Hello, World: Goodbye, fear

Once as a young mom in search of an entirely-my-own “hat” to wear, I found myself in calligraphy classes with none other than Timothy Botts. For those of you that have not had the pleasure of being acquainted with Botts’ work, please google him. His work is among my favorite calligraphy, ever. More than simply creating beautiful script, he makes the meaning of the text to catapult off the page. I first experienced his work while working at a Logos bookstore during my college years, and it forever secured a place in this bibliophile artist-wannabe’s mental catalog of all that is valuable. You will love it, I promise.

In any case, in between my first and second babies, I was in need of something to call my own. Something that did not involve being either a wife or a mother. Having always loved learning, I perused our local community college’s offerings for something fun. Now please understand that I am a math and science person by upbringing. The idea of art class terrified me almost as much as the idea of gym class. Calligraphy was just something that snuck its way in during summer camp, etc., likely because it was pretty, but followed rules. Nonetheless, I was stunned and starstruck by the idea that Timothy Botts taught at MY community college--who knew?--and this seemed like an appropriate time to be brave, so I enrolled.

During my first class we were asked us to describe ways in which we exercised our creativity. The woman who had given me a ride to class, a new friend who had taken Botts’ courses before, declared that she was not at all creative. In his humble and gracious way, Tim called her out. He knew of her belief in a loving, creative God, he said, and further of her belief that she had been made in the image of said God. Therefore, logic dictated she herself must also be creative. What a moment that was for me. I shared my friend’s belief, but come on. Me, math contest champion, creative? I mean, I got it that making babies was an incredible opportunity to partake in Divine creativity, by no means to be downplayed. But artistic-creative? Me? Over the next year and a half, I took a total of three courses with Botts. I learned many valuable things about calligraphy, about art, about color, about design. And through Tim’s patient guidance and the encouragement of my classmates, I learned that my artistic expressions were unique, beautiful, and worthwhile. Eventually I would learn that they were also necessary.

I would like to tell you that I never again lost myself in the myriad details of home and family; but you are much too smart to believe that. Having now traded stay-at-home-mom-absorbed-by-little-people-status for working-full-time-mom-dealing-with-impending-young-adulthood status, my need for a hat all my own remains the same, as does my need to be creative. I still desire to bring forth life. I still yearn to be involved with beauty, whether on a canvas, at the dinner table, in an occasional organized closet, or through words on a page.

Louise Hay, who has been a wonderful source of affirmation for me, calls that yearning “divine discontent.” She maintains that “our longing is our calling” and asserts that when we have an urge to create something, we can either go with it, or remain stuck in the fear.

Today, I choose to go with it. Goodbye, fear. What am I afraid of, anyway?