Somehow this world came to be. I choose to believe it was shaped by a Creator God who breathed life into grass, Mountain Laurel, Mountain Lions, mountain women, and mountain men, along with anything else that ‘breathes.’ In my limited life, I’ve been exposed to some ideas that result in me believing We, Humans, are creative beings as well. At our core, we love to create – better ways to live, food to eat, gardens, tools to get the job done, curriculum, cars, organizations to help people, churches, mosques, buildings, houses, paintings, music. Each of us has something we’re great at creating. However, sometimes I fear, I forget to live creatively. I forget that I don’t have to live in the confines of . . . anything. I don’t feel a need to rock the boat, just for rocking’s sake – nobody likes that girl too much. She doesn’t get invited back on the canoe trip. . . I DO love rocking the boat because it’s a really hot, sweltering day. We are all exhausted, weary, and sweating . . . more than we want to be. Deep down, we all think Man that water looks soooooo inviting. or I‘ve never seen a river so clear. Each time we dip our paddles in, bits of water that spit upon our arms and face and call to us. The next stroke, we smack the water with more force. Hoping a little more water will cool our sweaty bodies. Inevitably, someone yells, “Hey! Quit splashing me. I’m trying to paddle. And paddle. And enjoy this trip down the river. I’d like to be DRY when I get home!”
And now it’s time to start rocking. Deep down, we all want it anyways. We want to be wet. We crave to be cooled. We desire to go swimming! After all, it’s a hot, sticky day, and the water is so refreshing. Somebody has to do it. Somebody had to do it. Otherwise we’d all miserably float down the river, smiling and sweating and miserable. We’d drag our miserable bodies back to our sticky cars. Lay towels down – just in case we have a few drops of water – and say, “Wow! What great fun THAT was!”
But we’d be lying. We do that a lot – lie to ourselves. Because to say otherwise would be rocking the boat. We don’t want to stand out TOO much. We don’t want to be TOO different. . . . Why? We’re not sure.
So I’m not a boat-rocker when the water’s cold and no one really wants a swim. But strip away our fake faces, and look into the hearts of women, children, and men . . . I see some people who genuinely want to swim. So I’ll just go ahead and flip that boat for us. Blame it on me. But, please, just enjoy this refreshing water. Life is best lived deeply, and from the heart.
I’ve been inwardly celebrating and inspired by some people who are living creatively.
A couple of our good friends have a farm in the country with tons of space and land. A smile and a sigh. Through some connections, one of them finds out about this young woman who needs some help. Others had tried helping before, but the Young Woman politely with-held some information. A few months later, She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl. Young Mother. In a BIG city. Has fled her country for fear of Her life. Just received Her asylum from US Government. But has no one, nothing, and nowhere to raise Her child. . . And the boat starts rocking. . . Not sure how it happened, but they hatched a plan. Lots of phone calls. Excitement from Young Mother. A room is prepared. Conversations are had and sacrifices are made. Excitement from Friends on Farm. One day’s drive. Friends pack up the few possessions of Young Mother and Baby. One day’s drive back.
Yeah! The Young Woman and her daughter moved in with the farmers! Why not? They have space, tons of food to spare, love children, love people, and knew it was the right thing to do. Right! The right thing to do. And they love people. Beyond the words. They take the words of love, creativity and put a face to them. They rock the boat because it’s a hot day, and they all wanted a swim anyways. . .
And then there’s Kortlyn. Her greater plans for life are completely exciting, but there’s this one little thing she does. She plants seeds. Literally. In the ground. In the ghetto. She buys dirt, because the soil where she lives is toxic, and then she invites kids to help. Twenty-some kids plant seeds. In this soil. Water them. Watch them grow. Learn to identify the plants from their leaves, learn what each vegetable tastes like. . . Before the gardens? There was candy wrappers, soda cans, plastic forks, and muddy ground. People walked by in the neighborhood, threw their trash in the yard and never had a second thought. . . NOW? I caught someone smiling. Admiring the flowers. While in that yard, a father and his daughter stopped by. They didn’t see me. They just walked up to the garden and were softly talking. “We need to get our garden started.” “What do you think that plant is?” . .. Kortlyn’s creativity rocks the boat in the inner-city ghetto. And people are curious. Kids want to eat spinach as a reward for doing their homework (seriously?!?!). Her boat-rocking caused a few other canoes to flip into the cool water. Swimming is more fun with friends, anyway.
What I love about these boat-rockers is that they didn’t go looking for an opportunity. Or create an organization. They just were living life, doing what they love to do, in tune with who they are. They were just floating down the river. . . It got a little hot. Things sounded a bit miserable for the Young Mother. The yard was mostly trashed. Everyone was uncomfortable. So they said, “Let’s change this!” And then. They did.