In loving memory of Irene Regina O’Meara Jansen,
my maternal grandmother and godmother
At home, on the day before Christmas, when I usually decorated, I opened a
box of Christmas ornaments and such, and found the previous year’s greeting
cards that were received. They were tied together in the usual stash “look” kept
each year in case I wanted to cut them up the next year and make gift tags and
such. I first thought, “Toss”; but then, even though I had enough gift tags at
that moment, I felt it right to placed them on the buffet and look at them
later. I turned to deck the halls, without one thought of the heavy question
to bother me.
The Prior Semester
It all started in the prior semester. I completed stained glass designs
for a final project in my Two-Dimensional Design class. The project came from a
church in Lincoln, the State Capital.
Members of the church wanted stained glass installed in eight rectangular
windows, four on each side of the altar, in memory of a recently-departed family
member. The church project committee sent information to the university in
search of a student interested in creating designs for the 110-total-square foot
stained glass memorial; and, if accepted, the designs would be given to a
commercial company for construction.
The thought of designing stained glass was interesting, but I never tried it.
Then I reasoned, “It’s straight-forward pencil drawing, and it’s a golden
opportunity to learn stained glass design. What could possibly go wrong?” So I
went for it, and got it.
Minutes after the professor gave me the project information, I was reading
it. The name of the church was Good Shepherd, and naturally, the 23rd Psalm came
to mind. I hurried home, took out the sturdy 5-by-9 cardboard mock ups from my
project envelope, and began an adventure in drawing on them that would end up
taking nearly every day of the semester to complete, and with weekly project
critique from the professor.
The 23rd Pslam
I decided to design for the copper foil method, or “Tiffany-style”, because
the 23rd Psalm brought images of pastures and water and a path, designed in
smaller pieces of glass.
Green pastures went on the mock up panel that matched the actual panel to
the immediate left of the altar, and from the horizon down, small, red oval
drawings were placed here and there in the pasture to represent the good
fruit.
Gently flowing aqua-blue water went on the other mock up that matched the
real panel immediately right of the alter, also from the horizon down. In the
top half of pasture panel, blue skies with wispy-clouds went in. In the
equivalent space on the water panel, in a huge semi-circle sun, across the top
of the panel made it in.
Across the foregrounds, and horizontally, a grassy high point overlooks the
pastures and water, creating panoramic views. I threw a handful of reeds in the
water panel near the edge of the overlook, and an equal number of saplings in
the pasture panel near the edge of that overlook.
Each end panel, from the horizon up, was left in white, to distinguish,
symbolically, past and future time periods in contrast to the “eternal now”
feeling in the pasture and water panels. The white expressed the feeling of
solid cloud cover, the strong contrast desired. Far-off on the horizon,
mountains went in all but the water panel, as well as wind-swept sands of time,
with increasing sands flowing in from the far left horizon line in the left
panel, and the sands receding towards the far right horizon line in the final
panel. This design theme was a symbolic expression of the Alpha and the Omega
(the Beginning and the End).
Pleased, Then Not Pleased
I was very pleased with my design when “my completion” day came around in
mid November. I felt satisfied that I had what it takes. My next meeting with
the professor was schedule three days from then. I placed the mock ups in the
desk drawer, looking forward to using the freed up time for Thanksgiving
preparations
The morning of the meeting, I got the designs from my desk drawer just 30
minutes before the meeting. I looked at them, and was horrified! I thought, “How
can abundant, green pastures, sun-kissed water, distant mountains, endless sky,
panorama views and the sands of time look like a land that time forgot?”
I had to come to grips immediately with the need to look at them again. I
had to leave for the meeting in the art building, and I only had around five
minutes to figure out why the design felt empty, or I would have to ask the
professor if he thinks something missing. Nothing came to me. I left for the art
building .
The professor liked how the design had progressed. I was relieved. I
figured it was all me. But just the same, I asked him if he thought it looked
abandoned. He said, “That’s because it’s a simple landscape” and added “You can
still add on if you want.”
I couldn’t completely shake off the feeling. This usually meant, it’s time
to pay attention. With each passing week, I grew more dissatisfied; but not
because I wanted my designs chosen, although it would’ve been encouraging, at
that point, to know the decision-makers liked minimal concepts in art. But even
the design’s acceptance wouldn’t changed the problem I saw. And it didn’t help
that I felt I hadn’t lived up to the best I could do.
Percival and the Holy Grail
A couple of weeks before the end of the semester, as I was browsing around the
public library in the fiction shelves, hoping to God I could dig up ideas for
spin-offs that might help fill in the gaps, I spotted the legend of Percival, of
King Arthur’s Round Table, and this youngest knight’s legendary quest for the
Holy Grail, and checked it out.
Reading this adventure of the lost chalice, or cup, of the Last Supper that
Percival ‘discovered’, and that consequently brought the kingdom back to life
from severe drought, garnered a wealth of pertinent symbolic ideas, not the
least of which was the dogged perseverance of Percival that was needed to fill
in my own ‘gaps’. I couldn’t thank God enough directing my eyes toward that book
and for giving me the strong inclination to take it home.
After reading it from cover-to-cover, I returned to the mock ups, and in
the right portion of the water panel, I envisioned four mountains, representing
the stages of life, and receding to the horizon, with a journeying path extended
over the visible surfaces of the mountains, all the way to the fourth one. I was
back to drawing again with renewed hope and lots more trust in God.
The image of a chalice and its stem, was drawn in the last mountain of
life, charcoal in color, and the stem symbolized “the narrow gate”. Next, I drew
in a white semi-circle centered over the chalice, like the Eucharist held over
the Chalice, and the white piece ‘casting’ light through a “ narrow gate” and
through the chalice cup. It was just what that panel needed. But, the pasture
panel looked even more empty in comparison.
While out and about the next day, I envisioned a few buildings, like
houses, in the pasture. As soon as I returned home, I drew them in. It reminded
me of Bethlehem, so I drew the Star above the town and streaming light down on
the houses. With this addition, I thought the roofs of the houses should be
‘tiled’ to give the roof tops sparkle in ‘response’ to the Star’s light.
The Tree and the Apostles
The next day, I looked at the mock ups of the two panels on either side of
the altar, or the center, and they didn’t feel connected. I took a break for a
day in the hope that something would come to me; but when I returned to it,
nothing struck me at first. But then, my eyes fell on the reeds and I looked
over at the saplings, and I knew what was needed to connect those panels: a
tree.
I penciled in a uniformly-designed tree, each side with it’s own leanings,
in each panel on the right edge of the pasture panel, and also on the left edge
of the water panel, and then, I drew six leaves on one side, and six on the
other, symbolizing the Apostles. I thought I had it finished, but I was off on
that again.
The next day, while looking at the mock ups, I envisioned a small circular
crystal in the middle of the Star and, I realized that the stem of the chalice
could be fitted with a blunt-top A-shaped crystal, accentuating “the narrow
gate”. I wondered if the crystals would cast rainbows on objects in the church
sanctuary. I thought for a moment, and remembered that the windows faced west,
and the late afternoon sun would come through the crystals, throwing rainbows. I
knew the crystals would make the project; so I scribbled a spec page.
How Could I Forget the Wine?
At our next weekly meeting, the professor pointed to the cup of the chalice
that was filled with part of the white semi-circle and said, “I doubt you’ll get
that shape cut out; but if you do, it’ll break.” I was devastated! I could see
he was right! I’d have to cut that piece up. It was back to the drawing board,
literally. I racked my brain with no luck, and decided to trust in God, a stance
that had worked miracles up to that point; and I wondered how God was going to
solve this one.
I had to go to the store and needed to quickly wash my hair, so I used the
bathroom sink. At the end of rinsing, in my mind a multi-red color thin stream of
light came whirling down from the right side of my mind and into a chalice cup.
It was the wine. How could I forget wine?! I quickly wrapped my hair in a
towel, got the water panel out, and put the flowing wine in it, starting from
the right side of the water panel, through the blazing sun, and into the chalice
cup. That broke up the problem piece. It looked stunning; better than anything I
could have come up with, as the power of the Holy Spirit always does.
Then I looked at the pasture panel; then back to the wine, and there was a
slight imbalance. After a minute or so, I figured, what’s good for one panel is
good for the other; so I drew in a very similar design, in white on the pasture
panel, coming from the left, then tucked it in behind the Star.
An “A” Grade All Around
I ended up turning the project in very close to the wire. The professor
handed them back to me the next day. I got the highest grade he gives; an A, and
I was relieved to have it over with.
Within a day or so, the professor called me into his office. The church
wanted my designs! I was flabbergasted! I nearly jumped up and down for joy! The
bad news was, they had taken the designs to three commercial companies for the
construction and the cost estimates were sky high. The profession said that a
gentleman in the second company, asked the family members where they got the
mock ups, because he had never seen such quality designs. With that said, the
professor wanted to know if I’d do the construction as an independent study. I
couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A lump formed in my throat.
The professor talked on and on, telling me the church would provide a large
construction table and a light table, and, of course, the glass, equipment,
supplies, and anything I could possibly need, and I would get to keep it all.
And since the professor knew that the house I was in was similar to his, he pointed
out that the dry, full, unfinished basement would enable me to work at home. He
added, the independent study carries 6 credit hours, twice the regular amount. I
thought, “What more could I want, except hands-on experience in a medium
involving 110-square feet of glass cutting.”
I told him I didn’t think I should do it. He stood up, walked to the office
door, asking me to follow him. We entered a room with a large art table. From a
shelf he took a glass cutter and glass pliers. On the table was a piece of window
glass, about two-foot- by-two foot in size..
He cut the glass down the middle, took the pliers, and popped it in half. It
looked so easy. He asked me if I wanted to try it. I did, and when the score on
the glass popped perfectly, I was surprised. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. But,
I still wasn’t sure.
There was more to it. I didn’t want to start something I wouldn’t be able
to finish. and I would be under a deadline contract. I shared my concerns. The
professor said, if I ran into a couple of rough spots, he would help. I thought
that was a decent enough safety net, but I still wasn’t sure. I told him that I
felt bad about the church not having the memorial because I’m the one saying no
to it.
He suggested that I think about it during the rest of the break and get
back with him before the start of the Spring Semester, which was closing in
fast. As I was about to leave, he said, “By the way, did you know the stained
glass windows memorial is for a deceased church member?” I nodded. “And”, he
added, “who accidentally drown this past Mother’s Day?” I admitted I hadn’t
known that. Then he said, “And the family members are sold on the water panel.”
I thought, “What a bizarre coincidence!”.
On that note, I returned home and, as mentioned at the beginning of this
saga, I spent a number of days mulling it over whether or not I should go ahead,
but nothing gave me the badly needed green light. I decided to trust God to let
me know, and I let it go.
The Last Card
I finished decking the halls, put the empty decoration boxes away, got a
cup of coffee, grabbed the stash of last year’s Christmas cards off of the
buffet, and sat down at my desk.. I began separating out the ones that would
make the best gift tags. Near the bottom of the pile was a card, face down. I
noticed the penciled date I put on all cards before I put them away in one of
the boxes. It was sent the Christmas before. I turned it over. On the front was
a graphic of Mary and the Child surrounded in red, green and gold “stained
glass”. I thought, “So much for not thinking about it.”
I opened it. The greeting said, “Glory surrounding Mother and Son; Glory
surrounding everyone”, and at the bottom was Grandma’s signature. I realized I
was holding her last Christmas Card to me because she died early in the
year.
Tears started welling up as I looked again at the front of the card. I
wondered if Grandma was somehow involved in this. I would have laughed if I
hadn't started in with full water works. I cried and cried and at last cried
out, “Looks like it’s the Holy Spirit, you and me, Grandma!”
Epilogue
The next day I called the professor and told him I’d do the construction.
He asked what did it take. I told him. He wasn't surprised. The construction was
completed in under 6 months, and the stained glass was installed a month later.
Everything went smoothly, and I don’t wonder why. Grandma’s card is in a glass
frame, on a wall in my home where it reminds daily of the unbeatable power of
the Holy Spirit. And although I publicly entitled windows “The 23rd Psalm”,
privately, they belong to Grandma.
Tina Irene Williams
From ©WilliamsScript, the author's private collection of writings.Copyright © Tina Irene Williams 2014 All Rights Reserved.
No part of this document may be reproduced without Tina Irene Williams' written consent.
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