May I admit a pet peeve?
It is like nails on a chalkboard to me when a woman says, “I’m just not creative.”
I quell my quick impatience with the knowledge that many a woman utters those words from a place of deep insecurity. There is perhaps in the back of her mind the echo of a parent or art teacher’s harsh criticism over her second-grade masterpiece. There’s the older sister or friend who wrote songs, painted pictures, and put together the perfect outfit with no discernible effort. Or maybe it is just that her reflection, her home, her life never looks like a feature in a magazine, and she imagines that everyone else’s does.
Simply put, God makes. God made us in His image, and therefore it is part of our beloved birthright that we are makers as well. And when God made, He delighted in His creation. He beheld it, and saw that it was good.
That experience, of participating in the act of creation and then enjoying the work of your hands, your heart and mind, is part of the beloved life. Don’t miss it. There are all sorts of ways to create. Yes, there are oil paints and musical scores and dressmaker forms and poetry, but there are also yarn and wood, flour and milk. There are lenses and potting soil and paper and furniture to move.
There are children, raised surely with the best we have in us to pour into them. There is dinner, not only the food we eat but the candles we light and the table we gather around. There’s a bed made smooth for the rest of the weary, there’s medicine and soup and a flower in a vase on a tray for a sick one.
The beloved life itself is an act of creation and of hope. Each day is ours to make. And because our belovedness is not meted out according to our output, creation can be an act of love and joy and praise to the One Who made us to make.
What can we create today? And what can we step back from, smile, and say, “It is good.”