I grew up in a small cabin built by none other than my parents themselves. They had help here and there, but Dad drew up the blueprint, we moved hundreds of miles away, and they got to work. The home has yet to match the blueprint, but that's no surprise considering that a work of art is never fully finished—just as our lives will never fully finish.

 

I can remember using kerosene lamps for light, washing and drying clothes outside, hand-pumping water, carrying loads of firewood in from the snow, and chinking between each hand-raised log.

 

Change was slow and beautiful and paced. And then, one day, it wasn't.

 

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About Shelby Hughes

2017 Shelby L. Hughes | Greensburg, PA | shelbyhugheswriter@gmail.com

Creating Art in the Every Day


What if I told you that the mundane tasks in your life were instead paintings in the making, every brushstroke on canvas creating a masterpiece? Would you attempt to slow your pace, giving each task your undivided attention, allowing the painting of your day to unfold beauty, to reach the deepest parts of your soul?

 

Washing a plate, a stroke of pink. 

 

Folding a towel, a stroke of blue. 

 

Walking the dog, a stroke of brown.

 

Changing a diaper, a stroke of purple. 

 

Cooking a meal, a stroke of yellow. 

 

Making the bed, a stroke of green. 

 

 

 

Instead of rushing from one agenda to another, fretting about what you want to do instead of what you NEED to do, could I beckon you to stop? Breathe. Slow your pace. Start again. Command the anxiety wreaking havoc to dissipate. Realize that you were created on purpose, with a purpose, and that the purpose will not prosper with truth until you rid yourself of the belief that the seemingly insignificant, daunting, repetitive, and small is not worth your time. Dear friend, it's worth your time. Slowing down to the things that require your attention from week to week are meant to be lived fully, are meant as displays of art in the center of God's eye. 

 

God sees you. He sees your painting emerging as you tidy your home. He hears the melody as you hush and hum your infant to sleep for the umpteenth time. He sees the dance of you working frantically to appease both boss and customer. He sees as you sob behind closed doors, later choosing to wipe the tears, continuing the painting, the song, and the dance that is your life.

 

How I wish I could open up a portal that would allow for you to see him seeing you, his eyes looking lovingly on you, his heart feeling with you, his ears readily listening for you, and his arms always holding you. Instead, I remind you of the intimate words written in Psalm 139 detailing a holy God who knows you on such a personal level, and that you, yes you, are fearfully and wonderfully created and so very precious to him. He's constantly thinking of you. 

 

So I challenge you to slow down today. Let your next task be an intentional brushstroke, refrain, and curtsy to the Creator of this universe. You were made for this next thing, even in its smallness. 

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