What is your favorite childhood medium of art?

Monday, April 12, 2010

Where the Sidewalk Starts

"When you come looking for me, you'll find me. "Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed." -Jeremiah 29:13 (Message)


Sidewalk chalk is my my preferred medium of art. I just bought a box a few days ago and my sisters and I enjoyed decorating our driveway with an artistic "Happy Easter" greeting. I have kept the box on my desk for the past week, and it served as motivation to get through whatever I was working on, in hopes of taking advantage of the wonderful weather once again.

Finally, today a friend and I were able to break out the sidewalk chalk once again, and we took a walk around campus to find an inconspicuous location on which to draw our springy masterpiece. We chose a concrete wall behind a dorm building, and went to work scripting "What a wonderful world" onto the dingy gray monolithic block. We still took care to details even though we knew our artwork wouldn't be getting much eye-traffic, being in the boondocks of the campus.

It turned out beautifully, and I actually hope a few people stop by and take a closer look at our proportionally correct globe, tree with multi-colored leaves, and our initials "carved" into the tree. The details make it beautiful.

It occurred me that God's creation is a little bit like this. God creates with a transformational brush, which doesn't just cover up dinginess with a stroke of chalk that will be easily washed away, but rather transforms things into something inherently beautiful.

I am also beginning to think that if our mural was hidden betwixt the crags and shadows of the campus, where few would find it, then what might I be missing? How many chances at sublime beauty are hidden from the average wanderer's view?

It only makes sense to me that God would tuck away a few aesthetic wonders for those who avidly seek them. So be a thrill-seeker! Try to find what God might be hiding in the secret places. When I did this, it led me to a bed of pine needles by the babbling stream, where the sun hit me perfectly. God will make sure you are not disappointed.

Make it a point to venture to the top of a mountain, to follow a river until you find a waterfall, and to take a little trip off of the beaten path. Perhaps you will discover a beautiful part of creation, or maybe you will just stumble upon a chalk mural drawn on a block of concrete.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Purple Crayons, White Crayons


"Life is the art of drawing without an eraser." - John Gardner

There are many things that intrigue me, and one of them is the existence of the white crayon in every Crayola crayon box. They are basically just wax. They don't really show up on black paper, you know. That's what chalk is for. I've often pondered this, but it wasn't until this past summer that I found it laughable. I had a special needs camper named Norma who loved coloring. The thing was, she would always color with white crayons. This always made me chuckle because it was clear that her already white rabbit was not getting any whiter. And yet, the white crayon is a staple in every colorer's crayon box.

Except for Harold. As you may remember from when you were 6 years old, Harold has a purple crayon. With his purple crayon in his paper world, he drew the world as he wanted it to be and needed it to be.


He drew in windows to look out of, paths to walk on, and a bed to sleep in. He drew his favorite pies, and fearsome dragons. His world was drawn in bold purple with no eraser.

The difference between Norma and Harold goes deeper than the color of their crayons. Norma's white crayon made no difference on her page. She could safely go out of the lines without anyone noticing. But Harold's purple crayon set things in stone and unabashedly changed his reality.

So it is with life. Too often we pick the white crayon in the box so that nobody can see if we make a mistake. And what we do draw makes no difference in the scheme of things.

I urge you to opt for the purple crayon, and to draw your world unashamedly, coloring it with the things you wish to see happen, and the things that bring you joy.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Relishing the Small


"The pursuit of happiness is a most ridiculous phrase, if you pursue happiness you'll never find it." - C.P. Snow

We spend too much time trying to find happiness. But if we overuse that "certain unalienable right," we will neglect the other two: both life and liberty. I've stumbled upon a handful of other blogs on which people post lists of the everyday things that make them smile, laugh, or feel good. I was inspired to develop a creative list of my own.

Think of it as my expression of gratitude for the small things that mean the most. So here are 50 things -in no particular order- that can make my every day full of life, liberty, and happiness itself. Maybe these things make you smile as well.

1. Crock pot dinners.
2. British and Australian accents.
3. Going dancing.
4. Sharp crayons.
5. High notes at the end of a song.
6. Barbershop quartets.
7. A really good pianist, cellist, or violinist.
8. A well edited photograph.
9. The first bite into a crisp apple.
10. The smell of a new book.
11. Reading a new book.
12. Sending a letter to someone far away.
13. The smell of freshly ground coffee.
14. Grass clippings (everything about them is wonderful.)
15. Seeing a rabbit, pheasant, or deer cross your lawn.
16. Slamming the door to make a flock of blackbirds fly away in a big black cloud.
17. Someone who wears dreadlocks well.
18. Celtic music.
19. Going barefoot, rain or shine.
20. Smelling every candle in a candle store.
21. Reading all the Children's Classics at Barnes and Noble.
22. Saying "surprise me" to the barista when ordering at a coffee shop.
23. Learning simple words in different languages. Kati ntegedde!
24. Food made by grandparents.
25. Stories told by grandparents.
Intermission...
"Think big thoughts but relish small pleasures." -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

26. Lamplight.
27. Stomping around in mud.
28. Really loud thunderstorms.
29. Picking berries.
30. When the corn is so high that all the roads seem like tunnels.
31. Taking a nap in a hammock.
32. Building a fire and cooking over it.
33. Eating outside.
34. Bubble baths.
35. Tie dye.
36. Having a cool calendar picture for my birth month.
37. The popping sound a Pillsbury dough canister makes.
38. Putting my head out of the sunroof.
39. The smell of sunscreen.
40. Handmade pottery.
41. Getting a letter with a unique postage stamp.
42. Crossing any border into a different country, state, or town...
43. Being able to name and locate constellations.
44. Getting enough sleep that you wake up with the sun.
45. Finishing an exam before everyone else.
46. Wearing something that belonged to a grandparent.
47. A round of Kum-Ba-Ya by the fireside.
48. Face paint.
49. Finding money (or bobby pins, or anything useful) in a pocket.
50. Smiling (even if you have to force yourself to do it.)

So maybe you can think about what makes you smile, what makes you laugh, and what makes you happy. As Socrates said,
"The unexamined life is not worth living."
Reexamine what makes you tick. The more you think about it, the longer your list will become. Every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The Field to the Left



"What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson


Dandelions have always been my favorite flowers, although in recent years I have switched to daisies after being told repeatedly that "dandelions are weeds!"

To my luck, I've grown up with a cornfield in front of my house, a wheat field behind it, and a soybean field to the right. And to the left? A huge field of dandelions. I remember getting teary-eyed when my father went outside with the weed killer to annhilate my precious flowers in the front yard -- but he always left the field to the left filled with them. To me, dandelions are as sure a sign of spring as snow is of winter...but so much more welcome!

The best part about dandelions? They are so predictable. Every spring morning as I sauntered through the dewy grass out to the schoolbus, the field to my left appeared entirely green, without a trace of any other color. But the moment I stepped off the bus each afternoon, the field was blossoming with countless beautiful little replicas of the sun. But it's a weed! Maybe so, but a very pretty weed.

What other kind of flower has whimsical white seedlings that can be blown away into the wind? What other kind of flower is acceptable to be picked from a strangers yard without consequence? What other kind of flower can you pop off the head and string the stems together into long chains while on the playground? None. Just dandelions.

Dandelions should be seen for their virtues, rather than as a nuisance as sensible adults see them. Dandelions were once used for all sorts of medicinal purposes and culinary artistry, because they are full of vitamins and antioxidants. Today, they are little more than a weed. Dandelions are the "a plant for which we once knew the use but we've forgotten it."

Let us not forget that beauty can be found in places where not everyone will agree. Remember that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and go pick yourself a lovely, copious bunch of dandelions to brighten up your kitchen table. They are free, after all.

Friday, March 12, 2010

A 59,969,536 Patch Quilt



"I shall stand for everything that is light
and beautiful and true and wonderful
."

-The Pig of Happiness, by Edward Monkton


I have a quilt on my bed made of eighty-eight patches all signed with messages from eighty-eight friends. Twenty-seven of those friends wrote something about my "infectious" smile or "contagious" laugh. To them, resplendence of character is what I will be remembered for. Emotional contagion: what a splendid thing!

It is a truth universally acknowledged (thanks, Jane Austen, for that wonderful phrase) that happy people make us happier, and sad people make us sadder. Apparently, there is now actual research to back this up. "A friend who lives within a mile and who becomes happy increases the probability that a person is happy by 25%. Similar effects are seen in spouses (8%), siblings (14%), and next-door-neighbors (34%)," says James Fowler of University of California.

The study showed that one person's happiness affects up to three degrees of separation...meaning your happiness could legitimately affect friends of your friend's friends.

What this means for me is that each one of my eighty-eight friends on my quilt has been affected by my happiness. In theory, that will affect each one of their friends (let's say they have eighty-eight). That happiness, in turn will affect each one of those people's "eighty-eight" friends.

So...that makes about 59,969,536 happier people.

I have a hunch 59,969,536 happy people could probably make this world a happier place. I'm not sure about you, but that is enough to keep me smiling. And I just might need to get a much, much bigger quilt.

Start spreading the happiness now...

Monday, March 1, 2010

Forgiving Fruit


'Tis a lesson you should heed,
Try, try again.
If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again.

- Thomas H. Palmer


Grapes. Such a forgiving little fruit. If you eat a bad grape, all you have to do is try again until you find a good grape. With grapes, the bitterness only lasts a moment, until just one more try yields delightful sweetness.

This "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again" mentality that is subconsciously enabled when eating grapes speaks volumes to the power of persistence. If we are willing to persist with such a trivial venture, then why is it so difficult to persevere in bigger issues?

The terrific thing about perseverance is that it makes victory all the sweeter. Frederick Douglass said,

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress."

If the first grape you tasted was a bitter one, and you just gave up on grapes altogether, you would miss out on enjoying the sweetness a perfect grape has to offer.

Romans 5:3-6 encourages us to "Rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.

And hope does not disappoint us,

because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."

So as you face challenges, bitterness, and struggles of any sort, persevere! There may be something sweet just around the corner.

Friday, February 19, 2010

A White Stone for a Dark Lake


“I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” – Revelation 2:17

Names. What is the significance? My name means "dark lake." It seems that this counters my cheery and jocund nature. Why wasn't I named "bright sea" like my sister, Morgan? It seems as though God might know a little bit more than my parents...who would have guessed? Take a look at what happens over and over in scripture.

"The women will call me happy." So she named him Asher. (Genesis 30:13)
"I have borne him six sons." So she named him Zebulun. (Genesis 30:20)
She named him Reuben, saying, "It is because the LORD has seen my misery." (Genesis 29:32)

I was recently challenged to "live into my name." This thoroughly intrigued me, because I know that my parents did not sit in the hospital saying, "We have been to the dark lake...her name shall be Lindsay." But somehow, my name, which means "dark lake," speaks clearly to my identity. Unlike the planned names in the Old Testament, no divine inspiration was given to my parents that they should name me Lindsay.

Just this past week I received news that I will be going to Uganda, East Africa for five months this fall. I have felt undoubtedly called to go there for so many years, and now it is finally my time.Oh, Africa. Such colorful culture and beautiful people, who are sadly recovering from the terrible darkness of genocide and influence of radical Islam. I do not wish to jump to conclusions, but...oh, wait. Is it possible that Africa's beautiful people and terrible oppression has anything to do with the "dark" part of my name? I think yes. Oh, Uganda. The pearl of Africa, settled right on Lake Victoria. Where? Oh...Lake Victoria. How ironic...

On a different note, my parents actually almost named me Ruby, and I have always been a little bit sad they did not. Ruby. What a great name. I love that name. It means "precious stone." Ruby, precious stone. How great is that? I want that name.

Regardless of how much you do or do not love your name, or to what extent you have begun to "live" your name's meaning, it is an undeniable truth that names, and nicknames, are special. Being named Lindsay, it is only natural for almost everyone I meet to immediately call me "Linds." Be that what it may, my preferred nickname is simply "Lin." I am only called this by my immediate family members and my closest friends. I might even let my husband call me that someday. It is personal. Unique.

What most people do not know is that God has a sweet, intimate, and secret name for each of us. And as Revelation 2:17 says, God will give everyone a stone with a new name on it, a secret between each person and God. "For no one but God sees what the man is...it is only when the man becomes his name that God gives him the stone with his name upon it, for then first can he understand what his name signifies...such a name cannot be given until the man is the name." -George MacDonald

Live into your name. If not the one your parents gave you, then the one God is giving you. There is an intimate secret to be discovered between you and God. I look forward to someday receiving my white rock, my personal "precious stone..."

Maybe, just maybe, I'll get to be called Ruby after all.

Monday, February 8, 2010

A Beautiful Disagreement


When it snows,you have two choices: shovel or make snow angels.

To give credit where credit is due, my family is pretty artistic.

One of my grandmothers is a seamstress who also paints and makes porcelain dolls.
My other grandmother writes comedic stories and reads them dramatically.
My father grew up singing and is an aficionado of antiques.
My mother scrapbooks,taught me piano, and sang on the radio with my father.
My older sister plays three instruments and is a beautiful operatic soloist.
I play the violin, perform theatrically, make crafts, and am a bit of a culinary artist.

All of that is to say that my younger sister has the keenest of eyes for naturally beautiful opportunities that make for splendid photographs. The photograph shown is one that she has called "Find the Simple Things in Life." First of all, the title itself is intriguing, not suggesting that life is simple, but rather that simplicity can be found...and finding it is so much more enjoyable than if simplicity was just normal. I doubt she put that much thought into it, but it is great nonetheless.

Take a look at her picture. About a half of a second after looking at the photo, you will see the snowy smile that the wind has blown onto the old brick wall. But at first glance, all that this photo is made up of is

snow and bricks,
white and red,
soft and rigid.

Snow. White, wet, soft, silent, pure, fresh snow.
Bricks. Red, solid, imposing, unwavering, old bricks.

The snow falls fresh each time, and coats the earth with something new; snow unifies the world by making it seem that the whole world is made of one substance. Its whitness whispers of purity and serenity, the result of being made clean and new. Snow can be formed, shaped, played in, and caught on the tongue.

Maybe the bricks are a fortress, a boundary, a guard that we have put up to protect ourselves from the elements. Maybe their color symbolizes trouble, pain, and calamity...wearing the old bricks down little by little. The bricks exist for function, not fashion, and have existed so for years.

On the day the wind blew the pure snow onto the dirty wall, a beautiful disagreement was formed. The new befriended the old, the silent conversed with the imposing, the ever-changing changed the changeless.

And together, they smiled.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Aprons: Oracion Mental


Be who you are and be that well.
- St. Francis de Sales


This is the essence of oracion mental, or the Prayer of Quiet. Everyone needs a good rest, but often we fear that stopping to rest would cause us to neglect our work, appear lazy, or miss deadlines.

Being is what we do when we "do nothing." Being is healthy. Being is essential to maintaining inner peace, serenity, and most importantly, sanity.

If you subscribe to Biblical wisdom, then let me call your attention to the oft quoted verse in Psalm 46:10:

Be still and know that I am God.

BE still. Or in the aforementioned words of St. Francis de Sales, "BE who you are." Be. Be. Be. What is the importance of all this being? The ability to "be" is an amazing opportunity. When we rest, we are then given the chance to return in freedom to the crazy world.

Perhaps my favorite story of escapist rest is one of the famous evangelist John Wesley's mother, Suzanna Wesley. Mother of nineteen children (wow...), Suzanna never neglected the need for retreat and solitude. As you can imagine, she didn't exactly have the time to go for a long walk, or to escape to a chapel to pray.

Instead, she simply tossed her apron over her head. A simple and creative escape, really. From behind her apron, Suzanna was free to contemplate, rest, and be. Then when the apron came back down, Suzanna was renewed and ready to go back to her unending tasks of cooking, cleaning, and caring for her brood of nineteen.

Your ticket to escaping reality for a few minutes? As simple as digging your apron out of the closet and putting it over your head. (And when the apron comes down, I personally recommend finding some new recipes and cooking up a storm! But that will be a topic for another day.)

So may you find your quiet. May you rest in the oracion mental. Creatively uncover your own method of respite. "Be who you are and be that well."

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Orange Peels


Our world hears

too much analyst and too little artist.


Robert K. Greenleaf wrote this in his article Servant Leadership. So many people are apt to complain, analyze, and criticize. I have these tendencies as well, but I've begun to realize that cynicism accomplishes...nothing, really. Political tensions, ethics debates, and injustices on all sides certainly give grounds for skepticism and pessimism. However, I issue you a challenge to creatively view the world positively.

A very wise, witty, and philosophical friend of mine - during an amusing rant about joy - once made a great comment about peeling oranges.

He decided that we should be fully able to be astronomically joyful and thankful 24/7. Not just when we get a good gift, or when somebody makes us laugh or smile...nope. All the time.

"It's like peeling an orange," he said. He continued with something like: "When you hold it in your hand, think of how it got to you. Be thankful for the rains that made it grow. When you peel it, be thankful for the workers who picked it. With every bite, be thankful for the complex naural, supernatural, and human network that has given you that orange."

Enjoy the wonder and majesty and hugeness of the universe. Enjoy the happy little smiling feeling you get (really, don't deny it) when you drink a cup of tea. Cynicism knocks the joy right out of life. So be creative. Think of ways to change situations rather than analyze the heck out of them.

So take a sip of tea and stop ranting. It's a little bit like peeling an orange.