Generational Blessings

I'm sitting in a comfy chair next to my writing desk writing. Why am I not sitting at my desk? Because normally I keep a table cloth on it that is currently in the dryer. This desk is important to me. I don't want it scratched.

This antique desk, really a library table, has been passed down in my family. My mother has told me stories of her grandfather sitting next to it smoking his pipe. My mother kept it as a prominent feature in our home as I grew. I demanded it from her when I got my first home. My one son has already laid claim to it when I pass.

My great-grandfather who sat next to it smoking his pipe - I wonder what thoughts went through his head as he sat there? Was he contemplating bills? Family? The farm? Or was he listening to the radio? Listening to the news? Listening to a story broadcast mesmerized by the images it conjured up in his mind? Did he sit and gaze at his wife as the dinner she cooked digested in his stomach? Did he wonder how he was going to handle his child's discipline after what happened that day? So many thoughts over the years he sat at this desk.

In our home, it was the center of family photos, untouchable breakables, and the place for the occassional bouquet of flowers. At Christmas, the treasured creche was placed in the center, and all of us were expected to stand at least a foot back from the table creating an extra sense of awe and wonder. Don't touch! During long summers when school was out, the board under the table was a wonderful second floor for Barbie's home decor. But, careful! That board was not all that sturdy when we had it. It still isn't. I yelled at my kids about it, too.

After my kids left, I began to use it for what a library table was originally intended. I use it to read, write, and create. It's a natural creative space. I don't know who's hands made it. It's lovely. It has survived a very long time. It's simple in design. It doesn't need intricate carvings. The natural oak wood delivers all the asthetics it needs. The legs have the curve of a woman's body - God's own handiwork exhibited in wood, with an extra toe curl at the feet like a woman properly kissed - gently, softly. The feminine legs hold up the masculine table top. Thick, strong, sturdy with the sharp edges cut and sanded down so as not to hurt anyone who walks past.

It's a simple desk, and I love it. I told my kids they will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands. It's coming with me if I end up in a nursing home.

It's a table intended for mental creativity. That's what I love most about it. I do feel like creating when I am around it. It soothes my mind while prompting it to work, to think, to contemplate.

Humans are creatures of thought. We are wired that way. We are all creatives in some capacity. Most don't think of themselves like that. People fail to recognize that problem solving skills are creativity skills. In math, science, medicine, art, cooking, fixing a confusing automotive issue, decorating a home, along with writing, music, sculpture, painting, at all skill levels and at all ages. Even a baby learning a new way to tell a caregiver, "I want that cookie," is a creative moment happening. Creativity is an important life skill that requires use and mental nourishment.

I bring this up because with all the traumas I went through, my ability to be creative was either stolen from me and needed to be rediscovered, or was suppressed and needed to be excavated from my broken heart. Creativity is more than problem solving. It's healing, spiritual preservation, internal expression, and a path to joy.

When arts are eliminated from schools and homes, when children and adults are not given permission to be creative, it's a detriment not only to the individual but to society as a whole; because, creativity is also a means of communication, a sharing of ideas and feelings that cannot be fully expressed with words that others are also trying to comprehend or express. We all have shared experiences with someone out there.

Imagine love without art, without poetry, without expression. It seems dull and boring. Creativity brings color to a black and white world of facts and figures.

When in the throes of broken-heartedness, reach for a pen, pencil, paints, or a book to embrace someone else's expression of what they went through that resonates. It will help, I promise.

This desk is precious to me because it embodies generations of heartbreak and soul searching, deep thought, and creativity that has been passed down to itty bitty Sarah. By sitting at this desk, I sit at their feet and listen.

Do you have a precious heirloom passed down through the generations that you love? Do you a favorite way of expressing your creative side? Do you have a way of nourishing the creative spirit within?

Thanks for reading!

Sarah

Humor In Chaos

Shoot me an email at humorinchaos@gmail.com

Find me at www.humorinchaos.com where you can also find my Humor In Chaos Podcast.

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