Is the pursuit of beauty worth of our time? I asked myself this question awhile back because I was honestly wondering if creating and celebrating beauty was a valid thing to add to the list of all the tasks I must accomplish daily as a mother of three (soon to be four) small children. Truly…
My friend Sarah, a Canadian by birth, lives at the top end of Australia, thousands of kilometres away from me. Recently she had a layover between Canada and the Northern Territory and we were able to spend an afternoon catching each other up on our lives since we’d last met. We sat sipping frappes in…
As a graphic designer, I smile when I think of my job in Massimo Vignelli’s eloquent terms. Indeed, in my own small way, I am a crusader, a soldier, a world-changer. I am not merely another person compelled to join the masses of humanity that must sell eight or more hours of every day, just to make enough money to pay for basic necessities. I have a life-changing calling.
I had been pursuing my passion of performing for the purpose of exalting myself, rather than pursuing God and allowing Him to use my passion for the purpose of glorifying Him… But this time I will wait with eager faith for God to reveal how He wants to use my passion for the performing arts to glorify Himself.
It’s scary because I’m not perfect. I still have so much life to live and so many lessons to learn! But (what if?) God is putting stories on my heart and whispering, “Please write – or draw – this for Me.” And so I try…try to write stories and draw pictures that capture a tiny bit of that “irresistible” vision of womanhood.
From the moment we found out we were pregnant with our first little one, we knew we wanted to have a homebirth. Many of of our close friends had had their babies at home and since there weren’t any factors prohibiting it (high-risk pregnancy, etc.), it was almost a given.
But then…the unforeseen happened.
There is nothing more satisfying than the feeling that I get when I do the things that God created me to do. I feel alive, and the fears that often keep me back fade away in the confidence that He gives in doing, in being. These are the passions that make us who we are. This is the feeling of being where we belong, of doing what we were made for. But it is finding purpose within our passion that keeps us going in the right direction.
Curled up on the couch across from my dad, I bring up a nerve-wracking subject. My stomach twists as I slowly weave words, not about boys or privileges, but of books and pens put to paper. I ask him what he thinks I should do about it, about my writing. I talk about it as if it was something between a terminal illness and an upcoming coronation. What do I do about this inevitable, undying, powerfully pending thing?
Apparently, I taught my brother to read while playing school. He was three. I was five. I don’t remember it, but that’s how story goes.
But I didn’t want to be a teacher. I liked helping Mom correct my siblings’ math. And I enjoyed teaching Sunday School. But I was going to be a nurse.
For as long as I can remember, I have found nothing soothes the heart and relaxes the mind like slipping away into a quiet place, surrounded by nature. There I can listen, and let the cares that burden the heart slip away with the wind. It is my hiding place, where I feel close to…
I’ve been playing the piano since I was six. Like any other ordinary student, I would forget to practice all week until the night before lesson day. But after my eleventh birthday, my perspective changed with my grandparents’ generous gift of harp lessons.
I’ve walked alongside these women. Wept with them. Prayed with them. I daily encounter people who are lost and blind in their pain because they can’t see or accept the light of Who God is and who He made them and called them to be.