Collage of Significance

It is an illusion that writers live more significant lives than non-writers; the truth is, writers are just more in the habit of finding the significance that is there in their lives.

-Vicki Vinton

A couple of years ago I took some painting lessons from an artist friend and each time I went to her studio I fantasized about becoming a professional artist. Watching her effortlessly mix her colors and create beauty out of a blank canvas was magical. Every day she packed up her dogs, and traveled a few short blocks to her cozy little studio, where she would find significance in the insignificant. When I read a memoir or personal essay, some part of me longs to live such a significant life –one that is interesting, humorous, adventurous, reflective, transformational… And then I lift my head and feel disappointed at the ordinary life that I live. A life filled with mundane realities – bills, laundry, dishes, early mornings and early nights.

During Thanksgiving break, I had time and space to watch and see the significance in my life. My spirit took each event in and created a masterpiece of beauty out of my ordinary life.

Pet Rocks and Pumpkin Books

Under my boys’ bunk beds is a clear tub filled with art supplies; paintbrushes, empty paper towel tubes, stickers, coloring books… Early Saturday morning, we emptied most of the tub onto our dining room table, transforming our eating space into creation station. Each of us picked through the pile looking for our own inspiration for brilliance. Zak quickly began elaborately designing a house for his latest pet rock. Greyden designed detailed books about adventurous pumpkin ninjas. For me, it was a magazine collage that would reflect my delight in the moment, as well as my hopes for my week of freedom. We glued scraps, tore magazines, and painted shoe boxes. We rejoiced in each other’s creations. It was pure.

Kitchen Floor

Here is a major difference between Mike and I – he is a night owl and I am an early bird. Not always a good mix. Take these extremes and mix in a little morning stress and you have yourself “the perfect storm.” The day before Thanksgiving, I woke feeling stressed and had begun to create a mental “to do” list even before my head left my comfy pillow. I took my anxiety ridden self to the kitchen to prepare our family breakfast. When Mike emerged from the bedroom I started badgering him with questions, and his response to being pestered was to bury himself deeply within the newspaper. Not a pleasant beginning of the day for either of us. Somehow we were able to push past this very unpleasant routine, and found ourselves plunked down in the middle of the kitchen floor. We were honest and authentic. We laughed, I cried. It was intimate.

Crate&Barrel

Black Friday strikes terror in most people’s hearts. Venturing out at midnight to find the deals strikes terror in my heart. However, an afternoon with my sister, Jessica, without our four boys is true bliss. Our day had a simple pattern – eat a little, talk a lot, shop a little, eat a little, talk a lot, and then talk some more. Crate&Barrel was our final stop of the day. After meandering through the festive dishes we found an inviting little living room. Surrounded by bedroom sets, dining room tables, and delicious colors and textures – we began to discuss important things like design. It was a day of layers. Little by little we worked our way through our lives. We laughed. We enjoyed. We dreamed. It was friendship.