One of the biggest things that gets in our way when it comes to making art is our own ideas about it. We make it so mysterious, so ethereal, so other-than us. And it is, in a way. But if you keep it there, it will continue to be too big to touch. You fear you’ll wreck it all up if you dare to reach for it. So you leave it up there in the clouds, sparkling just out of reach. And it looks pretty and you cower beneath it all helpless and victimy.

Today is the day to reach your grubby hands up high, grab that sparkly dream off that too-high shelf and roll around in the mud with it. It is not as delicate as you think. It will not break and shatter. And neither will you. Well, you might. But that’s okay because your ego is a burden anyway. It is keeping you from the risk, and you can’t afford to live a life risk-free. It isn’t what you were made for.

“God doesn’t want us to be shy with his gifts, but bold and loving and sensible.”

2 Timothy 1:7, The Message

And so you (and I) operate on this level of constant self-editing, and so our creativity is polite and linear. And then we are discouraged. It’s no wonder. I’m not saying publish a blog post filled with raw rants, or put your first crack at your art on display. But I am saying you have to have a first crack. What do you have to lose?

No really, what do you have to lose? I want you to answer that in the comments, because sometimes just naming the fear sets us free. Here, I’ll go first.

If I create the art that really means something to me, people might not like it.

(I feel better already.)

We’ve been suffocated with snow days this week: four days in a row. We’ve gone from the exciting first day (No school!) to the shoulder-slumped fourth day (*sigh* no school). Even the kids are ready to get back. I’ve had to be flexible and gracious with my time. Sometimes I haven’t done such a hot job of it. And it’s made me think about the art we’ve been talking about around here lately. Because some of you are artist who are creating. And some of you are artist who are waiting.

There can be great frustration for those who long to create but aren’t. Maybe you have babies around who need stuff and things – when the twins were born, I was too busy picking dried-spit up out of my hair and staring out the window during my free time to think about any kind of art. Maybe you are taking care of aging parents. Maybe you are in the process of moving and your house is filled with boxes and packing tape, or  you work full time outside of your home and your job responsibilities don’t allow for much else. If you home school or are the president of the PTA or are remodeling your kitchen, you may not see a place in your life for the art.

All of these things could be reasons why you have to wait. BUT (and I’m going to be very bold here), they could also be excuses. It is important to know if you are waiting because of wisdom, because it truly isn’t the right time. It is also important to know if you are waiting because of fear. Here are some ways to discover the difference.

Ask your people. My people would be my husband. For you, it may be other family or even kids. When the twins began to get a bit older, I went a year or so where I felt a pull to write, but I didn’t really tell my husband. What resulted from that was frustration on my part because I was trying to squeeze writing into a schedule that wasn’t allowing it, and also frustration on my husbands part because he didn’t understand how important it was to me. Get your people behind you. The idea of creating in isolation may seem romantic and artsy, but it isn’t.

Adjust your expectations. It doesn’t have to be I’m either going to write a book, or I’m not going to write at all. If you have the idea that you have to finish an entire book or else it doesn’t count, you could be waiting forever. Thirty minutes of writing before the kids wake up still counts.

Art and margin must co-exist. If pursuing your art does not also allow for some white space in your schedule, it could mean that now is not the time to pursue your art. But be honest about this. Decide which things in your schedule you value the most. You may discover huge chunks of time that can be replaced with creativity. Tsh’s book, Organized Simplicity, helped me as I thought about this in my own schedule.

Consider the beginning. If you pick up the Bible and start on page one, the first thing we see God do is to create. It was priority number one. It was not an afterthought. He had a purpose and a vision, and he made it come to be. If you tend to see creating art as a luxury, or if you feel guilty about your creative self, I want to urge you to reconsider. You were made in the image of Someone who places a high priority on creativity. To deny that part of yourself is insulting.

Find the art in the living. I know it may seem like I am contradicting myself here, but if you insist on compartmentalizing your art from your living, you may never find the time to pursue it. The more I see myself as an artist, the more my art spills over into my life. I begin to see meal prep as an outlet for my creative side. I use my writing as a gift by sending a long note to a friend instead of jotting a quick thank you out of obligation. If you can’t find art in your living, keep looking. I promise it’s there.

Three years ago, as I prayed about what 2008 would hold for me, I sensed the Lord speaking these simple words into my heart: It’s time to write. He didn’t tell me what to write, when to write, or how. I had to sort of figure that part out. But I had a clear impression as I considered that the words were from him. As you think about your own art, I want to encourage you to lay it all out there and ask him about it. Because when he calls you to something, I promise he will provide.

Piano was my major until my sophomore year of college. That was when I quit. Required practice and theory classes and hours upon hours in fluorescent lit rooms with Chopin and Czerny did not bring out the art in me, it nearly made it die. I quit simply because I wanted to love it again. It’s the same reason why I will probably never be a real professional photographer. The art of it doesn’t outweigh the responsibility enough, and so I continue to learn at my own pace and in my own way. I take pictures because it helps me see. And that is all.

For a long time, writing was private for me. Over time and through this blog, writing has become something different. Of all the art there is in the world, writing is the art that brings the most satisfaction as well as the most fear. I can avoid the piano for months at a time. But if I don’t write, there is a distinct possibility I might not exist. I know that isn’t actually true, but that is how it feels.

I write for pleasure, for remembering, for learning, for listening, and for money. I can write in the early morning hours as well as late at night. I squeeze it in ten minutes before it’s time to get the kids and quick while the water boils. Unlike piano or photography, the art of writing outweighs the pressure and expectations. For some people, the art of making music is worth the fluorescent lights with Chopin. For me, the art of writing is worth the fear, the risk, and the isolation.

Because I believe I’ve found the art that is also my worship, it is important to me to use it. To practice it. And to share it. When I played piano, it was always really difficult for me to play for people. I was nervous, embarrassed, and tried to avoid it at all costs. If I would have decided that was the art I wanted to pursue, I think I would have gotten better at sharing it. I would argue that unshared art is still art, but it feels more like a hobby. When you invite others to enter in and receive your creativity, then you are doing something holy, worshipful, and also terrifying. And that is the life of an artist.