My son is an artist. I might have known when he discovered the sublime in a strand of ribbon. Since the first time those precious hands held a pencil, we began to see it too. Those tender faces formed entirely of circles, a piano askance and a view of the church choir from the balcony scratched on the back of the bulletin. We were continually captivated by his skill that seemed to come from nowhere.
Nowadays his creations seem to have no bounds. Beautiful films, a giant sculpture of his fiancé’s nose, a clever box of drawers made from a single block of wood, beautiful knives forged in our backyard. He delights in the gifts of God—his talents, His elements.
Each one has been given something. Each one is capable of surprising herself with a creation that seems to have come from nowhere. It comes from God, of course, for He has provided His children the power and capability to birth in His name, to bring forth the miraculous.
I read a quote about being an artist once that has never left me. It said that some people use a brush or a lathe or a musical instrument to create and some are artists of living itself, that their very way of being on this earth is a work of art. I want it all. I want to create and be created unceasingly on the canvas of this precious life with God.
See…I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with ability and intelligence, with knowledge and all craftsmanship, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver, and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, to work in every craft. Exodus 31:2-5
Meeting God at the Park 