Spring may not be officially here, but the calla lillies are coming up and our new granddaughter, Gracie, arrived last Friday. And, like the calla lilies beginning to open , there is so much hope and promise in that beautiful package. Grace is simply beautiful, all 8 pounds, 20 inches of her, crowned with a head full of black hair. And like a good caregiver, on the way home our grandson, Jack, said, after giving it sober thought, "I will be a good big brother. I take care of Gracie." It is his first chance to watch something grow, to teach, to be patient, and to help this little girl make her way through life.
And, of course, he will soon decide how she "should be" so that she fits into his life well. But if Gracie is like her mother, she will have a mind of her own. For those of us who write and illustrate we know that in the course of allowing those budding ideas to grow up, we have to sometimes just watch and tend them until they are ready to bloom. There is nothing more exciting than a new idea, but sometimes, stories and art have an idea of their own. The painting above was started a year ago about this time, but I kept trying to make it into something else, something calmer (actually I tried to tame it down to make it look like a pastelist's work that I admire). After a while I put it away, and when I took it out to look at it again, I remembered what it was all about....it was not just about the beauty of the flower but also the energy of spring. So I quit trying to tame it, and let it be what it wanted to.
The same thing has happened with many of my stories, of course. I have to keep getting them out and asking them, "Who are you? What are you made of?" instead of "What can I turn you into?"
So, I could probably learn a deeper meaning to Jack's serious words and apply it to my own work. I will take care of you. I'll let you sleep when you need to, and when you are ready I will help you grow into who you are meant to be.
