Age is Just a Number: I Did Great Corn

I made my first public appearance in 4th grade. It was about this time nearly 4 decades ago – close to Thanksgiving. Picture a slightly taller than average, skinny kid, wearing long tunic/gypsy-style dresses to cover the most horrible beige orthopedic shoes with braces up to my knees worn to correct a flaw. A clever shoe salesman convinced my parents that, because my toes apparently slightly tipped in when I walked, I’d be an embarrassing cripple – Lord knows we can’t be pigeon-toed. If I remember correctly, being ashamedly humbled by these appliances, I corrected my own dang toes.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Thanksgiving time, 4th grade. In our classroom, I remember the teacher was involving us in the whole Thanksgiving story, decorations and all, and there was to be a mural low along the brick wall below the windows. Somehow I was outed that I could draw. I am guessing, since after this length of time the memory isn’t like it was in the 4th grade, that I doodled a lot and some kid looked at my desk and said “Hey! She draws Good Corn!” and that’s all it took before I found myself with crayons in hand drawing corn, and probably Indians and Pilgrims and a few Turkeys sprinkled in between. I won’t take credit for the whole mural, since I am sure the teacher involved lots of other kids, but I sure remember spending a long time on a long piece of paper on my hands and knees doing a whole lot of drawing – feeling privileged to do something that was easy. I used to sit at my desk after and study it. I think half the paper was an up-close field of corn.

This came to mind after someone, last evening, asked me if I’ve always done murals – in reference to my current foray into mass painting. No, I told her because I am a detail kind of gal, but then this morning I remembered The Corn incident at Thanksgiving in 4th grade. Now, I bring this up because I’ve had this particular urge to remain anonymous. I figured this was for some Noble Reason, like not wanting to take credit for where God is due, and not wanting to detract from the God purpose in the mural painting I am currently doing, and mostly, not to get a Big Fat Head. You know, though, it always seems to thread back to some childhood trauma that psychiatrists would love to add to their repertoire of test subjects to substantiate their current thesis in some well known journal.

In this case, it’s my dad. Not the psychiatrist, rather, the trauma. My dad was an artist – not the paint and brush stroke kind – he carved mother of pearl, jade, did all kinds of lapidary stuff, and really, put any kind of implement in his hands and he’d create something, including music. However, his fault was that he liked flattery. Any stranger who entered his home would get “The Tour” of his lapidary shop, and depending on their interaction, patience and interest, more parts of the house and property where my dad put his hand to something. And at the end? They’d get a gift. A gift of something he’d made – nearly always valuable. This in itself was not a bad thing. What I remember was that a gift I opened at Christmas was a broken piece, glued back together. However, once after I’d done some amazing creative things for my age, my dad said “You’re getting kind of vain aren’t you…..?”.

The whole jumbled-up trauma-part of this in adult terms, is that strangers who flattered my dad got the good goods and I got the leftovers, and so therefore I was not going to be bamboozled by flattery and compliments because that’s what caused you to hand out your valuable stuff to people you’d never see again, and if you listened to flattery and compliments you’d get a Big Fat Head. Thus, my nature to remain anonymous…for what I thought were Noble Reasons. Well, really I think I have Noble Intent, in this arena of mural painting; it is for God purposes and it ain’t about me. The sad truth, though, is that Satan has been doing a great deal more creative work than I have. He has worked long and hard to find ways to destroy my joy with this God-given talent.

Think of the recognition you’d get if you put your name out there.
I’ll work hard to remain anonymous, because I crave the compliments and flattery and I’ll get a Big Fat Head.

Think of the big bucks you could make if you got better at it.
No, I’ll donate whatever I may get for Noble Reasons, and even spend longer and harder hours doing it just to make sure I’ve earned it.

Really, though, you are so average and people are tired of the morose and dark work you do – best give it up to someone more talented.
I hate that last thing I did, I really am average; maybe I should quit. I never claimed to be an artist anyway. Actually, I am not.

Everyone is secretly and openly behind you wondering when you are going to give up this self-indulged, vain attempt at what you call God-given talent.
Maybe if I hang my head and avert my eyes, nobody will approach me with fake compliments and false encouragements.

God is pursuing me though. After 15 years of me burying my skills in the back yard, I know He is and he is working on something – because I’ve finally asked. Whether I do Great Corn or not, whether the compliments are fake or real, or whether someone with more talent and /or training steps up take over, I know it is not about me. God wants me to do Great Corn for some Good Reason.

Comments

God does want you to do Good Corn, and by cracky, you do some seriously Good Corn. God never sends us on a mission for which he does not equip us, that what gifts and talents are all about. I don't know His purposes, either, for many of the things I end up doing, but I know He gave you a wonderful gift and you should feel proud. It's not about your big head, it's about His glory. It's just beautifully fine to be proud of a gift that God gave you.

Posted by: Stephanie | Nov 18, 2007 at 05:15 PM