maybe it’s as simple as remembering that most of us have two, biological eyes…

…and then one more. A Third Eye.

We forget about it sometimes. But it is the eye painted within each of us. And not haphazardly, but quite centrally.

(Note the eye in the upper right hand corner).

It is the spiritual eye:

• The lens through which we see what and who really matter.

• The lens through which we do not simply see, but perceive.

• The lens through which we are given to see the depth and complexity and beauty and truth in all that we encounter.

And if that eye can be even just halfway open, we may discover over an otherwise forgettable meal/errand/day-at-work that we are in the presence of an Incognito Artist-Seer whose gift is drawing forth the incognito art (and artist) within us.

But blessed are your eyes, because they see. And your ears, because they hear. - Matthew 13:16

1. She is happily no longer under the weather :)

2. If you want a list of fun questions to try, check out this post I did a couple months ago. It has a whole list of questions.