Learning a New Language

I was given a prescription a couple of weeks ago. No, not the kind the physician writes and you take to the pharmacist. This one was administered by a close friend. She had already spoken a word of "rest" over me -- telling me I needed to take a season. And then she said, "And here's what I want you to do. I want you to get yourself one of those journal/sketchbooks and begin putting color on a page. You'll be surprised how much being creative will release the stress in your life." I immediately went into complete left-brain mode. My breathing got shallow and I broke into a full fledged sweat. "Do something artsy? Me? I wouldn't even know how to begin!" She told me to go to Wal-Mart and buy some paints. My breathing became even more shallow? "But what kind of paint?" "I'll go with you," she replied.

Three days later I found myself standing in front of the journal/sketchbooks section at Barnes and Noble. "O God, help me here! Can't You just let me cruise the Christian Inspiration aisle? It's a lot safer for both of us over there!" But alas, my eyes fell on a journal that shouted, "Pick me! Pick me!" And so with a deep breath, I reached for it.
For the first week, it remained right where I put it when I brought it home: on my dressing table bench. At first I totally ignored it, thinking it might go away. And then when I would give it consideration, I could feel my stress level rising, and so I'd push it to the back of the pill cabinet. Each morning as I put on my make-up, there it sat right next to me. I swear it was smiling at me. And finally, by the end of last week, I moved it to my sunroom. At least if I did decide to take this "pill," it would be within reach.

When I told my friend the stress it was causing me, she suggested I take a magazine and just begin flipping through it until something jumped out at me. Then I was to tear it out and PASTE it in the journal. Wow, I could do that. There's no "sketching" involved. And so yesterday it finally happened. The Lord had already placed a word on my heart last week when I was with my son. "Soak." And so here's what transpired.
Yes, that's where I am right now in this season -- or am suppose to be. Soaking. Not sure what all that entails, but in time, He will reveal that to me as well. For now I'm just saying it slowly, letting it find its place in me until I understand the truth in it.

When I finished, I took a quick picture and sent it to my friend. She responded, "That is awesome, girl. How did it feel?"

Feel? I'm left brained! I didn't know "it" was suppose to feel anything! She was quick to respond, "Don't analyze it. Just run show it to Daddy. He LOVES it."

And so I did. Just like a child. And, yes, He seemed delighted.

And you know what? I was delighted, too. I really did "feel" something. Joy would be a good place to start. There truly was a release of stress as I pasted those letters on the page -- once I got past having to line them up perfectly, of course. But more than anything, what I've come to realize is that this isn't just my journal. It's "our" journal. Mine and the Lord's. We're working on this thing together. And who knows? By the time we get to the last page, maybe He and I will have been somewhere together. But for now, I am an infant -- a left-brain girl in a right-brain world even -- and this is a new language.

Just an ordinary moment...