The question lingers: where does creativity fit into my life during this season?
It's a longing, to fill the creative well.
I see the neighbors sunflowers growing next to the fence that separates our yards. One a classic yellow but the rest are a dreamy burnt orange with warm brown pouring out from the middle. One dangles right over on my side of the fence, like it's there just for me.
I daydream of scratching pencil across paper and dragging and plopping in colors. Should I snap a quick picture of the orange beauty for later? Should I sneak out when the lights dim later tonight and one one down, the one calling to me? Or do I actually have the time to sit nearby to do a quick sketch?
Those 10 seconds fade and I hear someone calling inside.
“Mom, I'm all done!”
“Okay” I holler back.
“I need you to wipe my butt, mom”
“Okay”, I whisper to myself.
And slowly, with a baby on my hip, I get up. I walk inside to complete that one small task but also a million other needs that must be met by me.
The sunflower will probably be there tomorrow.
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Where does creativity fit into my life during this season? What does it look like?
Right now, I think it looks like togetherness.
In my attempt to refill my creative well this summer I’ve decided to accept this season for exactly the gift that it is and lean into it. Creating together.
We spoiled ourselves with flower shaped paint palettes, matching as we dipped brushes into paint. Halle loved that the middle spot was open for mixing all of her colors, which essentially turned out as some shade of brown, every single time.
One particular week I decided to be a little extra fun (yes I would classify this as extra fun). We recycled an empty egg carton from breakfast by ripping it up into pieces and soaking it in hot water. A few days later, we blended that mushy carton up, added water, sprinkled in some buds from the hydrangeas outside, and made our very own paper. The process took all week, but we were both proud in the end. We used our first sheet to write a graduation card for my baby sister.
We made banana bread muffins, with an extra dazzle of chocolate chips. I let go of control, letting my preschooler do every little step while baby brother was strapped to my chest, reaching for anything he could get his hands on.
I had the opportunity to put together a little flower bouquet workshop, which was so so sweet to create alongside friends and do something a little different.
Many days, creativity looked like getting a new recipe made and on the table for dinner, building a castle out of blocks, playing with smelly stickers, or making a beat with a rattle.
Many days, filling the well looked like Friday movie night, napping when the baby napped, talking to my sister with my earbuds in, on a walk, making the time to exercise, and reading a book while bouncing a baby in the front pack and keeping an eye on the preschooler in the mud kitchen.
//
As I type this I’m reminded of why I started making this a priority in the first place: jotting things down in my notebook, taking the time to write, to create.
It’s to seek the Lord and His beauty, His glory, in the middle minutes of my day. The minutes that are seemingly ordinary, but they aren’t. And to be truthful, it’s so hard for me in this season with tiny people at my feet all day.
We’ve been working on noticing and saying “thanks God” for the good things around us-– a theme we learned this summer at VBS. There is so much goodness all around me, in the midst of pure chaos a lot of the times. If I slow down enough, maybe I’ll keep noticing the bits and pieces.
So, thanks God, for the sunflower, the beauty it bestowed that afternoon, and the ability to create together. Maybe just maybe, I’ll pluck one off next summer and do something with it.
Kendra
I remember these days, of which you write so beautifully! Take heart, the little spurts of creativity do add up!