Mrs. Hart worked hard to bring order to the line of happy kindergarteners. "I have a surprise that is waiting for you outside."
Excitedly the children began shouting, even jumping up and down and clapping in anticipation of what awaited them outside that steel door. Walking down the line, she gave each child a big piece of paper that was shiny on one side. Chubby little hands took hold of the papers that were nearly as long as they were tall. One child took his and noticed immediately that waving his paper back and forth created a loud rattling sound. Before Mrs. Hart could even say anything, many of children began doing the same thing. She wondered if she could even quiet them down. Yet her heart delighted in each noisy one.
"Children" she said so that she could be heard above the racket. Children, do you want to know why I just gave you this big paper?Outside I have a station for each of you on the playground that has three colors of paint in a tray. They are primary colors. Red, yellow and blue. With these three colors all other colors are created. "Who knows what a rainbow is?"
Sarah raised her hand. "I saw one after it rained the other day."
"So what did you see Sarah?
I saw lots of pretty colors in the blue sky. There was purple and blue and yellow and pink and orange and...
"Thank you, Sarah. Yes, you are right. A rainbow usually comes after a bad rain storm and it is full of all kinds of colors. Today with our three colors we can make all those colors by mixing them together. I want you to put your fingers into the paint and paint whatever you want. You can draw real things or you can do scribbles or make shapes or even a rainbow if you want, anything is ok. I just want you to have fun. Can you do that for me? "
"Yes!" they all shouted together.
No sooner had the door swung open when the children started pushing to get outside. Their teacher moved out of the way to keep from being knocked over or a child accidentally getting hurt.
Each child raced to find an open station so that they could start making their masterpiece. Several children had a hard time finding a spot to make their own and Mrs. Hart gently led them to a place still open.
Most children immediately stuck both palms in the paint and slapped them right on the paper. Just being allowed to put their hands in the paint was exciting. Some seemed amazed by their own hand print and stopped to look at their hands and then put them back down. Others thought swirling their hands around was great fun and marveled as their three colors began to make other colors.
As Mrs. Hart moved her gaze across the group of busy children, she noticed there were those who were more intentional and would gently dip just one finger in a color and draw a picture. Some were houses and flowers and even a few were rainbows. No child's picture was the same. Their patient loving teacher had made room for them to express themselves, allowing each to be who they were created to be, without judgment or shame or comparison.
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Mrs. Hart was once my teacher. She loved her students and we loved her. I remember finger painting and how much fun it was. I can't remember what or how I painted. Was I the eager one who slapped both hands into the paint? I don't think so. I didn't like having slimy or sticky things all over my hands like that. I still don't. To this day, I can't wash dishes until every speck that could become a floaty in my sink water is removed. If one gets in there by accident, I will most likely drain the sink and start over. So when I consider that, I was probably the more intentional child who enjoyed painting the rainbow one finger at a time.
I was born to create. We all are in some capacity. We are made in image of our Creator and there is a deposit of His creativity in us that is to be a gift for blessing ourselves and others. For many of us, we have believed we are not creative and thus the lie has held us back from being able to express ourselves the way we were designed. Even as an older child, I had many desires and even made attempts to create but I came to believe I was not good enough, mostly by the lack of notice by those who could have encouraged me.
I want to be that little child again who is unafraid to freely paint or do anything she desires. I have not been that girl for a very long time. I lost that soon after we moved from Washington to Arizona. Spokane, WA was a place I felt loved and safe and free. Phoenix, AZ was the place where I was reluctantly introduced to cruelty, hate and pain. I wasn't prepared for it.
How does a ten year old know how to guard her own heart. Whatever confidence I had gained up to that point, slowly seeped out of me with every mocking, teasing, and hurtful word. I came to the conclusion, I was a nothing, a nobody and I had no value or purpose. I would even see my face as a skeleton when I looked in the mirror.
As I write now, I am certain that the enemy knew I was the opposite. He isn't all knowing, but he seems to have enough insight into who he needs to head off at the pass to keep them from ever attaining the life he knows could threaten him. Truth is I am one of great value and have a great purpose and he intended to stop me. He nearly succeeded and to this day I continue to fight to be the one The Lord desires. Obstacle after obstacle has been thrown in my path. Especially in the release of my God given talents. One sabotage after the other has discouraged me and instead of fighting through, I chose to shut down. Many times I have wanted to give up, but someone inside me compelled me forward. I even carried the painful feeling if I don't create I will internally self combust. We know that would be frightening. Yet for me the pain of attaining or failing to attain that release of creativity has been that powerful.
I can't tell you how many times or ways I have gotten the message I am supposed to write. People tell me and I see or hear it everywhere. Recently, I took one of those goofy tests on Facebook, where it reveals ones perfect career. If you have ever taken one, they are beyond random. None of the questions have anything to do with the subject at hand. How are they gonna know what my career should be by answering what is my favorite drink, animal or disney character. Yet without fail, it says "writer." That's when you throw your hands up in the air and cry "uncle!"
Honestly, I don't like grammar and never wanted to be a writer, that is until I saw and read "Lord of the Rings." I was so very impressed with the power of a great story to bypass the intellect and go straight to the heart. The truths contained in those stories reached into the deep wells of my own being and the idea of how one could speak to others through this medium became an option I pondered. Without my permission, writing was awakened in me, even to point of inspiring me to take a writing course of study for two years.
Writing is creating! It is not easy and extremely vulnerable. To put one's heart out on a written page for the public to see, is like bearing your entire soul to the world. You are inviting others to accept or reject you and that takes grace and courage. Also, I don't relish the long hours of being behind a computer or the call to solitude. Yet, it is time to persevere past the excuses and past disappointments and forge ahead into this piece of my destiny. I know in my knower, if I fail to write, I will keep people from receiving this gift God has put in me. It is my love for Him and people that compels me forward. I have a message of life and freedom to share and I will not be silent, even in the face of controversy. I will succeed this time, because heaven is backing me.
Oh and maybe my days of finger painting rainbows aren't over. After all, these precious babies in my life will need to have that great experience. Who better to lead the way than Nana. Either way the opportunities for future childlike creating abound.
(On a practical note, I need grace in my grammar skills and word usage. I get really confused with the tenses, past, present and future and I often miss a word or type the wrong word. Sometimes I catch them in my multiple proof reads and sometimes I don't. I invite you to gently correct me.)
