2011 February | chatting at the sky

a necessary part

February 16, 2011

“You are a necessary part of my journey.” That’s what Liberty said yesterday in the comments. I’ve met Liberty a few times and I really like her and her words are incredibly encouraging. More than that, though, she got me thinking about things.

I felt grounded in those simple words, because it’s a reminder – we cannot do this alone. I have to tell you, the process of writing that post, the one about quitting, was the very thing that encouraged me. It was laying the green sod down on the tired dirt, and your comments poured in like much needed rain, like flowers to fill in the empty spaces. I used to feel guilty that I have to write in order to learn, embarrassed over my process. I used to try to sit and keep my pen still long enough to listen, long enough to have a proper, respectable ‘quiet time.’

I don’t feel guilty anymore. I feel free. Because if the Lord is the Maker, then it’s his job to make. And to re-make. He has made me to worship with words. He is re-making me to learn how to accept that, embrace that, and share it with you.

Liberty’s words resonate deep, because the truth is, I am a little bit addicted to the island of myself. I’ve lived a lot of life under an emotional rock. Not in an anti-social way, but in an it’s-easier-to-hide-than-offer-myself-to-you way. To move from the rock to the open field takes effort and intention, but the more I inch my way out, the more alive I feel.

That’s what art does. It brings you out of yourself, out from your hiding. Bonita has been a necessary part for me – and Lysa and my sister and Kendra and Kelly and my Dad and Melissa and my mom and other girls who have blogs and lots of ones who don’t and you – necessary parts. The I-can’t-do-it-without-you people; the please-don’t-stop-doing-what-you-do people. Their art is necessary for me.

Your art is necessary for someone, too. And I don’t just mean your art project – I’m mean you, the artist. We don’t just need the story you tell, we need the storyteller, herself. Do you live like you are a necessary part?

Filed Under inspired 52 Comments

for when you feel like quitting

February 14, 2011

Everyday lately, I think about quitting. I think about finishing this second book I’m contracted for, and being done with writing forever. I think about shutting down the blog, closing down the Twitter account, and burning my laptop. I would be free of the critics, especially the ones who live in my head, but also the ones I imagine who exist out there, invisible, waiting for my book to come out so they can hate it and tell me so.

I’m not going to quit. But I still think about it, because it’s been one of those the-kids-have-all-been-sick, the-dog-chewed-up-the-couch, I-cried-myself-to-sleep weeks. And when those weeks come, quitting the art feels like the answer, because the art is the optional thing, right? And I shouldn’t spend time on the art when all this serious living needs to get done.

I think about the mystery – Christ in you, the hope of glory – and I hear myself pray out loud in the car, Lord, show me the mystery. Remind me. What should I do differently?

I listen quiet for an answer. He offers love instead.

He does not manage me, to-do list me, or bullet point me. He loves me. Is with me. And believing Him feels impossible, until I do, like a miracle, like luke-warm water turning merlot red right there in the cup. And then I sense the hope again. Because – oh yeah – God doesn’t tell me what to do, he invites me into what he has done. That’s why there’s freedom, even in the blah. Hope, even in the dark. Love, even in the fear. Trust, even though the critics. And believing in the midst of all that? It feels like flowing skirts and wildflower spinning; it feels risky and brave and underdog winning. It feels like redemption. It feels like art.

Filed Under faith, inspired 96 Comments

all the art

February 11, 2011

After reading your comments on yesterdays post, I had about 20 more things I wanted to talk about with you, not the least of which is whether or not you think it’s possible to mother without guilt. But today, we’re still fighting the sickies – ear infection this time. Instead, here are all the art posts from the past few weeks in one place. I’ll be writing more about it all because I can’t not. But for now . . .

Filed Under inspired 13 Comments

the secret to keeping the wonder

February 10, 2011

Every afternoon, we walk. And most of the time, I hear myself telling him Hurry up, we’re gonna be late. We don’t want to keep the girls waiting. And his legs, growing for only a little over four years, quicken for a few steps. But then he sees a stick or a pointy leaf and must stop to touch, to pick up, to handle the wonder.They’re like magnets, his little hands to nature. And just last week, in a stroke of brilliance, I thought Hmm. Perhaps I should leave 10 minutes earlier. Maybe I should consider scheduling in time for the wonder. So we did. We left early, we walked slow, we stayed silent, we stopped. It was all a part of the plan, and so we were sure not to miss it.

For two years, that’s what Tuesdays Unwrapped was here. We scheduled time to think about the wonder, to consider the gifts, and to unwrap them with our photos and our words. I’ve missed it. And I don’t know what else to say about it. I’m not in a place where I can start it back up, but I haven’t had the heart to take down the page in the navigation about it yet.

Because the kids have been home sick for so many days, I think a lot about what I have to do, but am unable to do as much with all the needs. But sick brings a hidden blessing along — a slowing. Time pours out of bottomless buckets and the clock ticks slow days away, days of jammies and soup and giant blanket forts. And I’m with them, but I’m not always here. I have to fight to stay in the moment. I fight the pull of the list, the email, the laundry, the window-staring. I look at the clock and promise myself For the next 20 minutes, I will sit here without getting up. And I will play cars.

Before I had babies, I never dreamed that play would be such hard work. I imagined endless days of wonder, the kind I felt on Friday nights when I would babysit for two hours and travel back to the days of Disney movies and footed pajamas. And I’d dream pink frilly dreams of my own someday family. I never imagined that I would have to fight to keep the wonder.

But fight, I do. It’s a messy fight, not at all consistent. I cry about that sometimes, about my inability to stay in this day, this moment. But I try not to dwell on my lack, try not to embrace the shame that threatens to overwhelm. Instead, I think about the wonder, about this moment, and about the God who gives good gifts. Thankfulness can chase away a thousand thoughts of shame.

Can you relate with this wonder fight?

Filed Under a mother 96 Comments

inspiring links

February 9, 2011

There are three sick children in the house this week, the fifth day in a row of fevers and coughs. The only words in my vocabulary are Let me take your temperature and Your chicken noodle soup is ready.This is my built-in-to-the-wall-in-the-laundry-room desk. I write on it with a dry erase marker because it has glass on top of it. And yes, it is a brilliant idea. And no, it wasn’t mine, it was like that when we moved in. So I take cryptic notes and try to either check them off or write them on real paper before the four-year-old runs his cars all over it and it gets “accidentally” erased.

Here are some links I meant to share this weekend, but forgot because you know, the fever. Enjoy the words woven by these artists among us:

All You Need is Love by Remodeling This Life

Pieces of Me by Kelly Sauer | A Restless Heart

Running Our Races & Becoming Winners by Jody Hedlund

Artist in Residence by Miss A La Mode

Her Big Brown Eyes by Brambleberry Grace

How to See by The Run-A-Muck

Filed Under inspired 16 Comments

5 ways to guarantee your art isn’t a waste of time

February 7, 2011

Two years ago this very month, I was working away on a book proposal for a book I was sure was a bad idea. I had convinced myself in the dark of night that me getting a book published was about as likely as finding a lighthouse in a forest. Still, I kept working – one third because I was crazy, one third because I was too proud to quit something I started, and another third because I truly believed I had something to say. That last third was really what kept me going during the times when all I wanted to do was crawl under my coffee table with a bag of Oreos.

One afternoon when the task at hand was feeling particularly impossible, I emailed my friend Lysa who was the first person who told me I should write a book. Well, she wasn’t the first person who told me, but she was the first person I believed. So I sent the email and a few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Lysa.

I began to share with her about my doubts and struggles in writing this proposal. I had questions, and lots of them. She very graciously answered them, and also told me she thought Mary DeMuth had a stellar non-fiction book proposal e-book (I bought it, and it is). I can’t remember every detail of what we talked about, but there is one thing she said that has continued to encourage me in this writing journey:

“None of this is a waste. I know right now you are wondering why you’re doing this, wondering if anything will ever come from it. It may turn out the way you hope or it may not, but the things you are learning now in the process will not be wasted. I can promise you that.”

- Lysa TerKeurst

So many of you have voiced in the comments that one of your biggest fears in pursuing your art is that it will end up being a waste of time. I. Hear. You. Maybe there is a passion that is beginning to wake up within you, but you worry that it is silly or childish or worse, irrelevant. Maybe you are longing for something so badly that it nearly hurts – motherhood or career, travel or discovery – but to work towards it feels foolish, because there are so many factors out of your control.

Allow me to introduce you to the bigger picture. Let’s use writing as an example, just for conversations sake. Is getting your book published in the traditional way your only measure of time well-spent? If so, there are a lot of writers out there who are wasting their time. There are no guarantees to publication. But? Isn’t there so much more? Isn’t there a higher, more beautiful dream?

Redefine success. There is a reason why you are feeling pulled toward your art. Success could simply be for you to finally believe it, no matter if a publisher does or not. Give yourself permission to dream beyond the obvious. Believe that God gives good gifts. Believe that you have a part in his story. Believe in something bigger, someone bigger, than yourself.

Embrace brokenness. There is beauty in humility. Anything we pursue that brings us to a place of recognizing our smallness is not a waste of time. And as a wise friend of mine once told me, Don’t despise the days of small beginnings.

Look around. Is there someone who believes in you? Is there someone you have inspired with your art? There is courage in connection. If pursuing your art brings you closer to someone else, if it allows you to be vulnerable in ways you weren’t able to before, than your art has not been wasted.

Pursue thankfulness. It’s a beautiful thing to believe you have something to say, something to offer the world. But it can be easy to get swallowed up with the desire and focus of it all. I can’t think of a thing that draws me into this present moment more than a wild pursuit of thankfulness. Any art that cultivates the soil of a thankful heart is not a waste of time.

Redefine failure. This thing we so try to avoid could actually be the art itself. ”Have the ability to fail, often and with grace—and in public! The only way . . . to grow is to ship risky things, to create change, to make art, to change people. And yet, shipping risks failure. And so we demand you fail.” – Seth Godin

***

Lysa recently wrote a post on her blog about her own writing journey. She talks about failure. She talks about naysayers. She talks about doubt, embarrassment, and fear. And she talks about success. Her recent book, Made to Crave, hit the New York Times Best Seller List a few weeks ago. But she wrote many books before this one that didn’t.

If you would like to know more about Lysa’s book, Made to Crave, there will be a free webcast tonight at 8 pm EST. All the details are here, including times they will re-broadcast. I watched last week and loved every minute. It was like a real TV show. And it definitely made me re-think the whole “crawling under the coffee table with a bag of Oreos” thing.

Filed Under a writer, inspired 57 Comments

getting creative

February 5, 2011

We’ve been talking for over a month now about how art is more than cutting and pasting and paint; we’re talking about being people who actually live as though we believe we are creative and courageous. And that comes out in all kinds of ways.

Today, I’m writing over at (in)courage about how my willingness to embrace this creativity is influencing the way I see things – specifically time with my husband. I would love to have you join me there.

Filed Under (in)courage, a wife 4 Comments