Veteran’s Day found me at home, with all three kids home from school, doing loads of laundry, grocery shopping, baking for a baby shower, cooking dinner and the endless dish washing that ensues. If I haven’t ever said it plainly here, let it be known this day: THESE ARE NOT MY FAVORITE THINGS TO DO!! I’ve been known to say to my friends that cooking and domesticity “makes me grumpy”. It’s more than that even: it feels futile, unimportant, insignificant. I’m often in this place of feeling like most of what I do really does not matter or “count” for anything. Here, here, and here, you’ll read the same droan (shall we call it whining?) of wishing I could be doing SOMETHING ELSE! And not just anything else, but something of value, like painting or drawing. Yet, even in my art, I can spiral into a place where even that feels unimportant and insignificant. Perhaps you have these places in your life too, where you just don’t see the purpose for it, the reason behind it all, or anything fruitful that comes from your efforts.
I’ve been reading a most lovely book in anticipation of advent. Watching for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas is where I found the Sylvia Plath poem. The day after Veteran’s Day I read a piece by Henri Nouwen titled, Waiting for God. I’ve been so encouraged by his writing. The above is an image from my written journal (albeit peppered with drawings). The next few blog posts will be other snippets from this article. You really should read the entire piece! The way Nouwen speaks of what it means to wait, makes me realize that it is precisely in those mundane, insignificant moments where real life is happening…something is growing, God is at work. Yes, and yes~I WILL rest in this.
In case it is difficult to read my scribble on the image above, here’s the snippet from Henri Nouwen’s article:
“…People who wait have received a promise that allows them to wait. They have received something that is at work in them, like a seed that has started to grow…Those who are waiting are waiting very actively. They know that what they are waiting for is growing from the ground on which they are standing. That’s the secret. The secret of waiting is the faith that the seed has been planted, that something has begun.” -Henri Nouwen