Our Creative Best–What if?

When our son Thomas was fifteen, he stopped showing me things that impressed him. He’s twenty-three now, and a couple of years ago, he said, “Mom, come here. You gotta see this.”

I hightailed it up the steps.

He was in my office watching a video. “This guy’s incredible. Look.”

(If you can’t see the video below, click here.)

Bending over Thomas’s shoulder, I studied the guitarist. He was young. Amazing. Played from his heart.

I remembered Thomas and his first guitar.

Tiny tears came.

Happy tears.

Around the time we watched the video, Thomas started playing the guitar again.

Wonder why when I see someone doing his or her creative best, it lights a fire in me?

My husband Rick’s passion is cars. The other night, he was watching TV. I was reading.

“Wow,” Rick said. “Look at this.”

(If you can’t see the video below, click here. It’s less than a minute long.)

Watching Chip Foose draw, I spotted the fascinating tools in his office. Markers, brushes, pencils.

Did he draw as a child? 

I thought about my own office, my clothesline full of characters. Sometimes I talk to them.

I ask about their lives. What brings them hope? What inspires them?

And I absolutely love notebooks and colored pens. If I don’t have any paper, a chewing gum wrapper will do.

My attraction to words started when I was young.

I’m eight, reading a Redbook magazine.

I’ve been thinking.

Surely God inspired passion in each of us when we were children.

Maybe it was to knit.

Grow gardens.

Organize stacks of chaos.

Do math problems with ease.

Bake cakes.

Perform science experiments.

Be kind to outsiders.

Sometimes the joys of childhood get buried. We forget what we once loved. 

What if He’s calling us to play from our hearts again?

 “…take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.” Galatians 6:5 The MSG

Love,

Julie

Stop Washing Dishes–You Don’t Want to Miss This

Have you ever been so busy you almost missed something special? Last week, our son Thomas (22) came home while I was doing the supper dishes. “Mom, Sammy’s gonna eat, then we’re gonna play guitars.”

“Hey, Sammy,” I said. “Come on in.”

Sammy’s been teaching Thomas how to “pick” songs on their acoustic guitars. After supper, I figured they’d go down in the basement to practice, like usual.

But they didn’t.

After they ate tacos, Sammy sat in the den strumming his guitar, and I started doing the dishes again. Thomas stood beside me. “Mom,” he whispered. “Sammy’s going to play.”

“Okay. I can hear him from here.”

“You don’t want to miss this,” he said. “Come in the den with us.”

This wasn’t like Thomas. He’s not the kind of son who says, “Mom, come look.” And he’d never invited me to listen to them play.

Until that night.

I glanced at dirty dishes.

I almost reached for an empty Coke can to toss it. Almost rinsed out the sink. Almost scraped one last plate.

You don’t want to miss this. Stop washing dishes.

(Thomas is on the left. Sammy’s on the right.)

I sat down in the red recliner and Sammy looked at Thomas. “What do you want me to play?”

“Play ‘The Old Rugged Cross,” Thomas said.

Oh, me. I had no idea…I almost missed this. Me and my busy self. Doing the dishes.

As Sammy played, God filled the empty space in my busy heart.

He slowed me down.

Reminded me of Who He is.

What if my dirty dishes had been too important? What if winding up the day and getting out of the kitchen had held me?

What if I’d hesitated?

I would’ve missed the Majesty of the moment.

Lord, bless Sammy and Thomas. They still have no idea how they blessed me.

And maybe they blessed you too.

Love,

Julie