As I’ve shared the narrative for “I Wanted to Ask My Dad”, people ask me, “were there really baby ducklings in a whirlpool and was it your husband who saved them?” The answer to both of those questions is “yes”. Which is why I realized, when I am ready to write a synopsis for my book, I needed to be sure to include that part in the summary. I also realized I needed to include, in both the narration and the synopsis, I had been gifted with a love for creating art, but, as the story reveals, it took God’s hand to bring me back to that gift.
So, here is my first draft for a “dust jacket synopsis”:
In April 2018, Clarence “Pete” Spitz, a lifelong farmer and father of seven, suffered a massive stroke. Preparing for his funeral arrangements, a family member asked his daughter, Kathleen, to create a sketch of Jesus as the Good Shepherd for Pete’s memorial card. Describing herself as mildly agnostic and marginally artistic, Kathleen balked at the suggestion.
Trying to justify why she couldn’t draw the requested portrait, Kathleen realized she never asked her father about his spiritual beliefs. Later that day, Kathleen and her husband, Jonathan, took a walk along a river. Just below a dam, where the water was most turbulent, they saw a mother duck, frantically pacing a ledge. All her newly hatched ducklings were caught in a whirlpool; they were too tiny to escape, and she was helpless to save them. As Jonathan scrambled down the bank and began to help the family of ducks, God gently placed in Kathleen’s heart Who His Son is as well as the inspiration to pick up her pencils to draw. That night, Kathleen sketched a portrait of the Good Shepherd for her Dad’s funeral card. That was also the door through which she went back to her childhood love of creating art.
As Kathleen shared her testimony, she realized everyone has questions they wish they could have or might someday ask their own father. “I Wanted to Ask My Dad” is Kathleen’s story, but it also touches a space God created in each of our hearts: a place of longing for a perfect Father, the One Who in return longs for a relationship with us in which He can love and guide us. And answer every question we bring to Him.
From the beginning, I was, and continue to be, deeply moved by the responses I receive when I share the title for my next book I Wanted to Ask My Dad.
Sharing the title and concept, I learned everyone has questions they wish they would have, or hope to, ask their fathers. As the book took shape, I met with women of all ages to ask them about their relationship with their own fathers.
I was blessed by these women’s willingness to share their stories and their hearts. Some had lost their fathers and, despite having close relationships with their Dads, still had questions they wish they would have asked. One young woman, who’d been adopted by a single woman and never knew a father figure, had poignant questions she would have asked a father, had he been in her life. Some had strained relationships with their fathers for multiple reasons; a long-time friend shared the abuse she’d suffered from her father; more than one woman opened up about how their mothers had reviled their fathers to try to control the daughter and keep her from developing a bond with her Dad. Regardless of their own story, however, they each were able to share questions they would have asked and found that questions others put forth resonated with them as well. Each expressed a longing in the relationship that, for whatever reason, went unfulfilled.
Weaving and sharing my book’s narration, I discovered there is a universally deep place of longing for a father’s guidance and love. There is spiritual truth in this as well: as we long for a relationship with a perfect father who will guide, provide for, and protect us, there is rest when we learn the perfect Father has been with us all along.
At the first book-signing for my first book, The ABC of Mannerly Me, people asked me about my “next book”.
This came as a shock; it had taken nearly two decades to write, illustrate and publish my ABC book, I couldn’t imagine starting another book.
As I continued to hear the “next book” question over the next few years, I formed a handful of ready answers that probably sounded off-putting. Answers like:
Margaret Mitchell only wrote one book.
Or: Why? Was something missing in my first book?
Meanwhile, my husband, Jonathan, also encouraged me to create a book based on my salvation testimony. And, although I love sharing my testimony, I could not fathom how I could present it as a book, so I resisted.
Then about 3 months ago, my daughter-in-law, Katie, asked me the “what’s the next book” question.
Undeterred by my flip answer, Katie responded, “Your thinking you only have one story in you is a lie. God has one book but so many stories. And I think your testimony will help so many people because it already has. I know you love sharing your testimony in person, and you still should, but the book will help you get it out further. Think of the apostles John and Paul: we never even think when reading the Bible, ‘I wish I heard it from their lips in person’. We are so grateful we get to hear it at all, and that’s what your book will do. Now the devil doesn’t want a book like this in the world and he hates when we use our gifts from God and he hates it even more when we use them to glorify God. So when you hit writer’s block or if someone tells you it doesn’t need to happen, know you are doing something good and ask God to show you if you are missing something. BUT DON’T LET IT STOP YOU! Be like Jesus, take a nap and pray.”
That night, I took Katie’s advice and asked God to show me if I should make my testimony into a book. The next morning, as I wrote in my journal, the parallel stories and images of a lost lamb and a lost girl became clear to me. I recalled questions I wish I could have asked my Dad, but for various reasons, the questions went unasked. After putting down these thoughts, I wrote down this title: I Wanted to Ask My Dad.
As closed my journal, I received a text from Katie, again encouraging me to create a book from my testimony. Knowing my favorite coffee blend and knowing a little about my relationship with my Dad, she closed her text with “spend some time with the Father who loves you like a daughter. Make a Bulletproof coffee and go color with your Dad.”
There is no way Katie could have known my book would be centered around the relationship with my Dad. The ideas for that element and the title had come to me only that morning as I wrote in my journal.
That is when I knew God has His hand in this and that I Wanted to Ask My Dad needed to be my next book.
At the first book-signing for my first book, The ABC of Mannerly Me, people asked me about my “next book”. This came as a shock; it had taken nearly two decades to write, illustrate and publish my ABC book, I couldn’t imagine starting another book. As I continued to hear the “next book” question over
God gave me a vehicle that, when driven properly, can be creative and skilled artistically. I can also write a coherent string of sentences most of the time. When I found the lump in December of 2016, my immediate thought was to find out what it was and, if it was bad, then it needed
As you peruse my website, perhaps you will conclude God gifted me with a talent for drawing, painting and sculpting. For years, however, I had a low opinion of my art skills, which is one of the reasons I chose not to go to art school. For most of my life, I also did not
God gave me a vehicle that, when driven properly, can be creative and skilled artistically. I can also write a coherent string of sentences most of the time. When I found the lump in December of 2016, my immediate thought was to find out what it was and, if it was bad, then it needed to get cut out of me as soon as possible. It was like a foreign object that didn’t belong there and just needed to go. When the local hospital told me it was malignant but that I could wait until the new year to schedule the excision surgery, I said, “No, I want it out NOW,” so I scheduled to have a lumpectomy at a nearby surgery center that could fit me into their schedule. Wondering whether that was the correct decision is wasted thought-time and is now just one more step in my journey of discovery. Two oncologists at two different centers told me that due to the type and size of the excised tumor, I’d have to undergo a protocol of powerful chemotherapy and radiation followed by a five-year regimen of another pharmaceutical. Though one oncologist was a male DO and the other was a female MD and they were presiding in two separate facilities run by two separate corporations, the words out of their mouths were nearly identical. I felt like they had this recipe or formula that read “If the tumor is X then C + R + P = our standard course.” They each gave me a 7-page document of the probable side effects of their chemotherapy drug. As an Occupational Therapist, I always thought tacking the word “therapy” onto something that caused so much physiological havoc was offensive. Then Jon asked the DO cancer guy, “Kathleen is an artist; we know neuropathy is a common side effect of this course of treatment. Should she be concerned that she might not be able to do her art anymore?” The DO, saying nothing, dropped his head and did a sort of shake/nod that told Jon and I all we needed to know. My life as an artist was likely going to end.
That was the turning point for me. Why was I trying to “beat” cancer if the “treatment” was going to destroy my nerve endings so that my fingers would tingle all the time, that I would have difficulty grasping paintbrushes or sculpting tools and that I would have decreased awareness in my hands?
I did not know it at the time, but I was beginning to seek God in that moment: Who He is, how He made me and what His will was for me. I’d worked as an OT for 30 years, but still did my art when I could. Chemotherapy would make me too sick to work as an OT, possibly causing me to have to retire early, but if I couldn’t feel a pencil in my hand, the thing that God had put in my heart to do would be destroyed. I was already at a low point in my life emotionally, physically, and spiritually. God had a better way for me, it just took some nudges along the way to find His path and along the way, He reacquainted me with the vehicle He gave me to drive.
As you peruse my website, perhaps you will conclude God gifted me with a talent for drawing, painting and sculpting. For years, however, I had a low opinion of my art skills, which is one of the reasons I chose not to go to art school. For most of my life, I also did not know God.
I was raised in a religious home surrounded by extended family who subscribed to the same directives as those we followed. I learned little about the Word of God, however, because there was more emphasis on memorizing prayers and following traditions than there was in studying the Bible. Maybe some people can pursue this path to know God but to me it was a heavy burden of obligations I thought I had to follow to stay right with God.
As a young adult I fell into a long state of depression; a traumatic divorce, a haze of Godless relationships, mindless distractions, and apathy towards myself and my latent artistic skills brought me to a state of self-loathing and suicidal thoughts. I identified as an atheist or at least an agnostic. I felt like an empty vase on a shelf.
God rekindled my art by bringing my first Newfoundland dog into my life; she was so beautiful, I picked up my pencils for the first time in years and began sketching her; she was so sweet, I trained her as a therapy dog for the special needs children with whom I was working. I did not know it at the time, but as my Newfoundland dogs were healing the children, God was healing me.
Around 1999, God gifted me with the idea for an ABC book of manners featuring my Newfoundland as the storyteller. I immediately began drawing the illuminated letters for the book, but as I worked, I knew at some point I would have to draw people in my illustrations. I did not go to art school, remember? Longer periods elapsed between drawing sessions as I avoided this step. Then a family member asked me to draw a portrait of their spouse. When I finished, I thought the work was a respectable likeness and felt ready to resume my book illustrations, but the recipient of the portrait scorned my effort. My confidence deeply shaken, work on my ABC book ceased. The only drawing I forced myself to do were my annual Christmas cards as I started re-filling my time with endless, self-centered distractions that kept me away from God and my art.
God then sent His servant, Jonathan, who patiently shared the Truth of God’s Word in the Bible and in His created works. I began taking infant steps in pursuing God but did not know what to make of Jesus. Was He God or a great human teacher, killed for claiming to be God?
Several years ago, my parents pre-planned their funerals. For their respective services, they wanted little memorial cards with a religious image on one side and a Scripture on the reverse. My Dad was a wheat farmer; for my Dad’s card, Mom asked me to draw a picture of Jesus finding a lost lamb in a wheat field. I put it off: I did not know Jesus, nor did I have the skill to draw people; how could I possibly draw a portrait of Jesus?
Then, a couple of years ago, my Dad lay dying in the hospital; again my mother asked me about the drawing of Jesus and the lost lamb. Still, I hesitated.
Later that day, Jon and I took a walk along the river. We saw a group of people behind a 4’ chain link fence. They were watching a mother duck, frantically pacing a ledge above where her helpless, tiny babies were caught in a swirling eddy of water. Without hesitation, Jon scaled the fence and began scooping each duckling out of the whirlpool, setting them on the ground to rejoin his mother. As Jon worked, the remaining ducklings became increasingly frightened. The last little duckling was so scared of Jon’s arm, she swam to the outer part of the whirlpool where the swirling water was most dangerous. Risking falling into the river himself, Jon leaned far over the water to bring her to safety. As this last little one hurried to rejoin her family, the Mama duck’s joy was palpable.
In that moment, I was filled with gratitude and joy. I knew I could draw a portrait of Jesus because God blessed me with artistic skills, and, in that moment, He gave me the spiritual reference point for a portrait of Jesus scooping up a lost and frightened lamb. His are the gentle hands that pull me out of my endless, self-imposed, spiritless doing and the swirling distractions of this world. He is God, who wrapped Himself in human flesh and whose life, death, and resurrection set me on the solid ground of my salvation.
I finished my little ABC book and today share it with a heart of glorifying God who gave me the gift of art. This gift is a door to sharing my faith journey with others and theirs with me. I no longer need to immerse myself in an endless whirlpool of artificial distractions or fear; I can rest in His sovereignty and will for me. Like a weary duckling in a swirling vortex or a lost lamb in a wheat field, I have been scooped up by Jesus and I am His.
Kathleen Petitjean | Fine Art 