1
Heavy snow falling,
childish exuberance shines,
beneath the gray sky.
2
Come to me, Winter.
Welcome to your birthing day.
Now comes earnest play
3
Frozen crystal’s fall,
soft togetherness blankets.
In footprints, pool slush.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
The words I write every day are so often about how I am feeling in the moment. Sometimes I feel strong, sometimes I feel vulnerable, sometimes I am unsure what I am feeling.
I try to understand all my emotions and cherish them.
Weather I am happy or sad, the ability to feel at all is a gift I am thankful for.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Photos sourced from Unsplash.ca
My kids were watching Brain Child the other day. The show was talking about creativity. I caught the part about how as you age you can lose it. “Now don’t you feel bad for your Mom and Dad?” I asked. They answered with a resounding, “YES!”
It’s true that “adulting” is not always conducive to living a creative life. It can drain us of our energy. Bills to pay, responsibilities to take care of, expectations to live up to.
Later, I was still thinking about it. I asked myself, “so what are you going to do about it?” It’s my creativity, it’s my job to make sure I don’t let it die.
See, I know what it is like to go for years, unable to create. Do you? Those were painful years. My head was in a terrible place. I stayed there way too long. I hadn’t written or drawn anything for years. Then a friend invited me to a paint night at a local artist’s gallery. I can never thank that friend enough. The joy I experienced that night while pushing paint around on a canvas was painful. I was like a dead thing coming back to life.
I loved it so much I asked all my sisters and closest friends to go with me again for my birthday. The night we went I was exhausted, cranky, and had a migraine. When I left I felt alive. My headache gone. Now the weeks and months I don’t get to paint regularly, I feel the activities absence. It becomes an ache inside of me.
Every human being is capable of creativity. Not only capable, but it is part of what makes us human. I believe creativity lives inside of YOU. Do you?
After finding my love of painting, suddenly the words inside of me came back to life. I have been writing like a mad woman ever since. Creativity lights the human spirit. It gives us wings. When we feed it, it grows and multiplies.
In the middle of a global pandemic, the entire world is tired, lonely, and stressed. I want to encourage you to be creative. If you don’t think your creative, your wrong. Get out the paper and crayons. Or maybe going for a walk outside and collecting leaves to make a collage is more your style. Go to the beach and make pictures in the sand. Do you live somewhere, where winter is blowing in like I do? Get or make a zen garden to play with. Make a snowman or crochet a scarf. There are so many ways to let your creativity shine.
Do you know what my favourite part of being creative is? It’s the part where it’s okay to be terrible at what you’re doing. Being good at it really doesn’t matter. It’s the doing that’s important.
So today or tomorrow make something. Then come back and tell me about it. I want to know what you did. Let’s stay creative together, and in doing so, let’s shine on this lonely earth.
When we are creative, I believe we are walking in God’s footsteps. I believe whether or not you share my faith, you where created in the image of God, the very essence of creativity. I can feel his presence when I create. Can you?
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Photo by Dragos Gontariu on Unsplash
Stand on the threshold
the confessional of prayer.
Standing never kneeling
unbelief hangs in the air.
Say words despite feeling
no one is really there.
Recite the memorized
without feeling, love or care.
Tradition of a motion
learned while very young.
Hands to fold eyes to close
songs that have been sung.
Knowledge that was planted
yet never truly learned.
Leaves emptiness,
righteousness unearned.
Stepping from the threshold
time to make a choice.
Can you hear God calling you?
Or only your own voice
Unbelieving pray
I believe is still a door.
Desire for belief
a seed with faith it’s core.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
A collection of six word stories.
Fog might obscure our path from time to time, but I am choosing to remember the path is still there and won’t move.
Not only that, but mist is proof of the moisture that hangs in the air. The proof of life giving water. Proof of the cycle that water takes from lake to atmosphere and back again.
Freedom to make that choice is the key, isn’t it? We are all giving ourselves to something or someone. May it ever be a free choice.
Photos sourced from unsplash.com
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
“I’m tired,” said the Body,
to its brother, Mind.
“The pain within this shell
leaves me so confined.”
“I’m tired,” said the Mind,
to its sister Soul.
“The heaviness I feel
threatens my control.”
“I’m tired,” said the soul,
to its God above.
“The weariness around me
is muffling my love.”
“I hear you,” said the Father,
to his child’s whole.
“I see the toil and strife
is taking quite a toll.”
Then the father wept
He shared his child’s pain
Tears slid down God’s face
To mix with earthly rain.
It pooled in the puddles.
Scattered over stones.
It rang on ever roof,
in muted flowing tones.
A lullaby of grief,
harmonized with love.
Tucked child in
with night a woollen glove.
As the morning rose
to kiss the sky with pink.
Child’s eyes opened
and Body gave a blink.
Mind acknowledged pain
as Body stretched to sit.
But Soul still held its payer
refusing now to quit.
“I’m not quite as tired,”
said body to its mind.
Mind reflected quietly,
now with Soul aligned.
“I hear the prayer inside me,”
said mind to body’s pain.
“Even though this day,
will bring another strain.
I feel Father’s love.
I heard it through the night.
Soul remembers well
God’s goodness and His might.”
Though the body weak
It leaned on Mind’s new will.
Mind held on to Soul,
Still drinking in her fill.
From lullaby to bird song,
outside the windowpane,
God’s love was still flowing.
Its refrain would never wane.
“The will to carry on.
The strength to carry more.
Thank you, God, for holding me.
Show me what’s in store.
I long to hear you more.”
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
My second small collection of six word stories.
Sometimes I search for a photo to match the words rolling around in my head. Sometimes I see a picture first, and it speaks to me.
I am trying to teach myself to find words and emotions in places picture that do not always naturally speak to me.
What about you? Do you find words popping up as you look at these images? I would love to know what they are. Let me know by leaving a moment.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Photose sourced from unsplash.com
God, do you paint the day?
Splash the colours for our play?
What about the bluest Jay?
Did you smile on his making day?
God, do you paint the light?
Bounce it off the moon just right?
Give us shadows, darker night?
Fireflies to ease our fright?
God, do you paint each life?
Murals filled with pain and strife.
Canvases scraped by a knife,
To add an edge, depth and life.
God, did the oils stain?
Your hands, feet, marks to gain.
Shows you as the artist reigns.
Would you paint this world again?
God, are you finished yet?
Do you over details fret?
Start again, while paint still wet?
Time to let the colours set?
What will the painting be,
When you’re done with all of me?
When you’re done, will we be free?
Then maybe we could all agree…
Thank you for this painted day.
Despite the pain, the delay.
In the end, you’ll have your way.
True colours put on full display.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Infinite scroll
while you’re searching.
To fill the black hole
you’re searching.
She gave you a like
in friends, there’s a spike.
You’re searching.
“Time to have lunch?”
“No, I’m searching.”
“In a time crunch?”
“Ya, I’m searching.”
Not sure how to stop,
on comments eavesdrop,
while you’re searching.
Are you numb to the loss
while you’re searching?
It comes with a cost,
all this searching.
The people out there
could never compare
to the ones who still wait,
while you’re searching…
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
I find briefness powerful, yet elusive. In the last few weeks, I have taken to trying to cultivate it in my own work by writing six word stories.
It’s an exercise I am enjoying.
Do you write six word stories? Or some other kind if micro fiction?
What form of short prose do you find most impactful? I would love to know the answers to these questions, and what you think of the three I share with you today.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Photos sourced from unsplash.com
