There’s just something about God’s ways that cause the constant return to quiet.
“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.”
Psalms 25:4 ESV
When you’ve had and have so many irons in the fire and you’re persisting, persisting, persisting because you believe not persisting would be giving up and well giving up might be quitting altogether once and for all.
And then you’d have to fake being fine with the oh, well I tried and it wasn’t meant to be for me facade.
I’ve been creating like crazy, so much that there’s no more space for my pieces and a crazy little children’s table I’m determined I’m gonna be stuck with because, no one thinks it’s worth what I’ve put into it and oh,
Well, you’re not really an artist, Lisa. You have talent but you don’t have what it takes to take you anywhere.
And you’re not really a writer except that people actually like your words and you like sharing them and a few people take something with them from their reading. And they tell you and you smile, thinking oh that’s kind of you but I wish I could be more, more, more.
Because you’ve got five or six possible places and ideas and they’re absolutely all over the place and all overdue soon.
You fathom a community changing idea for suicide prevention but you’re naive to believe you can do it your own and you know that so that knowledge joins in the conversation and question of them all.
Give up or try?
Then you realize, just stop.
Just stop for a day or maybe two.
Stop and remember your why that got crowded out by your what if and why not me or the big one for me, “How can I, How should I and mostly How could I not?
Because there’s always the place inside that won’t let you forget God told you these things are your purpose, He made you for these.
Landscapes were painted because the angels seemed less charming, amateurish, I discerned.
Others wanted color, I adjusted my technique and my brushes.
I wrote bravely and hurriedly to comply with a deadline and four days later reread the folded and put away copy and found a sentence that made no sense, a whole paragraph that had no flow.
Obsessively checking emails to see if they chose to publish it anyway. Crazy!
Crazy ever seeking more for me.
Too much, Lisa. Too much Lisa.
You lost your why again.
Art had become a chore, my quiet space an obligation, counting down time ’til I was done with one and then finish three more to be complete, a series I called “Spirit”.
I suppose such is life when you’re teetering over deciding your worth from what you create instead of from your creator.
The things that have always been your sweet spot of comfort become a frantic and frazzled focus, an ever futile challenge.
It is miserable when you veer off the path of what had become your peaceable and pretty place.
So, you take a break, maybe just an hour, a day or two and you ask God to speak before you close your eyes.
You wake and there’s barely light outside, the soft and gradual I’m not gonna overwhelm you revelation of day.
Feels like God saying,
Come now, let’s begin again.
This time be disciplined. Be disciplined not in your doing.
But, be disciplined in your believing.
Make things of beauty because I’ve given you the ability, the hands, the thoughts, the words.
Make them for me, allow me to take them where they belong.
I’ve begun a new piece, returned to my beginning place, the quiet pieces resting on lyrics from old hymnal pages. The works I call “my girls” and some have called my ministry.
I’m at peace again.
Back to my soul.
I’m linking up with the Tell His Story community along with Mary Geisen and this beautiful story: https://marygeisen.com/there-goes-my-heart/