Beholding, making & surviving.
I’m not usually a huge TV person. I have my same comfort shows I go back to over and over on cozy nights after the kids go to bed, but I don’t usually branch out a whole lot.
However: I have a confession to make. When I hit my third trimester of pregnancy, I get completely, totally hooked on cooking competitions.
I don’t know if it’s my insane food cravings, the satisfaction of watching actual chefs stressfully sprint around a kitchen as I stir mac and cheese for my toddler, or the sticky nature of reality shows that makes me keep coming back and watching these. I just know that all four times I’ve been pregnant, third-trimester me really loves these shows. Like, a lot.
The funniest thing to me is how my brain changes when I’m in a cooking show phase. In general I’ll almost never use a recipe when I cook: the meals I make are very simple and repeatable. But when I’m in a Top Chef phase, I’m googling stuff. I’m making room in our Walmart delivery budget for new ingredients. I’m actually thinking about what I’m making for dinner for more than five seconds—and occasionally I’m enjoying the process of cooking instead of just making sure no one starves.
We become what we behold, I suppose.
I’ve been thinking a lot about beholding and becoming these days. It’s not a surprise that what we consume and the things we dwell on play themselves out through the way we focus and talk and live. Garbage in, garbage out and all that. But I’ve also been realizing that making shapes beholding.
Okay—here’s what I mean. A few years ago, I was planning a baby shower for my sister-in-law. We did a forest animal theme and one of my DIY projects for the shower involved making a piece of decor out of a branch. It had to be just the right kind of branch, not too bendy or twisty. And every time I went for a walk on our wood-lined street, I was scanning the side of the road, looking for my perfect branch. Even after I did the project, for like a month after the shower I was subconsciously scanning the woods whenever I went for a walk.
When I’m working on a home project, everywhere I go, I catch myself picking up on color combinations and visual balance. It doesn’t matter if I’m standing in a Homegoods or looking at the flower bed next to my midwife’s office—the design-y part of my brain is on, and it refuses to shut up.
When I was in the final stage of edits for His Burden is Light, it felt like so much of regular life turned into writing fuel. A line of my favorite song; morning light hitting the curtains; snippets of my kids’ conversations; a quote I scrolled past. Everything was helping me filter down points I was processing and arrive at conclusions I was excited to share.
This is so much of the reason I love making time for creativity, even while I’m in demanding stages of motherhood. Creativity doesn’t just allow me to make things that I really want to exist, in my home, in my day and in the world—it changes the way I see. Making shapes beholding. Making beauty makes me notice beauty.
I can only imagine how this feels for pals who are full-time creatives. My best friend is an illustrator (she painted this whole entire book, are you kidding me) and I just know she was living with a color palette permanently fixed in her eyesight while she did this project. But no matter what form your creativity takes, whether it’s teaching your kids, baking, designing, organizing, writing, or something I’ve never even heard of, I’m going to bet that if it reflects God’s creative nature, that form of creativity is training you to behold beauty.
Here’s the thing though: I am tired. Maybe you are too.
I’m currently in the stage of pregnancy where no amount of Tums can quell my heartburn. I am fully waddling everywhere I go. I think my darling little boy can tell when I’m just about to fall asleep, and that’s when he prefers to shove his head into my hip joint. I am feeling strong and so absolutely beyond amazed by the miracle that my body is creating a whole life from scratch, and I can also feel my capacity shrinking rapidly as I get through these last few weeks. Creating sounds exhausting.
Guess what always seems to happen when I’m creating less? I end up consuming more. Scrolling, online shopping and Top Chef-ing. And, unavoidably, I am reminded all over again that I become what I behold. When I let myself behold the equivalent of potato chips for my brain with no checks in place, I end up scattered and empty with a headache.
Maybe when we notice that our capacity in a certain season doesn’t give us much margin for creativity, it needs to be a sign to stop consuming so much.
And maybe we don’t need to suddenly switch our entertainment over to all the “right” things—like books or podcasts or advice we think will make us better—maybe we just need to choose quietness.
Maybe we don’t need to swap in more friend meetups in place of desperation get-me-out-of-this-house trips to Target. Maybe we just need some nothing time to fully rest and reset and sit on the floor with our kids.
Maybe, when we notice that we’re consuming too much, stillness is the better choice.
Stillness creates space for confusion to be untangled, for thoughts to complete themselves, for the Holy Spirit to speak. Stillness almost can’t help but fuel our creativity. And creativity fuels our capacity, whether we’re using that creativity to just come up with the solutions we need to be faithful in our day with our kids or we’re creating some kind of art that feeds our soul.
Here are some more things that fuel me and my creativity when my energy is low or I’m in survival mode:
My Bible open on the counter with one verse highlighted to meditate on
Red meat and lotsa fruit—preferably together for that vitamin c/iron combination
Getting outside
Quiet music—in style and also in volume level
Magnesium
Single-tasking
More things that fuel me when I have slightly more capacity:
Exercise (any form)
A podcast that inspires me in whatever form of creativity I’m currently delving into
Decluttering—the less stuff I have to manage, the clearer my brain feels and the more efficiently our house runs
Welcoming my kids into the things I want to grow in.
I talk all about this topic in His Burden is Light, along with a bunch of other things pertaining to joy and motherhood and creativity. I would love to spend time with you in this workshop if it would meet you in the season you’re in.
If our making shapes our beholding, let’s make as much beauty as we can.
If we become what we behold, let’s behold the character of our Maker.
And if we’re surviving, let’s watch a little less Top Chef. Unless it makes our cooking more beautiful. In that case, see above.
