300 days of beauty, day 5

I never tire of my kids' performances. When I was young, I loved to create plays and dances and skits and backyard swing-set and pool acrobatics. I have fond memories doing these with my brother and my cousin, Debi. When Debi and I would create our routines, my brother would become the "lighting and sound specialist" although I don't know that we used that term. I find it funny that my son has often performed with his sisters, but as of late, he's quite happy being the sound and light guy too.

Very soon, much sooner than I am ready, these unabashed, vibrant performances will cease. Bittersweet. Nothing lasts forever, that's just the reality. More joy and wonder on the way, the goodness is not only in these years, it continues, but looks different.

But, if your sweet child invites you to a performance, make the time. You're not too busy. These moments are so fleeting. I may have watched reenacted musical renditions of "Hard-Knock Life" from the new Annie more times than I can count, but I love it every time.

with abandon...all in

"Praise his name with dancing..." 

Psalm 149:3

I admire my six-year-old. Her world never ceases to be vibrant. She runs and walks and swims and talks and sings and creates and dances with abandon. I love it.

We spent time last fall in New York City. In Washington Heights, there is a studio which offers drop-in ballet classes on a donation basis. Such a great program! Belle attended a class with her cousin and loved every second. The pictures my cousin took are a perfect likeness of my girl. She's all in.

Every life can be an act of worship, art to a dying world around us. I don't have my daughter's personality, but I can still live with abandon for my Lord. It will look different for me, but I want it to be a masterpiece. I want to believe in the vision and purpose of the master painter. Glob upon glob of paint, layer after layer, seemingly nothing, but ending in the realm of glorious.

I want to praise His name with the art He's given me. Without fear, with patient trust, with a heart full of hope and joy and purpose. And when I do fear and I doubt and I feel discouraged, sad, and insignificant, I want to engage with my Lord with abandon. Our mess is part of the masterpiece too.

I look at my daughter's freeze-frame blurried form as she leaps across the dance floor. She's all in. I can feel it and I smile. I hope she lives like that as she grows up. I certainly hope I do too.



p.s. I loved Emily P. Freeman's book, A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art You Were Made To Live. We all have art, I highly recommend this book.