Gone Coastal

Saturday, December 09, 2006

A gift.

So we had our first designated artist afternoon last Sunday. We made a couple of things to hang on a mobile for T. With some luck I'll get one or two more done so there could actually be something resembling a mobile instead of just two hangy thingies. But my friend and I agreed that it was good just to do something. And fun to play with Fimo while T watched from her bouncy chair across the table. But it was a way to get over the inertia.
Taking the momentum forward, I completed a pencil drawing this week for a thank you card. Monday I did some sketching, figuring out the composition and the angles, then picked it up again on Wednesday between feeds, etc., working on the real thing. I enjoyed the process and was pretty happy with the result - I haven't done a lot of serious pencil drawing (lots of sketching and scribbling, just not taking it to a finished project with pencil alone).
As I drew nearer to the end result, I found myself wanting to hang on to it rather than give it away, even though it was conceived from the start for someone else. I settled for taking a picture of it for myself, and for my portfolio, should I never need such a thing again, but still felt reluctant to not have it for myself. [Funny thing, since I've become a mom, the expression "they're like my children" doesn't seem to ring nearly so true]. And then this afternoon I was reflecting on a song, and the Christmas season. The song, by Nichole Nordeman, was not a Christmas song per se, but asked a question common to the season.
How can I thank You?
What can I bring?
What can these poor hands lay at the feet of the King?
And I was reminded that everything I have comes from God. Including the talents that allow me to create art. So what I create isn't mine, and I create and give it away as I feel led. It's not mine to worry about once it's done. I needn't worry if it's liked or appreciated or even seen, whether it speaks to someone, whether it provides encouragement or hits a raw nerve, whether someone will notice certain details carefully incorporated, or the signs of mistakes not quite corrected. I give it away completely, as a small gift back to the Creator in whose image I'm made, a token for everything He's given me, and everything he's created me to be. And that feels good.



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