The last two days I have been working with a dear friend, who knows a bit of our financial woes. I say working, but I use the term loosely. She is paying me to play. Create. I never once was instructed on the use of the cash register, but instead I sat in a cluttered, little space, at a card table with a textured top and burnt my fingers with a glue gun, covered my hands with sepia colored ink, and rolled pliable porcelain through a pasta machine.
Today I made my very own altered art. I thought of a friend the whole time I was carefully creating. Tears rolled down a Mona Lisa face, and a baby tucked inside a rose petal, clung to an angel's heart. I thought of old songs as I wired buttons to the wooden hemline of my creation, and shared the lyrics with my friend, the artist, who sat across the table. I felt inspired, pensive, and content while Ellery played in the background.
Today I got a call to go back to work at the hospital. I feel anxious, reluctantly thankful, and conflicted. I want to create. For now however, I must content myself with caring for sickly creation.
About Me
- tomirose
- I'm a wife of a wonderful man, mom to three awesome children. I like to laugh, encourage, and I would love to write. I think community is a wonderful thing, and I'd like people to be less cynical about church, not THE church, but the institution that we call the church. I think soul patches, piercings and tattoos are kinda cool; attitudes are not. Sometimes I lie in bed and think about weird things.. like why I like the taste of bubblemint gum, but despise the taste of our youngest son's bubblemint flavored toothpaste, or if our older children have already met their future spouses, how amazing it is that I've been married to the same man for thirty-two years, and why dryer lint looks the way it does. I hate having cold feet, being too hot, and stubbing my pinkie toe. I like to read pretty much anything but angsty poetry, well no I lied..not about the angsty poetry, but I don't much like to read biographies either. Laundry is the bane of my existence, along with cleaning out the refrigerator, and just plain cleaning.
1 comment:
Henri Nouwan may be of some help at this juncture. He worked in L'Arche communities for many years. He's a constant inspiration to me.
"All his life two voices competed inside him. One encourage him to succeed and achieve. The other called him simply to rest in the comfort that he was "the beloved" of God"
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