Sometimes, my pride seeps through.
It likes to take credit for the things that “I” do.
My words dance and reverberate
with power
and I accept the compliments
“you’re a great writer”.
I wish I had the courage
more often to say,
thanks but no thanks,
I was actually such a mess today.
And then God met me
in my wild, tangled up mind,
met me with words the way He designed
for me and Him to know each other.
See everything in this world
echoes His beauty
every stunning thing you see
is just a fraction of His truly
magnificent Creation.
And all creativity is
just us trying to imitate
Dad.
Abba knows best and so
He guides
with gentle hands,
allows our still learning fingers
to paint green rolling hillsides,
to smash together crooked pottery,
and write crappy lines of poetry.
Our mortal souls
see Creation and let out sighs
of elation
and then we set to work, trying
to express our never ending awe.
Like children learning to speak
our parent’s language,
Creation evokes in us a
desire to Create.
Paintbrushes and music scores,
woven baskets and dances that make bodies into
moving magic,
we each become more and more dramatic
as Life
becomes inspiration for Art.
I meet God
best among trees and poetry.
Creation and Creating
help me know deeper
my Creator.
And remind me always
that I am an Imitator.
I want to be known
as a someone made out of
clay,
shaped more and more each day
by the One who imagined
each grain of wheat and blade of grass,
forms rainbows and icicles that shine like glass,
the Maker who sewed together
all the wild fish in the depths of the sea.
All the things the Lord created
and he still want to meet with me
through creativity.
Wow.
And so together we meet and He
teaches me to write,
speaking to me and through me
and my face lights up
and I can’t help the smile on my face
as I glimpse
Love.
I am a writer,
a storyteller too.
They are beautiful parts of
how God made me and I want
to share them with you.
But don’t forget for a minute
I am just the vessel
for the True Author’s words
when I meet with him in quiet or while listening to the
chirping of birds.
I lean in,
let Him show me.
I put pencil to paper
and tentatively at first,
I begin
to Create.
