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Late summer in Ohio is glorious.

It’s not just the mild temperatures without humidity, it’s also the light.

This morning’s clear rays of sun are shimmering on lush green leaves as they move gracefully with a gentle breeze.

This dance is accompanied by the rhythmic rise and fall of cicadas harmonizing with feathered lead-singers, punctuated by the percussion of a near-by woodpecker.

It’s a song of hope, nature’s response to Now, to the day, and to a future.

The optimism is contagious. 

I am filled with gratitude for this moment despite the distractions of world events, social media and other social ailments.

My recent birthday has taken me well beyond the life-expectancy of the populations living in America a century ago.

Instead of considering myself  “elderly”, I can get on my bike and ride a joyful 30-plus miles without much post-ride stiffness,

adding more miles just for the bliss of being outside.

Having the option to join the summer song and dance is a gift.

Through modern medical technology I have been graced with an extension of active years.

I have access to healthy food, resources to own and ride a bike, great running shoes to keep aging feet on the move.

I have eye care and dental care, basic healthcare with doctors I trust.

I can travel for adventure or to be near those I love; or I can easily communicate with them without leaving home.

My heart overflows with thanksgiving for these good things despite life’s trials.

But sometimes I wonder what has been taken away by the Technological Revolution.

I have a friend who has been in my life since before our Millennial children were even in school.

As young mothers, we shared long conversations about making our homes special for our families.

We are both creative thinkers and loved the process of making what we needed to bring beauty into our lives.

“Handmade” was embraced at the time.

I spent many hours perusing fabric stores and craft shops looking for the supplies to make wreaths or topiaries, curtains, pillows, hand-painted furniture and other warming touches for my home. 

As the years went by and time became precious, I began to resent the time and effort required for doing my own projects.

I bought things I thought would make my home special and hired others to do jobs needing to look “professional”.

My friend and I no longer lived in the same town, but our frequent phone calls often included the subject of our homes.

We found that despite our efforts to recapture the meaningfulness of those early years,

our houses felt beautifully decorated but not particularly satisfying.

Heartfelt conversation revealed an insight we have both never forgotten: A home is at its best when it reflects time spent in the process of making. It’s not just how something looks that matters; its how it relates to our souls.

We were created to create! We grow and gain wisdom from making things. Combining hands with minds during the process of making results in deep emotional satisfaction and a sense of well-being. Do a little research into the IKEA Effect: We put a higher value on things we have made ourselves than on a similar purchase. 

Repetition of making-skills results in proficiency.

Do something long enough and you become really good at it.

The world is blessed through your commitment to beauty and usefulness while your satisfaction level rises.

wonder if being true to ourselves as creators would help to bring balance to our technological age?

Can making things by hand restore some of what is lost when so much is done for us, including our thinking?

It’s hard to set aside time to make things.

Certainly the enemy of our souls is behind the blur of life that demands our full attention.

But distraction isn’t the only threat to our need for making.

Comparison is the great creativity killer.

Comparing our own work to others is art-deception.

Have you ever looked at a painting and thought “I could never do that!”? You’re absolutely right! YOU could never do that because you aren’t supposed to.

You are designed to create from your own heart, reflecting what you have seen or experienced.

The act itself is holy.  

Artist Makoto Fujimura puts it profoundly in his book Art and Faith:

“The Bible is full of Making activities. I have come to believe that unless we are making something, we cannot know the depth of God’s being and God’s grace permeating our lives and God’s Creation. Because the God of the Bible is fundamentally and exclusively THE Creator, God cannot be known by talking about God, or by debating God’s existence (even if we “win” the debate). God cannot be known by sitting in a classroom, or even in a church taking in information about God. . . God the Artist communicates to us first, before God the lecturer”.

Is it possible we are misunderstanding God when we don’t participate in the process of creating?

We notice so much less than is being offered to us by our Creator.

Making time to Make Something reconnects us to the voice of God.

Art is a mysterious process awakening awareness of beauty and hope as the Holy Spirit moves and mingles with the human spirit.

This awareness is so easily damaged or destroyed by misconceptions of what art really is,

convincing us that only a gifted few are given the privilege, the talent, to participate in this Spirit-intimacy. 

Painting is only one of endless ways to begin recapturing the power of Making.

My husband makes beautiful bread; my daughter captures life through her camera lens.

I have a son who remakes materials into something he needs; another son captures the energy and strength of ultra-running in his abstract watercolor paintings.

What are you called to make?

As an artist, I invite you to join the communion of creating, to make time for making.

Find what brings you delight and contentment despite the effort expended.

Be prepared to be swept up in the experience;

the end product will become precious with practice.  

The process itself is addictive!