I had the amazing good fortune of meeting a young lady by the name of Penny and her brother Alex yesterday lunchtime. I think Penny was about three or four years old. Alex was five.

It was the quintessential perfect Spring day in Canberra. Clear blue skies. Temperature in the low 20s. No wind to speak of. It was the kind of day that brings out the pretty flowery dresses for the first time in the season. It was a gorgeous day.

I decided to sit outside, soak up some vitamin D and engage in some people-watching while I ate my lunch and had barely settled onto the bench before two sweet little faces popped out from behind the nearby bushes.

Penny: There’s a monster!!!

Me: Ooh where?

Penny: Right behind you!

Me: Oh no! How big is it? Is it scary?

Penny: (holds her hand up to indicate how big) this big! It has teeth and goes grrrrrr!

Me: Does it have boogly eyes?

Penny: Oh yes! Big ones!

Me: What colour is it?

Penny: Purple with white and pink stripes!

Alex: Here it comes! Look out!

Penny and Me: AAAAH!

Around the end of my seat came the cutest little monster I have ever seen…it had curly blonde pigtails and a precocious grin.

Monster: GRRRRR!

Penny: We have to poke it with a stick! (at this point Penny is brandishing a twig she had liberated from a nearby bush)

Alex: YES!

The monster turned out to be Penny and Alex’s little sister…I guess she must have been about 2ish. It was a good thing she had a squidgey little belly, because she did indeed get poked. The more she roared, the more they poked her, and the more they all giggled. It was wonderful. Like music.

This scene went on for a good 10-15 minutes before their mum came to get them, and told them to stop bothering the lady.

I think that meeting Penny the monster-slayer was possibly the high point of my week.

Playing monsters and letting my imagination run wild fed my inner artist this week, and for that I am grateful.

I’m sitting here procrastinating about writing an assignment that is supposed to talk about solving the Synoptic Problem, all the while fretting about the support agreement that I am supposed to be writing when I get back to work next week (I’ve never written one of those before). I’m procrastinating because I’d much rather be writing my own material…writing my own books and drawing my own pictures.

A Twitter conversation a couple of days ago sparked some memories of the books I used to love to read when I was a kid, and that still inspire me today to write and to draw. I thought I’d share (and procrastinate some more)

I have always loved to read; and I have always sought inspiration and refuge in equal parts between the pages of books.

From the moment I was able to borrow library books from the school library I maintained a bag-load of glossy tomes to keep me entertained. I remember during one phase I borrowed masses and masses of craft books that were packed full of cheesy 70s paper mâché and macrame projects, and I think I drove my mother insane with requests to make things.

Other times I devoured novels and found myself hiding in the leaves of the magic faraway tree or exploring foreign lands with characters I met nestled within the black and white lines of text. I’d lie in bed at night and wish that the people I met in those books were real and that my dolls would come to life. (Am I the only one to have done that?)

Some books left more of a lasting impression than others.

Some books I borrowed over and over and my name appeared on the borrowing card more than anyone else’s for the years I was at that school. All of the books that I borrowed repeatedly had similar characteristics,  and I borrowed them for the same reason. They inspired me. They made me dream and imagine a future of action. The funny thing is that these books continue to inspire me thirty years later.

The first set of books are picture books written and illustrated by Bill Peet (Walt Disney’s best writer and storyboard man). Beautiful rhyming stories accompanied by vivid colored pencil illustrations. Whimsical stories. I still borrowed these books right up until I was in grade 6. I would read them and dream of writing my own books and drawing the pictures to go with them.

The other book that I borrowed over and over was an equally whimsical piece of work with page after page of gorgeous watercolour paintings. A book that had me searching under logs and within canopies of leaves for little people for many years.

I bought myself a copy of this book a couple of years back, and I still look at it from time to time. Such remarkable attention to detail and beautiful artwork! Such imagination!

Ever since I was a child I have dreamed of becoming a writer and artist. These books fed that dream.

Sometimes when I get busy writing technical specifications and business cases I forget to feed the dreams of my inner artist and they begin to wither, and I get tired and jaded.

I am learning that it’s important to keep dreaming. To nurture the creative connection to our Creator. To allow that connection to be expressed.

The books I want to write and the art I want to create these days bear little resemblance to my childhood dreams, but the desire to write and to create is as strong as ever…….now, if I could just knock off this assignment and stop worrying about work that I don’t need to do until next week…….

What inspires you? Do you think it’s important to be inspired in life? Even as an adult?

Fifteen years ago I left full-time employment to take a year off before I had kids. At the time I worked with a girl called Phillippa Pratten … we haven’t kept in touch over the years, I suspect she is now married and perhaps living somewhere else. At the time she created a beautiful piece of art as a parting gift and as a blessing.

I kept it on my desk at home for awhile, but over the years and a couple of house moves later it wound up in my desk drawer. I’m not sure why, but I remembered the piece last night and I pulled it out and propped it up on my desk again.

I meditated on the blessing this morning while I wrote my morning pages and was blessed all over again by the beautiful artwork. All these years later, the art and the blessing worked on my heart all over again! I love the way art and creativity can continue to speak for years.

Phillippa, wherever you are my friend, may God bless you! I hope you are still creating beautiful art, you have such a talent!

Do you have a piece of art that speaks blessing to you?

Part of my plan for this year has been to make sure I make time for my art. It creates a space for me to slow down and to worship and connect with God in an entirely different way to the academic, intellectual (sometimes dry and boring) way that seems to be the autopilot default for doing the God thing. Art is what fills my tank and brings my faith to life. Creating connects me to the Creator.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been revamping my art website and converting it to a blog format that will incorporate my graphite portrait work  as well as the visual journalling, design and other little creative forays, so that I can share my art and encourage you to get creative too.

I haven’t quite sorted the tagging out yet, but the categories are all listed over on the right hand side for navigating.

Pop over and check it out. I plan on writing some longer posts about worshipping through art later in the year. Click  the pic to go and have a poke around! Let me know what you think.

I woke up this morning feeling a bit out of sorts. I felt bummed about being at the tail end of my holidays, my body was sore after a mountain bike outing, and to top it all off I hadn’t slept well. I felt apathetic and lethargic. BLERG.

I don’t like feeling that way, so I decided to take a proactive approach to rewriting my “script” for the day. I thought about going for a run to blow out the cobwebs, but it was hot out and I thought better of it. Then Nancy Missler’s words came to me:

Private worship is the key to joy

I felt anything but joyful. So I listened to that little bit of a prompt and got my materials together and engaged in some art-based worship. Here’s the result (click for a larger view)

Here’s how you you can use private worship to bring joy to your life:

1. Gather the things you will need to engage in private worship (can be art related, recorded music, candles, instruments, clear a space to dance etc, whatever helps you connect.).
2. Find a quiet spot where you won’t be interrupted for half an hour or so.
3. Spend a couple of moments in confession and getting ready to worship (Psalm 24:3-4).
4. Using whatever method you have chosen, focus completely on God and his attributes, what he has done for you, what he requires of you. Perhaps you need to just let all of your anger, sorrow and frustrations tumble out and know that God is listening (check out the Psalms, David did this a lot.)
5. Make sure you allow times of mental quietness to allow God to speak to you.

I find that connecting with God in this way brings me much needed perspective. It brings me peace and restfulness that I can find nowhere else. It reminds me that God is absolutely worthy of this kind of connection on a much more regular basis…not just when *I* need something. And yet God is gracious to sooth an antsy spirit.

Question: Do you engage in private worship?