I’m a creative soul. I have the degree to prove it, but the desire goes way deeper than apiece of paper.
I must create. It oozes out of me. A longing starts creeping when I’m absent from it for too long, and it turns into a tidal wave of discontentment…until my fingers (and floors and walls) get dirty with the creative juices I tend to spill.
Some can create cleanly, I cannot. Heck, some can live cleanly, I cannot. Some can love cleanly, mine is messy and all over the place…I digress.
Those in this stage with me can attest, personal time is very slim, and when it is found my bear finds it too and “I help.”
I wouldn’t trade it. I cant even fathom the idea of daycare (dubbed school) so I can have some “me” time.
I am too fully aware these little years vanish too quickly. I want to be present for as many moments as possible, even if I am exhausted.
However, that means I MUST find other outlets for my creative soul to express itself. To glorify God by using the talents and energies and soul He’s given me.
Some days I long for my old studio. Canvas primed, sun shining, music too loud and nothing to do but paint.
That’s not my season anymore though, and I wouldn’t go back.
So until the littles are larger, my home, my life is my canvas. I must actively and consciously put my creative spirit into the daily tasks.
A study in beauty and design and ingenuity and functionality is as simple as a walk with a 2 year old. Who must stop, sit down and examine the clumps of grass, and acorns, and holes in the ground, and and and…
And if I slow down enough to sit with him I’m taught lessens in art, and life, a degree couldn’t even begin to touch on.