The Cultivating Artist is a column that seeks to encourage and empower fellow makers. The work of an artist—that reach toward something beautiful—can feel daunting, especially at the beginning. Negative thoughts threaten to steal away sparkling possibilities. I’ve learned that by dwelling on thoughts that are lovely and true, I can fight discouragement and keep moving forward one brush stroke at a time. I want to help you fight and persevere in your work too. Here, I’ll be coming alongside you with encouragement and stories from my own life, reminding you that you’re not alone.
My youngest daughter, Esther, sat quietly with the rest of her classmates as I filed into the spacious, mirrored room along with the other parents. The ballet teacher had a few announcements to make. The big performance was still a couple of months away, but the costumes had already come in and it was extremely important that the girls not be allowed to wear them at home.
“I know—it may sound harmless to let your girls wear them for fun, but DO NOT LET THEM,” warned the teacher. “We don’t want anything to happen to them before the big day!
“You’ll see that each costume is bundled up in a sturdy plastic bag. I’ve tucked a sheet of paper into each bag, which contains all the details regarding the dress rehearsal and performance. A week or two before the performance, you’ll need to take your daughter’s costume out of the bag and hang it upside down to let the wrinkles fall out. Do not take it out before then! For now, I strongly suggest that you toss your daughter’s costume way up high in a closet right when you get home. That way your daughter won’t be tempted to wear it. Out of sight, out of mind.”
When I got home, I spun the plastic bag above my head a couple of times and hurled Esther’s costume way up onto the top shelf of the hall closet. I could barely make out the sequins winking down at me out of the darkness as I closed the closet door.
The teacher was right—out of sight out of mind. I doubt Esther thought of that costume once over the next two months. I know I didn’t. I’d completely forgotten it, along with the sheet of paper containing details regarding the dress rehearsal and performance. It was still in the bag with the costume …
I love people, but in groups they make me nervous. For that reason, each week as I waited for Esther to finish her ballet class, I chose to sit by myself, leaning up against a wide column in a long, quiet hallway, rather than outside the ballet room with the other moms.
I was surprised to see another mom in my quiet hallway one afternoon. Closing the book I’d been reading, I stood and spoke with her.
We talked about how much our girls had enjoyed this year’s ballet class.
“Maybe I’ll see you next week,” I said as the other mom was turning to head back toward the ballet room.
“No, you know they won’t have ballet next week,” said the other mom. “This is the last class for the year.”
“Oh, right,” I said, trying to mask my surprise.
“You know,” continued the other mom, “since the performance is tomorrow.”
“The performance is tomorrow,” I repeated, trying to recover. “Right. And … it’s going to be here, at the church …” I guessed. My eyes were wide and my face felt hot.
“No,” said the mom, beginning to look concerned. “It’s going to be at the high school, tomorrow night. The girls are supposed to be there at 5 p.m. They’re supposed to bring their dinner—packed in a disposable bag—food that won’t stain. Also, they’re supposed to bring two water bottles.”
“Right, of course,” I said. “Yes, the high school and a sandwich and two water bottles. And the dress rehearsal is …”
“Tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.,” said the mom, taking a step nearer.
“… also at the high school,” I said, as though casually completing her sentence.
“Yes,” said the mom.
“Right. Well, see you tomorrow,” I said.
As I walked with Esther to the car I thought of that other mom. I knew I hadn’t fooled her for one second and wondered why I’d tried to in the first place.
It was plain as day that I had completely forgotten my daughter’s ballet performance and that if that mom hadn’t provided all the information, complete with times and locations, my daughter wouldn’t have made it to the dress rehearsal or the performance.
I thanked God for sending that mom down my quiet hallway. I thanked Him for how she had shared all the information I needed without calling me out for my ignorance as I stood there trying to hide it. I thanked God on Saturday morning as I walked into the high school for the dress rehearsal, and again that afternoon as I packed Esther’s sandwich and water bottles, and again that evening as I handed her flowers when she came down from the stage.
Later that night I thanked God again as I remembered how that sweet mom had caught my eye after the performance and made her way toward me through the crowd.
“These are for you,” she smiled, handing me a bouquet of flowers.
“Thank you so much for everything,” I said. “You really saved me.”
“It was no problem,” she responded. “I was happy to help.”
God is generous with His provisions! And what a difference it makes when we share generously with one another!
The featured image, “Rose Riot,” is courtesy of Amelia Freidline and is used with her kind permission for Cultivating.
“For me, it all starts with a story. As a child, fairytales and fantastic illustrations captivated my mind and sparked my passion for beautiful artwork and writing. Although I’ve created many kinds of art over the years, my favorite works of art are those inspired by stories. All of my art originates from the stories I write. I see my “story paintings” as windows that provide just enough to start the observer down the path but leave a little mystery to ignite their imagination. Light shining out of the darkness is my favorite and most recurring theme. I believe that artwork that reflects goodness and truth can bring light into people’s lives, encouraging them and giving them hope. My inspiration comes from long walks, rambling prayers, starry skies, and dreamy fairy tales. I enjoy a quiet life with my husband and two daughters, in a house full of treasured books and bright colors. A sleek, black cat and a nervous, brown rabbit keep me company each day while I paint.” ~ Amy Grimes
Oh, I felt this on a deep level! I love that God is always a step ahead of us. Wonderful story!