Truth

 It came to me suddenly. a thought - or rather, a truth.
You run from pain.
A natural inclination - hardly profound. who doesn’t run from pain?
And yet - it presses at me.
Where does your mind go when you start to feel your eyes prickle?
What do you do when you turn the page and there is the loss staring you in the face?
Do you dig deeper?
Do you let it close?
No.
You run.
And your go-to, in a matter of seconds, is a digital escape route. Instagram. Facebook. Etsy. A mirage of images. A world of distractions. You dip a toe in.
I’ll just take a look.
And as the minutes trickle on, the pain is buried. Deep enough that the emotion is silenced.
But it lies in wait.
It’s still there.
And it shows up in the most unlikeliest of places…. a sentimental commercial, a Disney film, a song that plucks at just the right chords of your heart in a given moment, a passing photograph of a moment in the past.
And suddenly you’re choking back tears, startled.
Why does this matter? Why am I upset? What’s wrong with me?
You’re caught between wanting to let it spill over and trying to hold it all back.
It’s a wrestling match of your head versus your heart.
I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to do ________, _________ , __________.
You stuff it back under, you bury it deeper. You take a quick fix distraction over an in depth heart assessment.
Who’s got time for that anyways? I’ve got a million things to do.
How did I become this person whose every moment is accounted for, who seems propelled continually forward to chase ambitions that she can never quite catch?
Who has all these plans and ideas that get lost or buried in the wake of her social media addiction?
Who makes goals and a year later, realizes she hasn’t even come close?
Who makes promises to herself that she frequently breaks?
I’m present. I’m grateful. I’m focused. I’m driven. I’m thankful. I love. I listen. I create.
And yet…
What?
When did you stop letting yourself be sad?
When did you start telling yourself that doing was more important than feeling - unless it was someone else’s feelings that needed airing?
When was the last time you ugly-cried - the kind where it feels like a dam has broken loose and you’re a runny, red streaked mess at the end of it all?
When did you last write about it? Sing about it?
Deal with it?
It’s been too long.

Stop running.

My Grandpa

 Hard to believe it’s been a whole year and we still haven’t been able to hold a funeral for my Grandpa. With all the difficulties of travel restrictions and getting to and from England, it’s had to be postponed.

The last time I saw him, I said my goodbye on a video call just a few days before April 5, 2020. He was in the hospital and we knew he didn’t have long. My aunt miraculously was able to be with him and managed to set up a video call for all of us grandchildren (and my mum) to say our goodbyes. I wrote my words on a notepad in big black letters. I told him I missed him and that I loved him, and wrote down some poetry that he had always loved.

He was deaf, you see, and so writing had always been the best way to communicate....

.....We left England when I was 6 years old but my parents did our best to visit when we could. Growing up we always kept in touch, sometimes through TTY but mostly through emails. When we visited, we would sit in his little living room and have a chat. As little girl, I learned the alphabet in British sign language and much to his delight, I would try spell out words to have a conversation with him. Between that, his lip reading abilities, and the handy notepad and pen - we were able to communicate. 

He always loved treating those he loved. When we would visit, as children, and teenagers, and even as adults, he would always slip some money into our hands, urging us to, “Go get yourself something from the sweet shop.” He was always so very generous and kind and wanted all of us to feel special and treated. He would take us out to lunch or for dessert and coffee some place. He was a lover of food, and as such, loved to treat others in that way too.

Whenever we went to visit him, we would draw up a chair across from him, and he would hand over a pen and notepad, and with smiles and pauses, we would have a conversation. He had a big booming voice that filled up the room, and he was such an expressive warm character.

When I was in high school, I reached out to him and asked if he would tell me about his life, and his meticulous memory and attention to detail led to some amazing stories from the time he was born, all the way up to leaving Africa and coming back to England. I kept the letters printed, in a blue folder, through our move from South Carolina, USA, to Ontario, Canada. Somehow it survived the move and many years later, in 2012, I made the letters into a book, which was presented to him as a gift on his 89th (I think) birthday. He was overjoyed to receive it and it has been such a lovely keepsake to have and share with family and those who knew him, over the years. Now it holds even more value, with his absence.

Some favourite quotes from the book:

“We children used to love to stand on one side when a train was approaching and allow ourselves to be enveloped in billowing white steam/smoke. Then we would immediately dash to the other side to get ‘steamed up’ again!”

“The girl I sat next to was called Muriel Thompson, and we ‘sealed’ our friendship with the exchange of a little glass pig for a piece of chocolate.”

“It was a time of pea soup fogs when a car couldn’t see the road in front of it. A driver would pay me a penny to walk in front of the car holding a white handkerchief.”

“One day on the way home I was showing off to a friend how I swing the basket of egg above my head, but then I hesitated at the wrong moment, so there was scrambled raw eggs all over the pavement!”

“I remember once we got hold of an old umbrella and tried parachuting off the roof! Why we didn’t break a leg I can’t imagine!”

(Talking about playing pranks on a school teacher) “Things like sprinkling sneezing powder on the piano keys, or putting a frog under the piano cover before he lifted it.”

“There was a ‘buzz’ in the college that all the prettiest girls were to be found in Nottingham or in Leicester. So - naturally - we young men applied in droves for teaching posts in those two cities.”

(Talking about my mum) “Jane was a little monkey and wouldn’t stay in her bedroom... She used to get very cross when I ordered her back to bed!” (I can relate as a mum now of two boys who pull the same thing.)

............

I made a little video of him many years ago. How precious it is in particular, now, to hear his voice and see him opening the door and welcoming us in. Hard to believe that the next time I visit England, there will be another family living in his home. Watching this video, makes his absence from this world feel so surreal.

When I made this video, the song by Joshua Radin felt so fitting. Grandpa really was such a wonderful kind soul and a friend to many. Even though we moved away, I also felt like he was a Grandpa who really worked hard to pursue a relationship with all of us grandkids and that meant a lot to me. It was twice as hard for him with his deafness, but he always show great pleasure at any opportunity to connect.

I was thinking this past weekend about how he had expressed in his last days his eagerness to get to heaven and see Jesus. I got quite teary thinking about how he would have closed his eyes for the last time, his hand held tightly by my aunt, his body weak with pain, and opened his eyes again to Jesus’ embrace, and the sounds of heaven. What an incredible transformation to have been deaf one minute, and fully whole the next, redeemed and home at last, in the place we were created to be.

I just felt so thankful and so happy for him. I miss him. I miss his emails, and his booming voice, he ever-kind words of encouragement. But I’m happy for him, that he’s no longer in pain, and he’s in a place that overflows with wonder and peace now.

I hope there’s a chance this year for a funeral to happen. I hope for the chance to gather with family and properly mourn him, however that’s possible for our family from all corners of the world. But until then, I hold him in these memories.

I love you Grandpa.

https://vimeo.com/145687245

A Reflection on Pa Bill & what he meant to me.

Written July 16, 2020 (& added to January 2021).  A Reflection on Pa Bill & what he meant to me.

Pa Bill, for me, was such a wonderful, loving person. His cheeky smile, and sometimes borderline inappropriate humour, was contagious and endearing, only surpassed by his genuine love and appreciation for his lovely wife, step-daughters, and all of us grandchildren. 

Anyone that knows me - knows that a big part of my heart resides at Yew Tree Farm, in England. It's my home away from home - a piece of my life that has remained a consistent buoy in the ebb and flow of the places we've moved to and the various life changes that have come about. 

It has been in Pa Bill's family for 3 generations and every part of that property reflects the love and care that has been poured into it by Pa Bill and Grandma.

Pa Bill & Grandma

Farm life (pic taken 2011)

 

It is a canvas of childhood memories that over the years has been somehow, kept intact, despite the wear and tear of life. Things of a simple nature were made special - turned into traditions by Pa Bill. 

Waking up and the realization hitting of where we were, climbing up on the wide framed windowsill to peer out into the back garden and day dream about all the adventures we were going to have that day. 

Coming down to breakfast in the morning, feeling the cold carpet on our bare feet and then joining Pa Bill at the table for some cereal, toast and perhaps a hard-boiled egg. 

Isaiah & Pa Bill enjoying a nice breakfast together (2018)

As children, holding on tight to the metal gate, as it swung out, bumping and jarring, inciting squeals of joy from the riders determined to hang on at all costs. 

The barn - a place of intrigue and mystery. Mere hay bales became secret forts, tunnels, and children would emerge from it at the end of the day, coated in strands of yellow, chattering away about the next adventure.

Micah exploring the barn in 2017

The garden - a magical place that always felt as though it held the key to Fairyland. As a little girl, we would play at the old well, pumping the iron handle and gleefully squealing at the water that rushed out down through the metal wire netting that covered the top to keep small children from falling in. 

Playing with my sister Sarah at the well

Flowers were hardly contained and ran as wild as we children did in our little wellie boots, down the pebbled pathways, playing hide and seek and sometimes a game called lurky (not actually sure how to spell it). I remember when I was really little, there were little cars that we would “drive” down the pathways, using our feet to propel us along. 

Laura & I - on our own little adventure

Micah in 2017 experiencing pure joy at exploring

The old iron swing was a favored spot, with little benches and a rope that hung down on each side to pull on to start it swinging. We would squeeze into the seats alongside our cousins and get ready for a ride. An older child would stand on the outer edge, using a boot to push off the ground and start the momentum. It was just as much fun to hang off the back, our small hands gripping the iron stubs that stuck out on either side of the bench backing. As the swing would lift up in the air it caught you up with it, and then drop you back down. I can still remember how it felt, coming back down and your feet flattening out on the ground, only to lift up again into the air with a squeal of delight. It feel like the closest thing to flying as a child. 

My cousin Laura & I 

Micah trying out the rope (2017)

My favourite memory - a midnight feast with our cousins, where the childlike belief of keeping it secret from our parents, in hindsight, was seemingly impossible with the shrieks of delight, laughter, and the occasional "oomph" from a child landing on a pile of hay, that surely echoed through the barn rafters that night. 

When news of a possible dump box ride rang out (no matter our ages), shouts of excitement were echoed around the property. Pa Bill would grab his worn tweed cap, a jacket,  and go and fetch the tractor. Once everyone had donned wellie boots, and looks of anticipation, we would pile into the "dump box" a square metal box that was open at the back - our small hands tightening our grips, as we were determined not to fall out. Pa Bill would take us on his usual route, down the well worn lane, past the a sprinkling of neighbouring farms. A dog would usually appear, barking madly, and unconsciously, we would shift as one, closer to the inside of the box, as if the dog would suddenly leap up and into our laps. It would stop at the edge of its master's property, bound by an invisible force and its barks would fade into the distance as we continued onward. 

Naomi, Sarah & I going for a dump box ride as children (I was prob pre-teen here)

The tractor would bump down into the part of the lane that was always partially submerged in rainwater, and as the dump box lurched from side to side, everyone would cling to the nearest sturdy surface - the box edge, someone's hand, or shoulder. The water splashed up around our boots and although Pa Bill's back was always to us, I imagine he was grinning at the little excited cries of joy. 

We would reach the gate, and someone - usually the oldest one in the group - would get out and swing open the gate for Pa Bill to drive through. Once safely in the field, the gate closed, and everyone back in the box, Pa Bill would floor the tractor up the hill. He liked to drive near the edge of the field, which as a child, and even a easily scared adult, often felt like at any moment we might drop off the cliff, and tumble down, tractor and all. But Pa Bill seemed to know every dip in his fields like the back of his hand, and though the dump box swung wildly, he was in control - completely in his element.

His favourite thing to do during these rides was lift the dump box up in the air, only to suddenly drop it down. Everyone would scream suddenly at the rush of wind, and sudden jolt, and then laugh in relieved tones at our abrupt silliness. Pa Bill would be partially turned around at this point, watching our reaction, and his mischievous smile and the twinkle in his eye let you know he was having just as much fun as we were. 

Micah having his first dump box ride (2017)

Often he took us down to the river - a much more peaceful adventure - with the exception of the beginning, where we had to cross the road. This area of the countryside has winding roads that twist very abruptly at sudden corners - one of which bordered the outside of Yew Tree Farm's wall. Many a heavy-footed driver had left their mark there - in the rock wall that was noticeable missing a number of stones each year. Pa Bill had put a large round mirror on the wall, to help someone pulling out onto the road to be able to best judge when was the safest chance to enter. As children - of course we knew nothing of this. But the inevitable awareness that comes with age caused me to routinely hold my breath as we crossed the road to the other field, one tractor, one dump box, and a pile of people hanging on. 

Once across, we could breathe easier,  and settle into the natural bumping along as the tractor rolled its way down the field, towards the river. The cows often followed in our wake, curious about this strange mash of small people in the box that was supposed to contain something edible. They would draw close, only to startle and jump back at the slightest indication of movement in their direction. But curiousity often got the best of them and despite their equally large fear instinct, it compelled them to stay close. 

The sheep were the same, if not a bit more nervous, unless it came to Pa Bill. I have a memory of Pa Bill and Grandma sitting on the edge of the hillside, and an insistent sheep nudging his head against Pa Bill's back in search of food. Pa Bill grunted and waved him away but I thought it quite special - how comfortable the sheep are with the shepherd. In spite of their innate ability to do everything but what they are supposed to - they know the shepherd, his voice and his intention for them, and they are safe within that knowledge. 

And of course, the old Austin. I'll never forget Pa Bill's excitement when Jay got it working after it being dormant in the barn for the past seven years. He took it out on the road for a spin, and as we flew along the neighbouring village road, tooted the hand-held horn at anyone we saw. One time when Jay and I were in it, it ran out of gas on a particularly sharp corner, and Pa Bill had to come and rescue us with his tractor. 

2014 - A special photo shoot

A lot of these memories revolved around something tasty. Sandwiches in the field watching the farmers at hay time. Chocolates being brought out around the fireplace, in the small sitting room that held the warmth of firelight and laughter in the evening. Tea in the garden with some sort of cake that Grandma had specially made, along with her favoured elderflower cordial. Sneaking marzipan or icing sugar from a cake in the pantry, when Grandma wasn't looking. Breakfast of cereal, toast, jam, and hardboiled eggs, each morning in a room filled with trinkets and family photos. Tucking into Grandma's traditional apple and raspberry crumble with cream or icecream.  Scones and clotted cream (the real kind) and jam. So many tasty treats, so many good memories. 

In the front of the farm are a row of seats, assembled from old tractor parts. Pa Bill would often sit out on these or the front bench, cigarette in hand, completely content. Though my nose couldn't help but wrinkle at the smell, there was a pocket of peacefulness he carried with him in these moments, that always invited you in, drew you near, to hear what he might say next, and just be present in the moment with him. 

Over the years, with the distance that came from our family's move to the states and then to Canada, every visit to the farm became an attempt for me to somehow freeze in time the beauty and timelessness of this place and the beautiful people who make it so special. I took a lifetime of photos, made short films, always trying to touch the presence of this place from afar.  I even had the chance to have my maternity photos there where I was pregnant with Micah - which was so special to share with Pa Bill and Grandma. That's where the perfectly captured mischievous photo of Pa Bill came from (first pic).

One of my biggest dreams of sharing these memories and traditions with our boys came true when we visited with them in 2017, and then again in 2018. I have photos and videos of the boys from those two special trips swinging on the gate, riding in the dump box, climbing in the hay loft, eating tasty treats in the garden, and playing hide and seek and all matter of games all over the farm. I remember when Pa Bill's amusement at their interest in his remote controlled chair gave way to a bit of alarm as he began to tip further and further back - a remote setting he had not thought to attempt on his own. 

I never quite knew if each visit would be our last and so every visit was filled with creating intentional wonderful moments that we chose to be aware of and not take for granted. It's the closest experience to what I imagine a time machine or time capsule embodies.

I feel there's much more to process about losing Pa Bill - and the undeniable impact it has on me and my life. I can't quite go there just yet. Though I know he's gone, it just hasn't sunk in. And I don't know, honestly, if it will until my next trip to England. For now, writing down the wonderful memories he's been a part of, is my way of feeling connected to him, for being as present as possible with what's happening there now, in the aftermath, and the sadness, and the grief. I'm so very thankful he stole my Grandma's heart all those years ago, and became such an integral part of our family. xo

A poem I wrote about my favourite place in the world - when I was young.

Thank you God.

Hey God.

Thanks for meeting me on the couch five minutes ago. Thanks for patiently waiting the whole day for me to come to you for what I really needed. Validation. Affirmation. A reminder that You've got my back.

I put you off until the last minute today. I tried really really hard to distract myself from how I'm feeling. I called some people I really care about and talked up a storm. I played with the boys. I did house stuff. I spent the afternoon working on a humpback whale design. I watched American Idol and cried when peoples' dreams came true.

And then finally, at the end of the night, I admitted to myself that it had been a day of feeling unfulfilled.

Brief in between moments with the boys gave way to putting the tv on, sending them to play outside, or do their own thing --because I simply didn't have the energy or desire to be full on today. It was a day of feeling frustrated and if I'm honest with myself - a bit of anxiety about the change that comes with tomorrow. But I didn't want to think about it, so I just focused on shallow distractions. I defintiely felt you nudging me today -

"Come spend time with me."
"Put that away."
"I've got what you need."

But ya know, I just--really wanted to do what I wanted to do.
So, finally at the end of the night I drew my feet up on the couch, grabbed my Psalm 23 study book, and opened the first chapter to read over old notes.

Verse 1 read "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want."

Phew. It was like this relief washed over me. Relief tinged with a grimace. Man. I have spent the day wanting everything and being satisfied by nothing. Even my beautiful boys - just about drove me up the wall today. And I don't think it was all on them. I know when I'm distracted, and not present with them, they work twice as hard to get my attention, not always in the best ways.

Oh boy...God.. I want...YOU. I just --need YOU. Your presence and your peace and your reminder that it's ok to talk about what's bothering me and just get it out.

I was reminded from this study book that You are..

..my portion (Psalm 16:5)
...my rock, fortress, shield, strength (Psalm 18:2)
...my light, salvation, stronghold (Psalm 27:1)
...my helper (Psalm 118:7)
...my refuge (Psalm 91:9)

God you are everything that I need and I just sooo needed that reminder.

Tomorrow represents a big change for me, for our family, for our time and it's something I'm really looking forward to. But I know there will be challenges and I guess, I was just kinda avoiding talking about it because I didn't want to acknowledge the loss that comes along with it.
I won't be with Isaiah all day long.
I won't be the one that puts him down for his afternoon nap and prays with him and gets him up and gets to snuggle him in that in-between sleep stage.
Other people are going to be speaking into his life and impacting his little personality, more than me now.
I won't be sitting waiting for Micah to get home from school so that we can have our "Micah and mommy time."
Only on Mondays as of tomorrow.

And that feels scary. Not scary because I don't trust the people I'm leaving them with, but just scary that I have opened this door and where is it going to lead?
But I remembered when I was talking to You about this tonight,  that this whole process has been guided by You and you walk ahead of me, and with me, and behind me.

I see it so clearly in how You've made a way for me to be able to walk Micah to school everyday, and the hours and the flexibility. I really couldn't have conjured up a better opportunity than what this is. I feel like it was tailor-made for me.  So thank you. For caring and making this possible.

I trust You and I'm so incredibly grateful that I've been able to be a stay-at-home mom for the past 6 years. It's wild to think of the different opportunities that have allowed that. And yet, I'm just really craving to have some mental space, to do a job where I can give it my best and then come home and my time is my own and it doesn't bleed into time with the boys or Jay, or time for myself. I'm really looking forward to coming back into our home with a fresh energy.

I'm not naiive. I know it's gonna be busier and there's going to be different levels of stress but I think as long as I remember to prioritize time with You first each day, You'll give me what I need for the boys, for Jay, for my work, for me. When I'm tired or overwhelmed or stressed, You are faithful and patient and loving and grace-filled and I can just take what You give me and share it with whoever is part of my day.

So thank you for tonight and what you taught me and gave me.
I read this verse after I spent time in the study book and it felt so perfect for my role as a mom. No matter how hard it is being a patient, understanding, loving grace-filled parent, it is not for nothing and not in vain because it means everything to our boys just the way You mean everything to me.

Here's to a harvest of people who know that they are loved exactly as they are, and that You care so deeply about them and their struggles, their victories and failures and that they matter.
God I pray you help me be the kind of mom/wife/person who points people to You. What you have to give us can't be copied, or made up, or reenacted - it is purely what You created us to experience.

*Like You Love Us

God...somewhere along the way I lost sight of the vision for this blog.
It was never meant to be about writing for other people.
It was a conversation between You and me. A way of making sense of, and sharing back with You the profound impact You have on my life. Sorry for losing sight of that.

Let's get back to us.

....................
Today when I woke up, I opened my Bible app and the verse of the day was, "My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you." John 15:12.

When I read it, I prayed, "God, help me love the boys today with that kind of love."

....And then M woke up. And every single thing that came out of his mouth was accompanied by a whiny tone. Why does that tone make me feel so quick to be annoyed? In the moment when it happened, I thought - woah God - is this how I act towards you? And You said - yup.

M was annoyed because he was tired, and he didn't want the hallway light on. He didn't want to get dressed, or get up for school.  I tried to sound comforting God, but my voice was undeniably sharp. I know I was edgy. I didn't want to cater to M's bad attitude. We had limited time to get ready because I had let him sleep in a little. I was super annoyed by his push back.

But God you reminded me. 
This is exactly the kind of love that you give. It's patient. And it's understanding. And it goes above and beyond what we need.

I didn't want to help M put his clothes on, especially when his 3 year old brother got up quickly without complaining, got dressed, and was cheerfully talking about the day.

But God you reminded me.
Love doesn't make comparisons. You reminded me that M had a late night, and an early start and a full week of school  - and that fact was he was just plain overtired.

You reminded me of that Growth mindset quote I saw on Instagram about how as parents, we need to be our kids' calm.

So I figured, my fastest route to calm is putting worship music on, so I put on Lauren Daigle's "Love Like This."
Isa. had a meltdown because he wanted a different song that he heard on the radio but I was determined that your truth and your words would take precedence in our home this morning and in my heart.

Lauren's voice rang out over the house:

When I am a long night
You are the sunrise
When I am a desert
You are the river that turns
To find me

What have I done to deserve love like this?
What have I done to deserve love like this?

Your voice like a whisper
Breaking the silence
You say there's a treasure
You'll look 'til You find it
You search
To find me

What have I done to deserve love like this?
What have I done to deserve love like this?
I cannot earn what You so freely give
What have I done to deserve love like this?

..........
God I clung to those words, and I felt their profound impact seeping into the depths of my heart.

I don't know what was going on with M but he was just sooooo angry this morning - to the point that I put my hands on his shoulders and said, "Look, let me pray for you and I prayed out loud over his heart, and his mind, and that these emotions that were so overwhelming." He pulled away from me and sat with his back to me, his arms crossed and his face angry. I literally was just trying to make his breakfast and get him ready for school - and all he wanted to do was anything but that.

But God you reminded me.
I am that willful, stubborn, whiny child. When I don't get my way, I rage and complain, and turn away from You God. I distrust that You have the best intentions for me. Sometimes it's because of things that are out of my control, sometimes its the aftermath of poor choices I've made. But you are relentless. You are faithful. And my conflict doesn't dictate or change your character or your profound love.

A love that is unconditional, unrelenting. You pour everything that You are and have into me and God I know that so often I completely miss out on that, because I let other things become all consuming.

We made it to school on time, walking and telling stories. There was laughter and it felt like all was well.  I decided when I got home that I would spend my time wisely today. Get done the things that I needed to do. Not waste time on social media. Resist the temptation to look at IG, fb, or my etsy shop. I decided to just be present in each moment. 

And then M came home from school and he was SOBBING uncontrollably and all I can say is - Thank you God that you prepared my heart for this. In that moment you gave me the wisdom of how to comfort him. I took him downstairs and he asked for a movie. I said, "Not yet, we are going to spend time together." I held him close, wiped his tears, told him how much I loved him, and we talked about the day and what had made him so sad. We talked about how being tired can make your emotions get SO BIG that you don't know how to handle them. I got him food and told him a story that made him laugh.
And only when he was calm and his heart was settled, then I put a tv show on for him so he could just relax.

That was You God.... You started my day with this challenge to love M in the way that You love us.  You showed me in my impatience what your love translates to for me. You gave me a taste of something that I wanted more of and today I refused to settle for anything less.

If I hadn't spent that time with You this morning, if I hadn't been mindfully aware of what You are doing in our home and my heart  - I know without a doubt that I would have just shushed M and sent him downstairs to watch a movie to calm him down. Because I didn't want Isa. to be woken from his nap. Because I wouldn't have wanted to deal with those emotions because they felt too big for me too.

But God you reminded me. 
Nothing is too big for you. And nothing is too small to escape your love and concern.
What have I done to deserve love like this? I don't know.
But I'm so so grateful.

Thank you. xo

Too Much Strutting

On New Year's Eve I did a painting class - online, with my mum. Painting is something I did in high school and growing up, but haven't really done in years. I've forgotten all the rules I learned in art and why you do certain techniques and what not. I've been wanting to make some paintings for our home that I can write Scripture verses on. But the thing is - they can't be crap. Because I have standards lol. 

So my mum and I were looking for something for us to do together (minus the kids) and this idea came up. We found "theartsherpa"'s YouTube channel, picked a painting of an ocean wave on a beach and we did it. 

The artist who was teaching was great because she reminded us to breathe, that mistakes are part of the process, and it doesn't have to be perfect, and that artists use multiple layers when they paint. So if you mess up - oh well - do another layer and fix your mistake. 

When we finished, we put them up on the fireplace mantle and stood back and looked at them. I didn't like my waves so I went back and redid them. Then - I was finished. 

And I was FLOORED. I CAN PAINT!

Maybe that sounds kinda crazy if you know me as an artist because I sketch a lot and have a felt art shop so it's not like I'm new to art or being creative. But ya know sometimes you say - I'M GONNA DO THIS THING! And then you try it and nothing about it comes naturally, or you don't actually enjoy it, or you realize you're just plain not very good at it. And I wasn't really sure if this was going to be like that. So when I sat back and looked at this painting that I created, I was ecstatic. 

So much so, that I couldn't get enough of this. I hung the painting in my bathroom (replaced a palm tree poster that I've had for years). I took photos and posted it to IG. I couldn't stop looking at my phone to check --  who else likes my art and thinks I'm an amazing painter? And every fb comment or Instagram confirmed what I was feeling so strongly. And every time I passed the bathroom and saw my painting, I would stop and stare and just think about WHAT AN AMAZING ARTIST I AM. I AM GOING TO BE AN INCREDIBLE PAINTER.  JUST LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF ART. 

Then - I felt this soft nudge and a the Holy Spirit whispered a little thought  - a question really. 

"What are you worshiping here? The creation you made, or the one who created it to begin with?"

Ohhhh man....I paint one thing - that someone else literally taught me step by step to make - and suddenly I'm obsessed with myself and my abilities and who else can see these abilities. And I'm strutting around like this obsession and this admiration has suddenly pronounced an artistic goddess. YIKES!!!!! And to top it off, it didn't even cross my mind that God created the very ocean that we were inspired by in the first place. All I could see was me, me, me. And it was driving me to be consumed by others seeing me, me, my accomplishments. 

Phew. 

Sometimes you need a good God-slap. And He doesn't need to do it dramatically, it's just a soft small nudge and a little thought sometimes that brings you back to reality. 

I think for anyone - no matter your abilities or talents - it's so easy to get lost in them. And we have to be so careful because the reality is - they will not fulfill us. We can waste so much time trying to impress and win affirmations as a byproduct but when we do - it will not satisfy. 

Why? 

Because God created us and He didn't create us to be satisfied by that. 

Heck, He isn't even satisfied by that. 

Think about it. 

He created the whole world and then He chose to create Adam and Eve. Why would he do that - knowing the trouble that would come, and how it would change everything. He could have just sat back and enjoyed His incredible creation. Got totally lost in it, the way you and I get lost in a sunrise creeping up over the mountains. Sometimes we are so awestruck by the beauty in creation, we literally cannot move. Imagine you were the one that created it. Don't you think just being able to do that would be enough? 

And yet, God created Adam and Eve in His image and TO BE IN RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM. Yeah, He wanted them to KNOW Him intimately- His love and his incredible intention, His beauty and strength and character and faithfulness. 

Maybe some people out there feel like they don't need to know God. That they can find rest and beauty in creation or relationships and that they don't need anything more. But what if - those things are taken away? What if you lose the physical ability to explore His creation, what if people who are your everything pass away, what if you grow old and can no longer do the things that you love to do - what then? 

Maybe then you will see that God has been there all along, waiting for you to fix your eyes on Him. Waiting to just pour His generous love into your life and your heart. To soften the ache in your soul and to grant you a peace - the kind of peace that doesn't flitter in and out of your life, the kind of peace that isn't dictated by money or abilities or having stuff or people - a Philippians 4:7 kind of peace: "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

God longs to be in relationship with us. That's why He created us, that's everything to Him and He designed us to be made complete by that.  

For me - my biggest avenue of struggle in this sense comes from the creative stuff I do. I'm not particularly smart and I've never been the kind of person that wants to climb the corporate ladder or become crazy rich. Too much strutting comes into play when I share the following with people:

-songs I've written

-art I've made

-stories I've created

-designs I make to sell

These "abilities" are NOT bad things. 

They bring joy to me and to other people in my life. They allow me to bring life to ideas that I've been thinking about. 

I've written songs about God and my faith and my pain and my struggles and seen people moved by the lyrics, seen God use a song to be a blessing to someone. My songs have allowed me to heal from painful experiences or let go of things I was holding onto for too long. I get to convey the love I feel for the people in my life that have made an impact on me through the songs I write. 

Art has been my outlet ever since I was a kid. I love expressing the things I've been dreaming about, am inspired by and they allow me to tap into the childlike wonder that life has a way of bogging down sometimes.

Stories are my favourite way to connect with my kids and I love making up adventures and watching their eyes glaze over as they imagine the scene playing out in front of them. I can use stories for teachable moments and to share truth about myself, about Jesus, about life, and just everyday stuff everyone faces. 

I've made personalized pet ornaments for people whose beloved animal friends passed away. I've made baby mobiles for women who have been trying to get pregnant and are hopeful that this is the time their prayers will be answered. I've made ornaments for adults who just love this one thing and the ornament reminds them of that. And sometimes I just make pretty things that don't have much meaning but might be the perfect gift for that friend or loved one. 

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I think this is such an important post for me to write and acknowledge because I know that my kids will struggle with this too. I see in them a natural love for art, for music, a gift for singing and in this day and age when so much of our personal lives is lived out publicly on social media, I need to nurture a self-awareness in them. 

How can I model to them - living a life where I embrace the abilities I have but a) ask God to show me how to use them for His glory and to be a blessing for other people; b) don't get consumed by other peoples' gold stamps of approval; c) live a life that is full and open to the adventures that Jesus wants to take me on ?

I'm not naive. I can write this deep thought provoking blog post and then ignore God's nudging to spend time with Him. I've done it before and it'll happen again. But God is a grace-oriented God and when it happens and He gives me that little nudge, it's not one of condemnation and shame and Him expecting me to fail - it's a "Hey - I'm here, I love you, I'm thinking about you and I've got exactly what you need for this moment. Stop doing what you're doing. Come spend time with me and I'll show you."

That's what Jesus is all about. Plain and simple.