Hebel Hebelim

Breath of Wind, O Breath of Wind ...

All is the Breathing of Wind and Spinning of Air 

(Ecclesiastes)

There are sometimes when I remember all I ever wanted to do growing up was to draw.  Those days are Saturday evenings, when I turn on the radio's folk music, voices and stories.  When I set the light on some common and neglected part of my life.  A few hours and a pair of sincere eyes are all you need.  The secret to good art is just paying attention.  In those immediate moments, I'm that younger me, with scribbled leaves of paper lying scattered all over the living room floor.  I always dreamed of being an artist when I was older (My middle name is 'Ward' and that's just 'draw' spelled backwards).  But when I went to college, I stopped studying art.  I traded my studio for a study.  I moved on to the more reliable and lucrative profession of theology (God's a great boss, but there are some who pay better; not that it really bothers me).  But really how different is studying the Creator of art from studying the art of creation?  Paying attention is prayer.  Being able to appreciate the gift your eyes are giving you in this moment is grace and ευχαριστω.  Pencil marks and paper might not be the shoes themselves, but they aren't meant to be.  The articulations of theology are not God Himself, but they're not meant to be.  Rather sketches and theology are invitations of perspective: Look at these shoes how I do.  Look at Him how I do.  I may have volumes riddled with marginalia or lecture notes on my desk, but Saturdays remind me that no matter how many people (if ever) call me 'Dr. Granger' or how far I seem to have come, I am always still going to be that little kid with scribbled papers falling to the floor as he slowly learns how to pay attention.