1.10.2020

Like of Old







Your body
Small and round, soft.
The root of all creative acts
in each breath, called forth
in pulsing red and warmth.
Mystery made manifest
in each sparking cell.

Your life a net to hold it all.
A marvel formed, 
and Holy our place 
near
to witness.


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Years ago, when I was a young mama of young babies who needed each and every part of me, I shared something on here that an older mother had told me, something that sank deep and which remains still. We had been talking about life seasons and creativity and how hard it is to make or create anything when one is everything to little bodies. She encouraged me not by saying those bland words that so many do, that someday my ship would come, and all the time in the world would flow with it. Instead, she looked warmly at me with littles clinging to my legs and said, "When you're older, you'll look back and find that in many ways, this was the most creative time of your life." She reminded me of what I already knew, that no amount of making or creating, as satisfying and joyful and God-honoring and God-reflecting as it is, can compare with the creation right there with me. That sustaining life along with the Giver of that life, creating a life for life He created, is something singular and unparalleled.

Now my first littles are big, and those pockets for creativity should be more frequent. It's more my laziness and poor choices and less those small, sticky hands that keep me from making these days. Even though Christmas and New Year's have become my hotbed of making the last few years, last year I was too swamped to make a thing. This year, I felt the same. So when I actually sat down to make a few gifts on the tenth day* of Christmas, I felt like the ball had started rolling again. And then, mid-stitch, Skylark had another status epilepticus seizure lasting 45 minutes, and I was off to the hospital, and then the household was felled by the flu, and now it's time to start h'learning again, and so it goes.

I remembered that conversation from years ago when I came to the machine, the needle having been sunk in fabric for a week while we tended to each other in our sickness. And I Knew, and then I squeezed Skylark and wrote a clumsy poem, because that is what I do.





 


*Edited because I put "two days after Christmas." That's a difference of a week! I'm still flu-hazy.

9 comments :

cadie said...

So glad Skylark is okay. Sorry that y'all have had so much sickness! The flu can be really miserable. I hope you're on the mend.

Your words are food for thought. Especially in the case of the most recent care-giving job I started, which is not self-gratifying like some others, it is tempting to feel like working on a painting or anything me-centered would be a better use of my time than repeatedly squirting syringes of water in someone's mouth or laboriously attempting to get them to eat a bite.

heidiann(e) said...

Oh, Abby!
Your post brought tears to my eyes.

And, oh, little Glark! Is she okay? Praying for peace, clarity and health.

Love to you all.

Abigail said...

Thanks, Cadie. We are finally starting to get back on our feet! As for this post, you're actually one of the people
I thought of when I wrote it. Along with the obvious application to people tending children, your current work tending to bigger people sprang to mind, particularly because, unlike children, there aren't as many "feel-good" rewards built into the labor, and yet your hands are quite literally sustaining human life, which is a beautiful and worthy task. With our culture's decreased value of life, labor such as yours, in which you affirm and sustain the work of the Creator's hands with the work of your own hands, is profound. God has given her a certain reach of days, and even though the value of her current existence cannot be measured in the ways we usually measure joy/value/worth, it is there, and you are alongside.

I want to be careful, too, not to denigrate the creative acts in the process. God has given you gifts of empathy and mercy, but He's also given you an enviable gift with your artist's hands, and your paintings are not just "me-centered" selfishness. They are beautiful expressions of creation and a reflection of your Maker! It's just that so often we hear people define themselves as "artists" or "writers" based on a gift they received freely, and yet those who pour out self in service to others often are not glorified in the same way, nor do they receive the adulation that's so easy to give to those with striking artistic gifts. This post was a reminder to myself that both are worthy, and that the particular honor of caring for living people is just that-- an honor.

Heidi,
Thanks for your concern! Glark is rambunctious and fractious and jolly, just like normal. Simple febrile seizures are generally harmless, as they're a natural response to a viral or bacterial infection. Not as much is known about complex febrile seizures, and the only concern is that recent studies suggest that complex febrile seizures that last over 30 minutes (go figure) can damage the hippocampus and increase chances of future epilepsy by 30-40 %. Both of her seizures so far have been long and have presented as focal-onset seizures, so they fall into this camp, but it's just one of those things over which we have no control, like pretty much everything...which requires more of Isaiah 26:3. :)

Sandy said...

Oh my. Poor darling, and how scary!! For everyone. I am praying for Skylark right now. That her body has been protected from or is healing from any damage that a seizure like that would like to do— and that it would be her last.

It’s so interesting to think about creativity and all that is wrapped up in its definition. It’s something I think a lot about- more formally now, as an art teacher, but as an artist and then, as a mama who for a very long season was struggling to understand what it could look like if the compulsion was there, but the time was not!

I look back on hot, sticky days, with lots of littles afoot and can see it with a different perspective now that those same humans are grown (with their own endeavors pulling them away from my skirts and giving me actual time and physical space to make things that more concretely fit the definition.) But when I think of how fulfilled I was, creatively, at that time, I think I can see all that was being made— all the time and every day. Words of a book read aloud spin round in their heads and make ACTUAL adventures and memories. A cape tied round naked shoulders produced an instant monarch. A meal of bright greens and deep purples and baked goods formed by floury hands. What beauty lies there!! Words woven just so to justly tell these messy and mighty tales (or better— a poem!)... a shot, snapped (what timeless treasures. What art!) This life of yours (that life of mine, now different as wee ones became big and now tie their own shoes, trading capes for basketballs and electric guitars and needs for self-sufficiency. Sad in a way,) this life!! It’s ALL creating, and you pour into it with every kind word and correction, with all the braided hair and wiped faces (even the ones left dirty!) when you dump toys in the tub and light a fire and cut flowers for a glass jar.

Our lives are our collaborative masterpiece. We work with The Great Artist himself to make our mark. I think yours is breathtaking<3

Abigail said...

Well expressed and exactly so! We must, as reflections of our Maker, find joy in making, no matter what form it takes. This is one reason why I don't think I'll ever stop making gingerbread people on Christmas Eve, even though, with nine now, it takes me all night. :)

I bought Edith Schaeffer's The Hidden Art of Homemaking quite a while ago but have yet to do anything but skim it. Even so, I'd recommend it to any young mother learning the happy balance of creative mothering.

So to beat a dead horse, here are a few quotes from the book (because I like them):

Remember that He who created you to be creative gave you the things with which to make beauty and gave you the sensitivity to appreciate and respond to His creation. Creativity is His gift to you and the 'raw materials' to be put together in various ways are His gift to you as well.
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It is true that all men are created in the image of God, but Christians are supposed to be conscious of that fact, and being conscious of it, should recognize the importance of living artistically, aesthetically, and creatively, as creative creatures of the Creator. If we have been created in the image of an Artist, then we should look for expressions of artistry, and be sensitive to beauty, responsive to what has been created for us.

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Is a Christian- one who communicates daily with the Creator- to divorce himself from the things God created and intended man to have, and which demonstrate the fact that man has been made in the image of God? In other words, are we who have been made in the image of our creator to be less creative than those who do not know the Creator? The Christian should have more vividly expressed creativity in his daily life.

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There are various art forms we may or may not have talent for, may or may not have time for, and we may or may not be able to express ourselves in, but we ought to consider this fact-that whether we choose to be an environment or not, we are. We produce an environment other people have to live in. We should be conscious of the fact that this environment which we produce by our very 'being' can affect the people who live with us or work with us.

Abigail said...

p.s.
And, really, the book is not useful just for young mothers, but for anyone needing encouragement in creating and appreciating beauty. Looking back, I can see that it would have been heartening for me to read years ago, by expressing clearly what I knew already in my bones.

Molly said...

Continuing to pray for precious Skylark and for a full, healthy recovery. She is, "fearfully and wonderfully made!" (Psalm 139:14). We praise God for her and the plans He has for her. (Jeremiah 29:11)

I loved those quotes by Edith Schaeffer. They give much to reflect upon no matter what season in life you find yourself. Thank you for sharing them.

Each day is a gift of its own, Sunrise to Sunset. We prayerfully lift up ALL in your family for days of joy and peace at rest.

Much love & hugs!

Rebecca said...

We love this dear and precious girl!

Abigail said...

Thank you, Molly! We are thankful for your faithful prayers!

Rebecca,
She loves you back! :)