Writing Jesus’s Name in the Dust

“I just love writing Jesus’s name in the dust,”  an acquaintance quoted her now ex-mother-in-law saying as they finished up a tour of the new home and life she and her partner had begun back in home territory after being gone for years and years.  I shared my story of a business guest noting after dinner, that “dusting isn’t really that important is it?”   My story was at least free of any lifestyle commentary, but we still laughed at the veiled disapproval and passive aggressive stance of “but I was really agreeing with you.”  I think not.

So here I am dusting someone else’s house and tempted by the light felted canvas on each surface, wanting to add a heart or smiley face or my name, tempted by that virgin space as cave dwellers, tree carvers, wet sidewalk signers and graffiti artists have been for ages.  Even my cat turned into a billboard, her pure white sides calling for decoration.  So one Christmas to amuse the kids – what was I thinking – I outlined a green Christmas tree on her side with washable, non-toxic marker (no animals were hurt in this process, only embarrassed).  Of course the kids shrieked in glee, but I had not thought through the consequences, that it opened the door of what next.  There was a year or so that Snowball sported many the seasonal symbol, but the fun stopped when both pre-teen and cat had hot pink hair.  Everyone got a bath then and the line was drawn.  No more decorating the cat.  But express ourselves we must,  and spray bottles and food color were purchased and the snowy yard turned into a 4-color diorama of sharks and waves and snow swimmers.  It was great.

So here’s to all those artists big and small, to expressing ourselves and encouraging others to let it out.  It makes me feel like Peter Pan, hands on hips ready to crow, “I did that!”  The expansive freedom of seeing a thought or idea come to life is so exhilarating, it becomes the definition of life itself, and I can’t wait for what’s next.