This thing called Art
I need my head examined. I just ordered three craft books through Amazon. I won't even tell you how much they cost after conversion from US dollars into Malaysian dollars (or ringgit, as we call it here). Now I have a hollow feeling in my stomach from the amazing risk that I've taken it's my first time ordering anything from Amazon, you see. Forgive me, but I'm still in the habit of paging through my books before deciding whether to buy them. *cough* *grin*
After a hiatus of years, I'm getting back into crafts, specifically card-making. I've always been a little shy to announce that I make cards, I'm not sure why. And I have never ever put down "making cards" in any of the myriad forms that have asked me to state my "hobbies".
About three years ago, during my summer break following final-year exams in uni, I went home. I decided that, instead of drifting through my days eating, sleeping and reading romance books (as I had in previous years), I would spend my time profitably instead; I would give rein to my creative urge and make cards.
Mom called it a waste of time. Never mind that she didn't like me reading romance books either or 'trash', as she labels them she still thought I was wasting my time, and she made noise over all the money I'd spent on craft materials and tools.
For the first time in years, I lost my temper. I didn't shout, because shouting at one's parents is deemed unacceptable in our house (old habits die hard), but I gritted my teeth and told her pithily that I would be sure to always buy cards for her in future; she didn't need to ever worry that I'd waste my time making one for her. *winces* I still can't believe I didn't get told off for being disrespectful and rude!
She was silent, not saying anything to that. And ever since then, I guess, it's been like a wound in my soul, a festering sore.
Her birthday fell on Sunday, yes, the Sunday that just passed a few days ago. I couldn't help remembering all this, and was feeling a little melancholy... I was in church, worshipping God through song, and I remembered how, when we were younger, my bro and I used to mess around with paints and pin our childish artwork on the fridge. We'd place magnets at each of the paper's four corners, and look at it, proud as punch.
And I was wondering, how did I get from there to here? When did art become something I shouldn't "waste my time" pursuing? Something that should be pushed away in favour of more important things, more "useful" things, like studying? (Ugh!) A "nice hobby", but don't take it too seriously, y'know?
Then I kind of sensed God saying to me, "It isn't worthless." I recognised His gentle voice, speaking into the tumult of my soul. Still, ever unsure, I wondered, "Is that You, Father?" and He just reiterated, "It isn't worthless."
Letting that sink in for a moment, He kinda affirmed that the urge to create comes from Him. That He created me this way and it's OK to run with the interest. I don't have to feel like I'm being ridiculously irresponsible when I take the time to do crafts, as if I should only do that when I've got nothing else better to do.
I like what Fallible has to say:
Hang on to your first love. But if perchance you let it go, do not rest until you have it once again in your hand and in your heart.
I think books are my first love. But craft is probably my second (music coming a close third), and what she says goes for second loves, too.