Creative Outlet

Last night I sat on the 2ND floor terrace of the MDE Public Library. The hard metal chairs cradled me as I typed away on my laptop. The warm air slowly mingled with the sounds of a softball game, and the sun gracefully set while casting off glowing hues of passionate begonias and fuscias. It was too late when I realized that I missed these moments of peace in their entirety as I only noticed them during my brief glances away from the screen.

So a day later, I would like to spend a moment reflecting on this moment that passed me by.

Every so often, I think the majority of people spend their days just going and attempting to complete the mundane tasks of life. I was a part of that group of people last night. The rest of our world's population are either doing something of significance. More importantly, there exist those who are not doing but rather being. Somehow their tasks or priorities still get accomplished as they focus on being themselves. I'd like to be this last type of person.

If I could have lived last night over again, this is probably what I would have done:

I think if I had come out to the terrace in the same state of mind, I would have put my bags down. Maybe I would have walked to the edge and leaned against the railing, or I might have decided to sit down somewhere that afforded a good view of the area. After this initial step, I think I might have decided to take it all in, little by little, one section at a time.

The first section would have been to the east. Over in that direction, I would have heard the goings on of a softball or baseball game. I think I would have spent some time intentionally smiling, as I probably would have done some internal reflection and memory re-living of my own childhood times spent at a ballpark.

After the shouts and cries of joy or despair filled me up with a new sense of wonder, I think I would have turned north.

The open spaces would greet me with their waving grasses, wild prairie dogs and serenely flying birds. I would think of the few date nights that my husband and I have spent walking hand in hand through them, whispering our souls secrets to one another. Occasionally we'd laugh with or at one another, and sometimes we would embrace. We would point out the different flora and fauna like the old married couple that we pretend to be. Maybe I would think about that time that we found wheat growing in one of the fields by the Brunner house. We decided to try out the kernels which tasted very sweet and tangy, excited that a city chose to grow something edible and sustainable within our very community. Or I would reflect on the time we roller bladed around the open spaces. Chad spent most of his time behind me, making sure I didn't bite it as my unsteady legs constantly threatened to give out on me at any moment. Lastly, I might ponder the moments that I've spent on my own running through them. Those solitary moments have given me some of my most brilliant insights, allowed me to resolve tough issues, and drawn me closer to my Creator in ways that few other activities do.

The last direction I would turn is west. By this point, the sun would be setting, and the crisp pigmentation of the sky mingling with the water colored cotton-ball clouds would capture me. I would think of the God who created all of this: the things both seen and unseen, the things of the soul, body, mind, spirit, earth, wind, water, fire. That this God who breathed all of this into creation, also created me with intention, purpose and joy. Joy. I was created with joy. Maybe I would reflect on His sacrifice, or maybe I would think of His love for me, others and the world. I don't know. Or maybe, at this point, I would just stop doing. I would stop trying to accomplish something, as I might realize that this whole time I was still performing to an agenda of being a proactive "be-er." At this revelation, I might sigh. I might sit down if I was standing, or I'd stand if I had been sitting. I would lean towards the west, towards the majestic now purple mountains and drink in everything.

I would be.

And during this "be-ing," maybe...it's possible....but maybe more of me would come out of that whole experience than before I started.