This picture resurfaced last summer. It’s a snapshot of four year-old me, bow in hair, pencil in hand, writing and drawing my heart out.
I don’t remember how it made its way to me, but it came at the perfect time.
It was a time when I was feeling… far from myself. Creatively and spiritually drained. So, I’d signed up for a soul-filled photography course. One that asked me to plumb the depths of my heart in writing, then make images that reflect those hidden truths.
As I approached the truth of my heart, I could feel the resistance. I could hear my inner critic taunting, “You’re so self-indulgent,” and, “Stop being dramatic.” Or worse, “Your writing is silly.”
Then, as if by magic, the picture found me again.
It now lives on my desk as a reminder of who God created me to be, before I had any idea that I had been created to be anything.
Whenever my inner critic starts to ridicule, I look at this picture and it whispers back, “Keep going.”
Knowing who I’ve always been lets me step into more of myself.
My mother took this picture. The act would have seemed inconsequential to her. But thirty years later, it means a great deal to me.
But that’s what parents do: They see their children’s natural gifts and talents. Then, they gently coax that beauty into being. Reminding them in words, action and—in this case—photographs, just how much they matter.
Celebrate your children for who they are.
Displaying family art in your home reminds your children who they are, where they belong, and how loved they are.
That’s a gift only a parent can give.