Uncovering

As 2013 drew to a close, and a new year started, I read a book that messed me up. In that good way.

"Uncover the art you were born to make. 

There's a reason I chose the word uncover. It's because our image-bearing identity is already true. But we often cover it up with discouragement. doubt, practicality, or excuses.

Instead of setting off on a journey to find your art, consider staying right where you are to uncover your art. Like the tree with roots crawling deep into the ground, God has already done the work of putting his art within you. I believe he's asking us to do the work of uncovering what is already true and trusting him to release it for his glory and the benefit of others."

-Emily P. Freeman, A Million Little Ways

"You want to know the meaning of life? This is your highest calling: You are called into the dynamic co-creation of the cosmos. This breath is your canvas and your brush. These are the raw materials for your art, for the life you are making. Nothing is off limits. Your backyard, your piano, your paintbrush, your conversation, Rwanda, New Orleans, Iraq, your marriage, your soul. You're making a living with every step you take."

-Jon Foreman (taken from A Million Little Ways)

I wrestled with those words...and I realized that I have been ignoring mine.

My life is pretty well wrapped up in the ongoings of our family. Sure, I take care to go on dates with my husband, to get together with friends and have "me" time every once in a while...but am I fully living out who I was created to be? Or am I just really good at wearing all the hats, balancing all the roles that I am super blessed to be in...without ever thinking twice about what God might want me to uncover.



Freeman suggests looking back into our childhood as a way to reconnect with the art we were created to make. So I did. I thought back through the years that held my most physically awkward times (oh my...that's putting it so very lightly), but also years that I was growing into me. I was exploring who I would become by fully embracing the way God had created me.

Little me was really cute. 

Words were so very important to me. I read every book I could get my hands on...Babysitters Club to my school library's Encyclopedia Brittanica (Nerd alert: I coveted those books. Every mail-order commercial made me swoon.). The genre did not matter, but having the words in front of me to journey through did. Even as an early reader, I savored each and every moment spent with a book.

Yes, I rocked bangs, glasses, braces AND the biggest jean "shorts" you've ever seen. (circa 1994)

Another key part to my look back into the younger me was remembering my journals. I am thankful to still have a few of those gems...and boy, do they reveal the heart and mind of little Carly. (slightly terrifying and hugely hilarious).  Daily happenings, special celebrations, the ups and downs of being a kid (and the torture of having two older brothers)...all captured on paper in my loopy, semi-cursive handwriting. For as much as I cherish thinking back on my childhood memories, reading through my old journals brings fresh perspective to those times. It's as if my memories are black and white, but reading my words brings them into color.

As the years went on, somewhere along the way I got distracted and stopped tuning in to my connection with words. In my growing up, I got busy...in my busyness I let go of the things that really make me, me. The me that God created me to be uses words to express myself. The me that God created me to be takes the time necessary to put my thoughts out before me, either typed or hand written. The me that God created me to be feels more like myself when I don't have a million ideas and thoughts jumbled up in my noggin'...because I've spent the time to purge them so I can have a clear head.

In the mix of wife life and motherhood I have been so caught up in everyone else that I squeezed out bits and pieces of myself that just couldn't fit in anymore. Little details that just had to go, because there was no where else for them to be...but gone. The habit of creativity was lost. Layer on a couple of decades, then four children and top it off with homeschooling (read as: never, ever having a moment to myself) ...and the me that needs to write got buried somewhere deep beneath.

I am incredibly thankful for my children, supportive and loving husband and the opportunity to home school. It is a choice I gladly make each day. I know that a life laid down most closely resembles Jesus, therefore I do not begrudge putting my family's needs before my own. However, after reading and wrestling with Freeman's book, I have begun to realize that I shouldn't wait till the kids are grown up and gone to unleash my creativity...that I need to find time to pursue it on a regular basis. Through tapping into my creative spirit, I am being fully who God created me to be...and that me, she is sure to be a better wife and mother.

So this is me, bravely stepping out into who God made me to be. It took a few months to accept the fact that this is indeed how I am created...and I am ready to fully embrace it. 

What is your creative calling? What creative art might be uncovered in your life, if you dared to look?