Who Are You to Do This?

A friend and I were talking today about our mutual tendencies not to finish things or to not start things in art even though we want to. She is a gifted artist and dear person.  Although we are far apart in age we have much in common in thought and I am grateful that one of them is to talk to people and share our ideas with someone in a different generation.

We often talk about opportunities to make things, how our brains get us side-tracked and “Did you see that color?”. We discuss how people got to be how they got to be as we don’t forget how we function in this world in not all easy or normal ways. We laugh too. She is easy to be around and anyone should be honored to be in her orbit, but we don’t always finish…or start.

I was talking about this book I am reading. I am always talking about a book I am reading/listening to and she is always interested. We don’t always get to talk as deeply about subjects as we want due to our time constraints, but we pass enough info back and forth to sustain our friendship. Maybe this is her jam too.

I told her about a theme in the book and it got her attention. The theme is, “Who are you to do this?”  I thought I don’t do things or finish things in creative lines because I wonder if I am asking myself in my heart of hearts, “Who are you to do this?”

Why should I start a blog? Why would anyone want to read your drivel? Why should I make that painting? You are not even good. Write a book? That is ridiculous. People don’t want to read stories about when you got bit by the dog or the hay wagon ran over your foot at a hayride or you sat for hours in a tree with your friends and ate tiny apples. Why should I start an art appreciation road in our neighborhood? The neighbors would think I am crazy.

The real questions should be, “Why not?’ Who cares? Because the answer is: God, who is gracious and merciful and slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, loves you as you are. You are, and that is why you should.

Amen

2 thoughts on “Who Are You to Do This?

  1. As I was reading this I thought of your beautiful lavenderish – purplish – fuchsia door on the grainery silvered by age. Just that spot of unexpected color is art.

    Liked by 1 person

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