How the Flood Made Me Creative Again

I know, it's been awhile since I last picked up a needle and thread. However, this past week brought about a situation that has allowed me to return to my studio. As you may know (or may not know, as the national news coverage was pathetic), middle Tennessee was hit by a devastating flood. It is with much thankfulness that I can report no extensive damage to our home and the safety of our family. Unfortunately, so many are not able to say the same. Perhaps the greatest impact the flood brought to our family was the loss of Caroline's school and our church (which are in the same building). The school was so damaged that they decided to close for the remainder of the year and are in the process of gutting and rebuilding all of the classrooms. Therefore, we are officially on summer vacation...with absolutely no plans of any kind. Camps don't begin for another month, I haven't stocked up on any new games or craft supplies and the pools aren't open yet. So we have found ourselves doing a bit of thumb-twiddling and looking around for something to occupy our days.

Just one day after the flood, we were feeling particularly overwhelmed, hearing all the news of people, including our friends, who had lost lives, homes, pets and everything except the clothes on their back. We spent much of that day sorting through items we could donate to victims. Despite the cloud of sadness over our community, the sun was shining brightly, so we took a break and went outside to pick some flowers from the garden. A stark foil to the wreckage around us, the garden was bursting with blooms, new growth and beauty. It seems a 500 year flood was the force needed to encourage two rose bushes, which have remained feeble and bare for the past five years, to thrive and bloom. Inspired by our floral bounty, Caroline and I got into a Georgia O'Keefe mindset, pulled out some paint and captured the moment:

It was just the creative push I needed to yank me out of my carpooling, committee-working, workout-scheduling, social commitment wrangling, mom-on-the-go stupor. Not to lament my rat-race lifestyle, which I'm certain will return in full swing very shortly, because I love my life and love the pace at which we live--it is what allows me to be surrounded by the wonderful people I call my friends. But I am certainly appreciative of the quiet days that we have been having recently. They have allowed us to do some things that we never would have found the time to do, like paint freshly picked flowers from the garden, stocking the pantry and freezer with baked goods, and teaching Caroline how to sew!

I had decided to use my time at home to design a birthday dress for one of Caroline's friends. When Caro asked if she could sew with me, I originally pulled out her play machine, which is broken and without actual sewing capability because we lost the needle eons ago. On a whim, I dragged her little table and chair set into the studio, grabbed some fabric scraps, put my Pfaff in front of her and showed her how to make a seam, backstitch and turn a square. We attached a ribbon and called it a purse! She proceeded to make purses for all of her neighborhood friends:

Today, she progressed to making beanbags for hopscotch and playing catch. My daughter is much like me in that she has a drive to make things. Hence, the reason I am constantly picking up little pieces of cut up paper all over the house, scraping glue and paint off of furniture and doing Internet searches for interesting cooking and craft projects. It is the reason we have a freezer full of banana nut muffins at the moment.

While that drive to create often manifests in what looks like domestic proficiency, what with all the baking and sewing it typically produces, I think that the household benefits are secondary to the emotional rewards we are seeking. Deep down, I still have an artist's spirit, despite the fact that my life rarely resides in the studio these days. I still seek to relate to my world by making something. Perhaps it is my guilt over not being able to volunteer my time-no one wants a 5 year old in a disaster area and it seems a better use of my money to donate to victims rather than hire a babysitter-but whatever it is that's making us so artistic and culinary, I'll try to enjoy expressing it as much as possible. All too soon, I know life will return to normal, the play dates are already starting to stack up and other plans are being made to fill in this unexpected time we were gifted. I doubt a handmade bean bag, a muffin or even a sweet birthday dress will help overcome the great loss around us, but maybe it will bring a smile to our faces and that happiness will spread to someone who needs it.