It seems the good, the bad, and the unfortunate are in the news, the neighborhood, and our kitchens. I think it’s called life. A recent experience triggered solid emotions and challenged my reasoning.

I’m a bargain hunter, so I like estate sales, especially on Saturdays because anything left is half price. This particular sale had poor signage, and I nearly gave up before I found the house.

Unlike other sales, the managers sat outside on both sides of the front door with their money boxes— shoppers could go inside and browse uninterrupted. I said, “Hello,” made small talk, and stepped through the door into a house still packed—full of art and art supplies. I stood stunned and thought, I’m never going to get out of here.

Dave Pearce was the signature on dozens of safari, western, desert, cowgirls, and Native American colored drawings. All were large and beautiful with intricate detail and vivid colors. Some were framed and hanging, but most were in clear protective sleeves and stacked on tables or leaned against walls.

Usually the last day of a sale, the house is near empty and what is left is not worth wanting. I arrived on the sixth and final day. There were more pencils, paper, cutting tools, and rulers than an art supply store. The garage held three large drawing tables, and I was relieved to see a kitchen with plates and glasses because I was glad the guy took the time to eat.

I heard the sales manager tell someone the artist was in assisted living with Parkinson’s disease. Those words hit me like a colossal injustice mallet.

He continued by saying the artist, his step-dad, before the disease became debilitating, got up every day and drew. He might drive into the desert or go to a rodeo, take pictures, and go home and draw. His prestigious body of work reminded me of Andrew Wyeth, and his art and art supplies left nothing to the imagination—this man lived, daily, his passion and purpose. It was a love story.

To think of him in assisted living with the same creative mind yet the inability to express his talent made me sad. It left me feeling empty.

I challenged the famous quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson, “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Shame on me; I was thinking only of the artist’s loss.

Then, I imagined this talented man, Dave Pearce, sitting alone with no pencils or drawing boards, yet able to mentally duplicate detail, develop shadows, and highlight sun rays, even after his trembling hands had failed him.

Never underestimate the value of developing your gifts and giving your best every day. The benefit of authentic giving and sharing lives beyond loss.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

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