The dogwoods dance and twirl in the wind outside my window along with the tall oaks that dance higher in the sky, housing the owls that hoot in the afternoon or evening. The dogwood’s magnificence is in their smallness. They hide, only displaying splendor during the blooming of spring, when their white buds out them among the wilds everywhere. They are frail and spindly, and I love them so. The oaks, of course, find magnificence in their height. They go up and up and up while the core of them grows ever wider, always stronger. Their arms snake and curl, no form exactly the same, as they wind through the mighty sky looking always for the light. They bend and twirl and give their praise to the Father on High, unseen. His wind bids their praises. The pines hide deeper into the woods, and they dance too. They dance harder and faster and bend more often, their core not quite as strong, even though they climb just as high as the robust oak. They are skinnier, easier to fall and become uprooted in the stronger gusts of winds that come along. What a display of splendor created by the King! Sometimes, I wonder if I am a pine, a dogwood, an oak, or something in between.
I have not always loved it here, this home where I live. Our home is for sale, but the process is not going quickly, and I know all too well all the reasons why. Our home is modest and it sits in between. Partly in one county, partly in the other. In the county we claim as home, we get to go to top rated schools. In the other county where the majority of the homes in our neighborhood rest, they travel many miles to go to school, in schools that are not quite as nice or so people say. Many of the homes are dilapidated and falling down, many sit empty from being foreclosed on, and the rest have a lot of character. In the front of our home, we look out to the cul-de-sac, and see the one county, the county we are not a part of, but have made friends with. In the back, we look out into the county we live in, the county that takes us to school, into the forest where the deer, rabbit, and owls live (not to mention the snakes or the time we watched a snake fall out of tree while dining on a squirrel), where the creek runs (where my son almost drowned). There are only three homes in the neighborhood in the county we go to school in. Each of the three homes boast children of different ages. Ours from 10 to 6. The neighbors from 18 to 15. And then kids that have graduated and are attending college or getting ready to graduate college. We play and live in between. This is true in more ways that one considering we also homeschool one of our kids.
It is really hard to live in between. My theory is because we want to be in a particular community with similar people. Erwin McManus in his book, The Artisan Soul, invites people to divide into groups and then tells them each to come up with a team color. Each person is to pick his top two colors. Whatever the majority chooses as their favorite becomes the group color. If there is a tie, then it goes down to the second favorite. Always, without question, each team becomes blue, whether you are forced to conform to the group and didn’t pick blue at all. In the same chapter, he alludes that the beauty of having a Creator is that we are created to be creative and that the choices we make, the way we choose to live is weaving together as a work of art. This means that my life displays a distinct creative beauty, but so does yours. I am reminded of Emily Freeman’s A Million Little Ways and Ephesians 2:10 which says that,
“We are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”
That word masterpiece also means workmanship and poem.
Our creative lives come from a creative God. We are walking poems.
Maybe we don’t have to be either or, even though everyone is screaming “BE THIS WITH ME!” because Jesus has called us His poem, and He says, “Be with me.”
And so we sharpen one another and give reason for others to grow and others do the same for us, because we are not the same.
Maybe it is quite okay to live in between because it is the art you were created to live in – at least for the moment.
As a recovering people pleaser, there is something powerful about knowing that it is okay, maybe even part of His creative plan for me to be different. It is good to know and receive that conformity is not the goal.
“Do not be conformed by the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve God’s will, His good, pleasing, and perfect will.” Romans 12:2
What if it is our distinctive passions, instincts, and choices that create the space for His love to be seen to the world? Could we at least sit and admire one another’s artwork even if it is not what we would choose to do (assuming our choices are godly choices)?
What if we are pines, dogwoods, and oaks climbing toward the sky in a chorus of praise, working in tandem to create a beautiful kaleidoscope of color?
Maybe the dogwoods are inspired to grow more steadfast as they watch the oaks, but maybe the oaks are inspired by the smallness and humble dignity of the dogwood hiding. Maybe the pines want to grow deeper roots watching the oaks, and maybe the dogwood longs to stay green all year round like the pine, growing even higher toward the Light. Maybe each one is a beautiful story depending on the other.
But what if we are a dogwood grafted into another?
Even we, us Christians, sit grafted into the Israelites. Being in between, partly Gentile, but party chosen, we are still for the display of splendor created by the King.
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