How a Box of Chalk and an Old Retaining Wall Quite Possibly Saved Me

My chalk art has evolved over the last few days. What started as a way to keep busy, to do a project with my children, and to prevent myself from going further down a rabbit hole of fear, quickly evolved into a beautiful way to connect with neighbors and community—even while social distancing. My journey so far...

Day 1:
Brown circles on a retaining wall. Doesn’t look like much so far. But I have a plan and am hopeful it will turn out. When I texted my friend Kittie what I am planning, and that I do not have nearly enough chalk, she almost immediately heads to Target and gets me three buckets. She needed groceries, and I needed chalk. It was perfect timing. When she stopped by it took everything out of me not to hug her. Which was fine by her, as an introverted non-hugger—but she promises to hug me when this is all over anyway. Chatting with my dear friend in the yard, 6 ft away, felt good. Having a friend bring me chalk, felt like I won the lottery. 

Day2:
My masterpiece. The green circle is a grocery cart, but the wall is wet, so I’ll fix it tomorrow. To my nurses, forgive me, you got a little off center. This is harder than it looks. There’s a good chance I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, that was a lot of deep bending. But I can sleep till 11:00 AM, because I’m on spring break. The people represented here won’t get a break for months. Prayers to all, may we all wrap you in loving kindness. 

Heroes today drive trucks, some sweep the floors at the hospital, some ring up your groceries, some run into burning houses or navigate arguments, some may need to treat your friends and family when they are at their sickest, face to face with coughing and bleeding patients—and all will show up regardless of their fears. 

Day 3:
OMG, guys it’s perfect. OK, maybe not perfect, part of the wall is still wet and needs to dry before it excepts the chalk. But it’s pretty damn close. If I’m being honest, and I usually am, I needed this. I’ve been living full on scorched earth for about a week. Worried beyond compare. Worried we will lose our jobs and lose the house, and worried people I love will lose their lives. Then I put this up, and almost like magic—I believe in JOY again.

Two moms with babies in strollers stopped across the street, at different times, explaining to their children what all the symbols mean. I couldn’t help but cry as they were doing it. A friend from the other side of town drove by to check it out. That made me cry a little, too. I chatted with no less than four neighbors. And total strangers were stopping to take pictures, people were honking their horns. And people stopped to thank me, and tell me it was beautiful. That part made me laugh, but I’m happy to do my part and get a little dirty. It’s literally the least I can do, putting kids chalk on a wall. 

Covid-19 is one part deadly virus, and one part epic emotional roller coaster for the entire world. It is not something we are reading about in a textbook, rather living and experiencing in real time. There is no handbook on how to process this much emotion. And just when I was about to give up, when it all felt like too much, a bucket of chalk changed my perspective, changed my life. 

Why? As I stood there, looking at my house, feeling the love of strangers, I was given a divine reminder of where I get to isolate, and likely shelter in place. I am HOME. 

That little house in the background—my little house, the one I’m afraid we will lose if normal people are left out of the equation—was built in 1908. It has seen its inhabitants through the 1918 Spanish flu, two World Wars and the rations that went along with that, the Holocaust, the sinking of the Titanic, the Great Depression and countless other tragedies, local and all around the globe, that made the front pages of the newspapers delivered to the front porch. 

Then I remembered, in addition to tragedy, there were big wins and headlines celebrated, too. I’m imagining the woman who slept in my house, finally being given the right to vote and wondering if she slept that night, knowing she would be heard for the first time. I imagined a northern family watching Roots, and understanding slavery just a little bit more for the first time, right in my living room. I’m curious if one of the matriarchs was a member of the women’s club in my neighborhood, making bandages for the war—not unlike the crafters now making masks for doctors. And I smile knowing babies were likely born here, safely within these walls. Because women didn’t go to hospitals to give birth in 1908, they welcomed new life within in the comfort of home. This home. Oh, and we bought the house shortly after marriage equality was passed in MN. There has been much survived AND celebrated here. 

It’s hard for me to imagine what all of the souls who lived here before me would think about this virus, or life in 2020 versus the lives they led in 1908, or 1945... But I can almost hear them whispering, “You will be ok.” So with that, I will now believe it to be true. I will be ok. My family will be ok. We will all be ok. 

We can do great things when we believe, and when we look for the helpers. 

Day 4: 
Weather predicts rain. Two neighbors graciously offer tarps to protect the chalk. But after looking at Facebook I see a doctor wanted to drive by. Suddenly it felt like a cover would hide the message, and if they can show up for work in chaos, I can get more chalk. My 8-year-old son agreed to help me re-chalk as often as necessary, so we leave it for the elements. Crossing our fingers that it stays. It will, it has too. 

Day 5:
It rained. So we spruced it up. And Alex insisted on adding yellow to the police badge. He’s the same one who insisted on making the THANK U a rainbow. He’s clearly a future creative director. This will be his art project for school the next few months. And his civics lesson. I’m not a teacher, but I can teach quietly. 

Day 6: 
As I sit in my front yard, people are still slowing down and stopping. I move out of the way when I can if they take photos, but I’m pretty sure I’m in a few Instagram posts. And they often say thank you, which warms my heart, and makes me cry every time. These chalk circles are making people smile. Our little chalk project was shared by a city council woman, and someone submitted a picture to a local TV station, who put it on their Facebook page as the cover photo. I think it resonates because we all feel connected, and want to thank those on the front lines. My husband thinks it’s a bright reminder of possibility at a exceptionally dark time, when even our yards are still brown and the flowers have yet to show us signs of life. Either way, connection or color—this has proven to be my greatest creative accomplishment. Chalk on damp wood, in a time of panic. 

I’m beginning to think I will create yard signs. Maybe sell them and charge a few extra bucks to donate to food shelves and school lunch funds, so at risk kids can eat? Then ask everyone who buys one to pledge to invest in a small business or nonprofit. Buy a gift certificate, plan a trip, just promise to support those who are struggling. To keep things moving in a positive direction for as many of us a possible. 

This rainbow colored chalk was exactly what I needed. What my family needed. And it is my great honor to keep it up as long as this continues. My hope is we never forget the time the helpers showed up. May we always remember the time our grocery clerks, mail and delivery carriers, janitors, truck drivers, teachers and child care providers stood next to our doctors, nurses, and medical employees at every level, I see you janitors, cafeteria workers, admins, support staff...and saved us. Gave us hope. Risking their lives for others and shining a light on humanity.

Blessings to all.


Heather Heier Lane is a mom of two future creatives, an empath who was drowning in collective stress until she was brought back to the surface by chalk, and a lifelong believer in kindness. May this little rainbow connect us all. The helpers are everywhere! Thank them, then thank them again...


Six circles to get things started.

Getting there, slowly. The grocery cart needs to dry before it willa accept chalk. I can wait.

Leave it to my 8-year-old to add a rainbow. It’s pretty close to perfect!

So now he added the yellow to the shield, clearly my boy has a vision. It is our promise to keep this up, regardless of weather. Rain will not deter us. Blessings to all.