I went to a creative workshop this weekend. It was a kind of
art class, but also about journaling and listening to the Holy Spirit.
Creativity, journaling and prayer—right up my alley, right? Not if wanting to
run crying from the room half way through the first day is any indication! And
I did. Fortunately, I was as far from the door as one could get in our crowded
artsy-cluttered room.
When it comes to difficult situations, folks usually come to
a “fight or flight” decision. I am usually a flight risk. I’ve never considered
myself a fighter. In fact, I give up too easily when it comes to confrontation,
disagreements and challenges.
As I sat there at my workshop, staring at my blank page,
having no idea what to do while everyone around me buzzed cheerfully and
excitedly about their work, admiring their neighbors’ creativity and ingenuity,
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.
It was like that bad dream I often have before an important
event. In the dream, I’m a young student who forgot to study for an important
test. As I get to school and turn the test sheet over, I am horrified that I
cannot answer a single question.
Thankfully, at the beginning of the workshop, our instructor
read from a children’s book called, The Dot. In it, a teacher encourages a
child who doesn’t feel like an artist to just make a dot on her page. “Now sign
it,” the teacher tells her. The child goes on to create amazing art with her
dots and later encourages a young boy who doesn’t feel like an artist to just
draw a line, “then sign it.”
As I stared at my blank page, feeling like that young child,
I dipped my trembling brush into the pain and made a swoosh. I soon finished
the page and began another and another.
I still feel like my pages look like a kindergartner created
them, but I love my new journal. It is a part of me. It has many more pages
that I need to finish, and I plan to discipline myself to do it. Unlike
our instructor, this will probably
be the only journal of this kind that I will make, but I know that the Holy
Spirit has lots more to say to me as I complete it.
At the end of the workshop, I had to make yet another fight
or flight decision. We were instructed to pass around our beautiful nametags we
had been given as came in the day before. Each person was to write a word or
phrase about the others on the backs of their nametags. I had been so wrapped
up in myself and my own fears, insecurities and frustrations, I had barely
spoken to most of the other women in our class. What would I be able to write
on their nametags? And mine would surely come back blank because they wouldn’t
know what to write on mine! Again, I wanted to run crying from the room.
But I didn’t bolt. I looked at each nametag as they came
around and I looked at each woman and I realized I had seen enough of each of
them to be able to write something sincere on their nametags. And when I got
mine back, it had words on it that brought me to tears… words that made me
realize that maybe I’m not such a flight risk after all!
