If there ever was a time in my life that art was therapy for me, this is it. The whirlwind of changes that have occurred in my life in recent months and weeks have been, to say the least, difficult. In all times when I begin to feel disconnected from life, from God, from control of my own world, I can always turn to the one thing God has used in my life time and time again as therapy: Art and creativity. From my yarn stash to my kiln room, once again I have distracted myself with the work of my hands. Something positive and beautiful and un-homicidal. I headed back to my kiln room. I began to create what was in my heart. I grabbed metals, glass, paint, fibers, books,looms, tools, my idea journal and my pen and went to work. The results were a new journey that I really didn’t see coming. I moved furniture, organized supplies, made plans and wrote lists. Maybe a new small business doing something I love will be the outcome of the path that God has led me down. It keeps me smiling and helps me to find beauty in the world that often hides itself in the hard and unimaginable.
Metal coatings, patina, glazes, beads, closures and Inka golds of all shades became a huge part of my days and long nights. I grabbed beads, wire and silks and mixed them with metals and wood and ceramics. I put my hands on viles and jars of glitters and glass and glues and paints and feathers and began to create shiny, glittery, pretty things. Resin, yarns, beautiful papers, inks,hardware, old jewelry and watch parts and every blingy sparkly thing I could get my hands on. I began to take notes, write a plan and before I knew it was happening, I was starting to create things to fill my Etsy store and to Stock a Craft show or two; That very thing that my heart has desired to do. I have been too busy worrying to get down to the business of living out the visions that God put on my heart. Its fabulous how the spirit knows what our minds wont accept and our hearts won’t believe. It’s time I let go of my worry and trust that Christ is the writer of the end of this story, not me.
As I began to create these things, I would find my hands working, my heart praying and my mind pondering the things that God was teaching me and using me for. Its become kind of harmony of sorts, like a musical composition that wrote its self in such a way that I can hear every note in my spirit. It transforms my sadness into joy, my broken-ness into beauty and my bitterness into compassion. Mostly it reminds me how blessed I am.
Thank You God, so very much