Do you ever sit in front of a glorious white page and suddenly wonder what to say? It's not the same as having nothing to say. It's more a situation of knowing there's so very much swirling around in your heart, your mind, your soul that you know you have to choose your words, but which ones!
So much. So much.
Life has been so sweet lately. It's like an ordinary leaf is just part of the landscape, but if the rain clears and the sun comes out before the raindrops evaporate, each drop sparkles like a diamond and you're surrounded by wonder.
And somehow those moments wake up other moments that were planted like seeds in your heart - maybe years ago - and they start to grow.
You watch a wonderful girl think your son is wonderful and he thinks she's wonderful too, and suddenly the moment when he was an infant nursing at your heart when you prayed for this... for him to have it someday.
You're given a song by your daughter and she says, "Hey, Mama" and spills her heart out about a boy, and you watch it grow into something very solid. You flash back to pulling her around on the vacuum cleaner while she matched the pitch and sang made up songs the same way you sang made up songs to her when you rocked her to sleep.
But lately, I'm feeling an urgency. No - that has a connection to danger or loss.
What do I say? A compelling. Yes.
Something that is both driving and inviting all at once.
But do I blog it?
Do I create a podcast?
Do I talk about the things I'm learning and say, "Don't wait like I did. You can have all this now, dear younger one.
What to say?
And like I usually do, I lace up my shoes, step onto my numbered lane and then step away before my race.
Why do I do that?
It's my race to win. Yes, it's my race to run. I trained for it. I know my lane. I know my event. But it will never be run unless I run it.
In the art world, self sabotage is very common. We see incredibly talented artists remain undiscovered while mediocre and even rather poor quality art get recognized and publicized. All because they showed up. They all did the work of creating, of learning skills, developing their voice maybe, but on the day of the race - they ran.
So maybe this is what I write today - to my older me.
Do. not. give. up.
There's a verse in Jeremiah 12:5
“If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage in the thickets by the Jordan?"
That verse has haunted me ever since I read it several years ago. It was convicting, compelling, inspiring.
This year, it just got loud.
So I tried to paint what I see every time that verse runs through my head. I'm a ground level, and a wild heard of horses race by. The very ground beneath me thunders! I am shaken both physically and with an awestruck fear at the power of it.
And the unspoken is there. "You can run with them."
I'm a mere mortal. At my very best, a footman. But to compete with them? Really?
I don't even know what that means yet. I'm old. To old to even run a mile.
I tried to paint these majestic animals. I completely messed up. I started over. But at least on my canvas, the shadow of my mistakes became a testament of movement. A foundation of what not to do that added to the knowing of how to run. The shadows of those who went before us that we can learn from.
And just today, I'm marveling. My son just ran his first half triathlon. Until now, we Crouches have not been athletes. We are creatives. And it is no coincidence that Davis also gets to see the songs he's co-written and worked on with his FFSA team get released on their first EP today! A testimony of endurance.
That story is a different blog, but this painting throws me back to when toddler Davis and I would march around our tiny first home singing a my made up tune to Hebrews 12:1
"Let us run with endurance the race set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus."
Do. not. give. up.
But for me. What does that even mean right now?
My kids are raised and following Jesus. My husband has finished well and retired from teaching. We are pouring into those around us, but there's something I'm supposed to do.
I'm working on a book that keep sending me back to square one. How could it be otherwise? I've never written a book before.
Yet I'm so tired of "false contractions" in the birthing of this book that I really don't care much anymore. I just want it out of me. I want to hold it, look at it and watch to see what it will grow to be.
But that's not it either. There's something.
I'm dedicating January to getting prints of my artwork online. That will be HUGE. I know it's easy for some, but not for me.
But that's not it either.
We are getting to mentor some amazing younger people and it's a thrill like no other to watch their pennies drop as they take what we offer and run with it.
But that's not it either.
What to say?
So I will sit here in my not known and not yet.
I will keep writing to see if I can find the words. I will keep painting to see if I can find the song in color that I'm aching to express. I will keep thinking. I will keep laughing. I will keep watching my kids with awe at the adults they've become. I will keep melting when my husband comes in the room.
And I will watch most for when Jesus walks in the room to wake me up from my sleep walking. I'm doing my best to keep oil in my lamp, to be ready.
I confess, I have such low endurance in so many areas. And yet...
A friend of mine just came up. She has a gorgeous leather bag. I smiled and said, "Is that a Portland Leather bag?" "Yes!" We shared a knowing smile.
When you love a designer, you recognize them anywhere.
I'm waiting for something. I don't know what it is yet. But I'll know it when it comes. Because I know the work of the Designer. And I love the Designer. I'm learning to recognize Him anywhere.
Love,
©2024 Lydia D Crouch
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