Seasonal Recreation

How did you play when you were young? And how do you play now? I used to swim and bike for what seemed like days on end. I took art classes, played piano, and read. These days I hike or run or practice yoga. I write, play at art, and have an ever-growing stack of to-read books. It’s good to allow ourselves to grow in play, to try new things, to let go of things that don’t satisfy the same creative curiosities we once followed like rabbit trails. So long as we continue to take time for soul care, engaging in creation and recreation and play so that we can be transformed. We need to set aside time for activities that dust off our souls. You know what to do. Now go do it.

re:create recess #12: Danielle Humphreys

There have been a couple of times recently in which my recreation inspired creativity which led to transformation in me. Recreation, or ‘play,’ in this season of life looks different from when I was younger. In college, I remember being part of “Rec Sports” where recreation looked like playing intramural soccer or taking a fencing class. Being in Santa Barbara, it also meant a fair amount of time at the beach! I also used to read and do artsy-craftsy things, and it’s not that I don’t enjoy these anymore, but recreation now looks a lot like planting seeds and watching them grow into a garden. It also looks like getting out in nature or going someplace new, or listening to music. These are the things that take me out of my head and clear the dust off my soul; where space is created to dream, to feel, to hear and respond.

One such experience was on a hike at the Trappist Abbey in Carlton, Oregon. It was a beautiful Spring day, one of the first in the midst of what seemed like a never-ending wet winter. My friend and I planned to travel together and then spend time apart for soul care as we hiked the vast swath of land at the Abbey. Reaching the vista point, I sat and pondered a shrine there to the Virgin Mary. It reminded me of growing up Catholic and how honored she is in that faith tradition, especially compared to evangelical faith streams where it seems she’s only thought of at Advent and Christmas. I began journaling that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was also a fellow traveler in this world and is one among the “great cloud of witnesses” surrounding me (Hebrews 12:1). She is also a fellow mother, fellow disciple and fellow sister. She went before me and cheers me on as I run the race before me. Her model of surrender, faith, trust and patience became new to me in that moment. Looking out at the surrounding towns and landscape, I decided to take out my small watercolor set and paint what I saw. I didn’t paint Mary, but imagined her sitting with me. My understanding of Mary had been re-created.

I also find that listening to certain worship music draws me close to the heart of God and gives permission for my soul to feel and experience the movement of the Holy Spirit. Like I mentioned, the Pacific Northwest winter was a brutal one, even for the Oregon natives around me! One day it was finally dry enough to put the garden in so I carved out space to get all the plants in the soil. The song in my earbuds as I worked was “Bitter/Sweet” by Amanda Cook. The lyrics are simple and repeat. “You make all things new…You turn the bitter into sweet…You turn the winter into spring…You make all things new…”

I found myself praying this to be true as I planted summer squash. I prayed for spring for my friends, for our church and for myself. As I mounded hills of soil around each plant, I prayed for God to be the foundation that supports us, for our roots to grow down deep into the soil of God’s love for us (Ephesians 3:17, NLT) for fruit, and for protection around tender plants, and tender us.

Another time, I ended a long day by listening to worship songs. As the words, melody and truth washed over me, I began to have a conversation with God. I prayed about needing to know God was with me, because I sensed that the Spirit was asking me to be prepared for something new, which made me feel scared. I imagined myself and my family being taken to the unknowns of outer space. The conversation I was having with God started to come out in pictures, so I started drawing them in a small notebook. This became a sacred moment, one that transformed me from a place that felt dizzying and uncertain to one of intimacy and trust in the goodness, faithfulness and nearness of God.

Later this week, I am doing something really out of the box for me (in this stage of my life) and going on a backpacking adventure in the mountains with a group of women I don’t know beyond the friend who invited me! The homebody in me was pulling out cookies from the oven when I got a call from the group and learned that we would be ascending 7,000 feet, and that our gear included both a helmet and an ice ax. What have I gotten myself into?! Recreation via adventure! Blowing dust off of a weary soul. Being surprised by the creativity that springs forth on the journey. Stars and glaciers and the beauty of British Columbia. New soul sisters and pilgrims on the journey. And for certain, there will be re-creation and transformation. I can.not.wait.

Danielle is a native Bay Area gal, (still) adjusting to life in Oregon, married to Matt and mom to 3 kiddos and 1 dog. She has a B.A. in Aquatic Biology, an M.A. in Theology (Fuller), and enjoys conversations about church, community, Jesus, and gardening. She is also a lover of good food, music, creativity, and outer space. She is the Associate Director of Family Ministries at Trinity Covenant Church where her husband Matt is also on staff as a Pastor.

Art Therapy

Dr. Seuss writes, “Oh, the places you will go!” which I echo, “Oh, the places our children will lead us…” Before Teen was born, I could never have imagined that he would lead me hunting for and racing snails, and later, in search of snakes in the jungles of Costa Rica. LaRae Seifert was Frank-ly surprised that she ended up in art class alongside her creative daughter, and we’re both grateful for the life adventures on which these kids have taken us and the lessons we’ve learned along the way.

re:create recess #7: LaRae Seifert

You know those people who can take empty plastic bottles and transform them eighteen different ways into useable, clever gadgets? Or, alternatively, they can take miscellaneous household objects, some fruit, and a glue gun, and in under ten minutes create a beautiful centerpiece … or wreath for the door … or costume for the youngest child’s school production. You know someone like this. Maybe you are someone like this.

I am not this person. I do not even live in the same space as this person.

I am the person who can solve a logic puzzle in my head, or calculate everyone’s cost and tip when splitting a check before any of my friends can dig out a phone and pull up a calculator. Taking one of those silly Facebook quizzes that determine if one is left or right brained, I scored 80% left-brained, and my response was to think, “Only 80%?”

I have never thought of myself as creative. I am a problem solver. I do some things that appear creative, like playing the piano, and knitting and embroidering, and sewing. These things for me, however, do not depend on creativity as much as the precision and order that flow naturally from my mathematical nature.

Imagine my surprise then, and ultimately my appreciation for God’s sense of humor, when I gave birth to a daughter who is all creativity. She is constantly expressing her ideas through art and crafting. I never dreamed I would purchase so much paper, and yarn, and glue, and paint, and beads, and feathers, and wood, and … You get the idea. Eventually, my husband and I realized this was no passing fancy, but rather the core of her being, and we prayerfully sought out an art mentor for her.

We were lead to a local woman who is a talented watercolorist. When I approached her and asked if she would be willing to teach my daughter, she said, “Absolutely.” When we arrived at her house for the first lesson, the table was set for two students, not one. She said to me, “I thought you might like to join us.”

Internally, I rolled my eyes. I mean, really. I’m the least artistic person on the planet. This was going to be pure torture, but in wanting to be a good mom, I sat down, and … it wasn’t what I expected. What happened over the next several months surprised me. I found a part of myself I didn’t know existed. A year-and-a-half into this journey, I can see that digging deep and learning to create has changed me.

I can remember my surprise when we sketched an elephant from a photograph, and my result actually looked like an elephant. My daughter was so proud of me she named him Frank. I felt pleasure in mixing colors, and watching pictures take form as I painted. As I exercised my creative muscle, the realization dawned that I create every day of my life, whether it is memories, or family time, or meals, or one-on-one moments with my children or husband; every moment of the day is a moment of creation. It brings to mind that, “In the beginning, God created…” and as His image-bearers, we too are born to create.

I am not an amazing artist, nor will I ever be; but my experience with art has been a pleasant one. Most pleasing of all has been watching God take an analytical mom out of her comfort zone, and tap into her previously unknown creative well by placing her at the art table next to her child.

 

My name is LaRae, and I am a native of Colorado. I have been married 23 years to my partner in crime, and I have two beautiful daughters ages 12 and 19. Although I have a Juris Doctorate, I long ago set aside my law practice to focus on my hearth and home. I have homeschooled for 11 years, and I’m pretty sure I’ve learned as much as my children. As I say to them – the world is your classroom, and life is your teacher. As long as you’re living, you’re learning.

 

Express

I’ve been reading Liz Gilbert’s Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear.

I like it. Just over half-way through, I find it inspirational, insightful, and encouraging. She writes in short anecdotes that make you want to keep reading, except that at the end of each one I feel the need to put the book down and create.

Which is exactly what I did this afternoon. I read these words–

Perhaps creativity’s greatest mercy is this: By completely absorbing our attention for a short and magical spell, it can relieve us temporarily from the dreadful burden of being who we are. Best of all, at the end of your creative adventure, you have a souvenir—something that you made, something to remind you forever of your brief but transformative encounter with inspiration (172).

–and decided I needed to be absorbed, to adventure, and to hold something that I made.

I pulled out my watercolors and paper, a ruler, pencil, and markers. I sketched a circle and erased it. I reconsidered. I tried again, this time with no circle.

I recalled a delightful summer morning painting with my kids. We splattered watercolor paint in bright streaks and splashes across paper, sheet after sheet. We laughed and giggled and lost ourselves in the joy. Later I cut the paper into little squares, then cut petals, and then poked holes into which I wound chenille stems. We made a bouquet of flowers for my grandma, their great-grandma, flowers that would eventually fade, yes, but would not wilt with age. She loved them, and I found them in her apartment years later, after she herself had wilted.

But this time I couldn’t get the paint to cooperate. No big swaths of vivid color, but instead tiny dots. I told Fear and Frustration to get lost, and I kept at it. I prayed. I felt eager to play, to recapture the joy of that memory. Joy played Hide-and-Seek, and I kept playing.

When the paint dried I added the letters, and then I held my souvenir. It is not what I had envisioned. It is not what I set out to create. It is, in truth, a little bit of a hot mess.

And I love it. Who cares what it looks like, really? I made it. It’s an expression of me, The Whole Point! I can be bright, wide ribbons of color, and I can be subtle pin-prick polka dots. I can be precise and smeared. I can be a beautiful hot mess.

But so long as I have breath, I desire to create.express