Hand-Making

I was at the fabric store this week, procuring material necessary for my latest bout of inspiration.  Chatting with the staff, we were discussing the benefits of creative outlets.

It reminded me of a session I attended some time ago, a faith-based discussion on healing from trauma. One of the signs of healing that was named was 'hand-making'. 

Literally defined, hand-making is making something. While the examples given covered all manner of creating (as simple as making a meal or sewing a hem, to something as complex as building an addition or painting a canvas), the intention and effect of the effort indicated that it was much more than just a creative spell. 

For a creative spell, inspiration strikes, and off you venture to the craft room or kitchen or woodshop. There is a project, a plan, and ideally an eventual finished product. And it is good!

For hand-making, the nuance varies, in that the intention is not the finished product, but the journey of creating. 

This is important as a spiritual context changes the reason for creating in the first place. When we are healing, we are returning to the created being that God intended us to be: loved and loveable and  loving. And when we dwell in that love, the labour's of our hands are an extension of our love. 

Our hand-making reminds us of the privilege we share as co-creators with the one who created us; it also reminds us of our constant journey towards spiritual health and wellness. 

So this week I'll be doing some sewing; a little creative project and a little hand-making wrapped all into one. I'm looking forward to the journey!

Anticipating Beauty

This week I was gifted with a gorgeous array of tulips.

Part of what I enjoy about tulips is the opening – each flower opens in its own time, at its own pace. Influenced by light and heat, chemicals and cells cause the movement of the petals to almost dance in the daytime.

The tulips are analogous, I think, of where we are right now in society. We’ve been kind of closed up for any number of reasons; COVID, weather, our own emotional journeys, etc. But we seem to be at a shared time in our lives where the opening is starting again. And it’s beautiful.

But we are all going at our own pace: we are all experiencing each day in unique ways, as our situations and circumstances vary. Some are more comfortable opening quickly, some are more comfortable opening slowly. Whatever our pace, there is beauty to be found: like in the opening of a flower.

The anticipated beauty of the tulips also reflects where we are together: I expect the tulips to open, and to demonstrate beauty, because I have seen tulips in the past do this. However, I recognise that these tulips are not those tulips; these are new tulips. Our culture is embracing a new era, and it is exciting! But if we choose to limit our way of thinking to only seeing beauty in what used to be, in the “old times”, we may miss out on what beauty is here and now, and what beauty is on the cusp of discovery.

The tulips are lovely, and bring beauty and happiness to my table.

The world around us is also lovely; and we have the choice before us to reject that beauty because things have changed, or to let our souls be uplifted with the ways God is showing us an always-opening beauty.

This week, we’ll all be gifted with a gorgeous bouquet of possibility, and invited to rejoice in the sacredness of new opportunity.

Deep Dive

The High Dive; CC SA-NC 2.0 by Scott McLean

Many moons ago, I spent a disproportionate amount of time at the pool. I loved swimming, but I never got into the diving side of things; my depth perception from heights wasn’t conducive to the *splat* factor of the waters’ surface.

Since then, I have often held an interest in platforms: the physical kind (to allow a higher and wider descent, like a diving board or a sneeze on a balcony), and the metaphorical kind (a place from which to speak ideas, and have them projected broadly).

It’s these political platforms that have been intriguing me lately, as I have seen people use platforms for reasons to build up a community; and some to tear it down. I have pondered the campaigns of mud-slinging and negativity; I don’t understand why some people would want to project a negative narrative, nor why others seek to establish and maintain a platform to host such a narrative. To use one’s energy to undercut or destabilise another person seems, to me, to be counter-productive to the Gospel.

The teachings of Jesus were, at times, shared from platforms. Jesus spoke to the crowds from a boat, or from a mount; he spoke to people equipped to continue sharing the message, and he demonstrated acts of power and grace to people least likely to take them for granted. He went out of his way to spread love and forgiveness, acting with kindness and integrity.

Perhaps, when we are considering what platforms we are projecting or supporting, we might consider if Jesus would encourage us in this behaviour, or if he might guide our hearts to use our place and space for holier purposes.

The opportunities are always before us to speak truth and inclusion; to do so is to journey with Jesus on the platform. Let’s use whatever we can to project the Good News of God in Christ – as often and as broadly as we can.

Building a Bridge

Bridges are often used as metaphors in relationships – for trust, communication, journeying, overcoming obstacles, etc.

Challenges of course come when a bridge is damaged in some way – be it an earthquake, erosion, lack of maintenance – suddenly a fracture exists and a bridge is not bridging the divide as intended.

The response to broken bridges is of course whether to re-build or repair. A re-build using existing materials could be problematic, as fractures could happen again for any number of reasons: the material could be past its prime, there may be variance on how the two sides of the bridge line up, the landscape on either side of the bridge may have been negatively affected or newly destabilised, etc. Whatever distress has caused a bridge to fail may continue to exist and impact – even with the best of intentions, a bridge may not be as strong.

A new bridge, on the other hand, has its own considerations. They are planned, and intentional; they require commitment and a shared goal to cross the divide. They can also benefit from newer perspectives and technologies, boundaries and limitations, etc. They can tend to be more expensive, in terms of time and input.

In chatting bridge metaphors with a colleague, she suggested the imagery of a living bridge – she had seen a tree sapling that was melded and shaped to grow bent over, thus creating an intentionally trained living bridge across a pond. She said it was fascinating to witness, but it took time, and attention, and she wasn’t sure it was overall the best growth pattern for the tree.

Alas! My simple reflections on bridges relate to our interpersonal connections. I am not an engineer; I suspect my engineering friends could offer much greater advice and depth to this thinking. However, my summary is this: the act of building is an act of co-creating, of exposure to vulnerability, of hope over experience. They are not to be done too fast or too slow; with good communication and a plan that works for that place and time.

And, especially when the bridge is a metaphorical (rather than architectural) construct, it is essential to keep God in the construction crew. For in any connection that we have, find, make, or maintain, it is safer and healthier to traverse the journey accompanied by God.

Before and After

A few of the novels I've recently read have been written in a style of before-and-after, flipping chapters from perspectives both preceding and following whatever event. 

It makes for a captivating read; it also serves to demonstrate the changes in view points about the event/characters/settings. 

These changes can be subtle ("I hadn't realised her hair had started to go grey") or extreme ("looking back, that was the day I knew he was destined to die"). Yet they all, on reflection, are things that can be seen, like the shifting light through a window.

Tracking the evolution of a plot through this format is engaging as a reader, as we move through a story of a set time and place, connecting to characters through the limited scope of actions that are presented on the pages. 

These narratives can make one question the reliability of the characters, as their memories may not be entirely accurate. It also highlights their flexibility and willingness to adapt to their circumstances; and it can become very clear that one event leads to multiple understandings, interpretations, and influences. 

All in all, it makes for a good read! And it identifies an opportunity for reflection into our own lives. 

Unlike a novel with a predetermined outcome, our lives are a story yet unfolding. We have our befores, and we have our nows. 

And we have the opportunity to read into our own lives: moments that we have understood differently from others, our own evolved thinking with new information, a re-evaluation of what was, what is, and what can be. 

Our faith is part of this journey, for the more we learn and pray and experience, the more our relationship with God will evolve and (hopefully) grow and strengthen. Our 'before' is a good start, foundational for a maturing faith and continuing spiritual journey. What a gift that our lives are limitless in the possibilities of growth of relationship with God and all God's beloved. 

1Cor 13.11-12 When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.