It's spring, which means another season of creating is upon us.
There are piles of walking sticks next to the garage, waiting to be carved, polished, and sold. I crammed the doghouse full of thicker logs, ready to be sanded and shaped and shined. A series of large stumps lines the side of the wood shop, awaiting whatever creative genius comes their way (I haven't decided yet). And that is in addition to the things I've been bringing home from the neighbors' curbs, the treasures I find while out for a walk, and the regular creating work that is almost always going on somewhere in my house and brain.
Of course, I am also continuing to create in the written word and the final words on Prayse should be penned here in the next couple of weeks, which opens the door for the huge undertaking of editing the work - another aspect of creating.
I love this season!
The truth is, I love creating, but it seems so much easier in spring, somehow maybe more holy, because the rest of the world is busy creating around me. The flowers are creating their blooms. The trees are creating their leaves. The skies are creating their rains. The sun is creating its rainbows. The birds are creating their nests (and babies to fill those nests).
It's just that I seem more mindful of things in this season. As I'm carving on the walking sticks, I'm taking care with my wisps of scrap, knowing that some bird somewhere could use that for its nest. When I'm sitting at the piano or playing the trumpet, I am listening to that same bird sing its song from somewhere high in my tree. I'm digging holes for flowers while I'm watching other new growth burst through the soil right next to me. It just seems right now that the whole world is creating anew, and it gives me this incredible spark of energy when I find myself right alongside it. Or better yet, right in the middle of it all.
But don't get me wrong. I create, but I am no creator. I've done this a few times here and often while talking to friends, but I will never call myself more than a create-r. And I won't call you that, either.
Because as hard as I try, as much work as I pour into these things, as much joy as I take from seeing them form and from working out the kinks and from perfecting and polishing and working these things out, as excited as I am even to see Prayse nearing its completion, I'm keenly aware that I have not created anything o-worthy.
I could fold you a flower out of a single sheet of paper, and it might be beautiful and it might even be awesome, but it's nothing compared to the way a tulip cautiously peeks from its bud and slowly opens itself as it blooms and grows. I can carve you a walking stick or a garden sculpture from the branches of my tree, and it might be beautiful and it might even be awesome, but it's nothing compared to the knotty way the tree itself grows, the twists and turns and anatomy of the tree that I'm trying to preserve even as I create around it. I can play you a song on any number of instruments, but it's nothing compared to the whisper of the winds through the tree and the melody of the birds playing softly on top of it.
I can tell you a story, write it out even, and fill a book with my words, and it might be beautiful and it might even be awesome, but it's nothing compared to the story He's telling right now that is so far beyond words that it mocks what I'm trying to do here.
See, I am a create-r, and I love that my God has created that in me. I love that I am a creature (an object of creation) created to create by my Creator. I am humbled and honored that He has given me this to do, and the ability to even be successful sometimes at doing so. But let's not confuse things here: we're not even on the same playing field.
You see the things I do, and maybe you think that's cool. Maybe you think that's neat. Maybe you even think that's awesome. But I look at the things God does, and I think that's incredible. I think that's indescribable. I think that's breathtaking and beautiful. And like so many before me, the only words I have to say are "O, my God."
Which is why I'm a create-r and I save the "o" for my God - the Master Craftsman, the Skilled Artist, the Holy Workman. He's the Creator.