Let me tell you about my bathroom art.
The first piece is one I forgot I even had, and only discovered it when packing for our move last year. Frame is a bit cheap, and the “mat” is drawn by hand with marker, but I love looking at this one.
The second piece, entitled “Hope’s Drawing of Her Mom,” has a more modern look. Bold brushstrokes, vibrant color, and a startling likeness to the subject matter.
The simple drawing of the five little girls in the tub came from my grandma’s house. My four sisters and I used to visit her, crowd her and Grandpa’s house with our bags, shoes, toys and noise. Leave our fingerprints on the windows and walls, our crumbs on the floor. I worried that maybe sometimes they didn’t want us there. That five little girls all at once was just TOO much. Then I’d see this picture hanging in her bathroom and I’d realize not only did she love us, she was proud of us, and thankful for us. And she wanted a reminder of us when we weren’t there. Looking at that piece of art made me feel cherished, and it still does.
The watercolor painting was, you probably guessed, done by one of my young daughters. It’s a portrait of me when I was eight months pregnant, and I love it. A friend saw this one hanging in my house once and said, “Couldn’t you have picked a more flattering picture to frame?” I just laughed. What looks like a pregnant muppet to everyone else just looks like love to me, created and given by sweet four-year-old hands.
A few nights ago as I brushed my teeth, I studied that drawing of the girls in the bathtub and thought about the impact that artist had on me. I doubt many know the name Julie Corsover. But her work has very special meaning to me. And I’m sure no one else is interested in the painting my daughter made for me, but again, it means a great deal to me.
We live in a “think big” world, where we derive value from the biggest splash we can make. We strive to impact, reach, influence, touch the greatest number of people we possible can. I’m no different. How I would love to see my books on library shelves all across the nation, to be like Harper Lee and write something that touches countless people. Not to say it’s wrong for me to have this lofty goal. The problem comes when I start to think that unless I’ve achieved this goal, all my writing is worthless.
Then there’s the conversation I had with my friend Laura a few days ago. She was telling me about a friend who is preparing for work in the foreign mission field. I felt a stab of insignificance as we talked as I compared my life to this other person’s. My life’s work is not nearly so important as that. Becoming a full time missionary? That’s a BIG thing. That’s something that impresses people. Being a stay-at-home mom? Not so much.
But here’s the thing my bathroom art has reminded me: I have been called to be a mom, and a fledgling writer, and have been blessed with these jobs. They’re mine to throw my heart and soul into and do to His glory. It’s God’s to decide what fruit will be born from the seeds I sow. Who can know, in the end, what is more valuable or meaningful? To reach many with a big splash or to leave a lasting impression on just one?
Keep doing what YOU are called to do, invest your time and talents in those God has placed in your life. Then let Him decide whether your work will produce a quiet ripple, a big splash, or a tidal wave that brings glory to Him.