Creating Between Chaos
Holy Spirit, hover here. (Maybe take my phone away while you're near.)
Choose your metaphor. The trough between two waves. The breath between contractions. The eye of the hurricane.
What waits for us on the other side?
After a week like last, before a week like next, I find myself wandering—work, kids, school, house, repeat—wondering what Unprecedented Awful lurks around the corner.
We live in violent, turbulent times. This is who we are. The news gets worse each time we refresh (ironic verb). I know I’ve been asking the same question for months, but how do we keep creating while the world burns?
My to-do list is full of what needs to be made: meals, words, plans. Yet we’re wading through heaps of collective anxiety, traumatic unrest, and widespread uncertainty. No wonder we don’t know where to start or how to keep going.
This morning I gave up on the talk I’m writing and the column that’s due and the house that won’t clean itself. I stepped into the shower and let warm water remind me again of belovedness and baptism, our first callings.
I let the steam clear my mind and return my memory to where creation always starts.
Hovering right above chaos.
Genesis begins with words of darkness and abyss, a mighty wind sweeping over the waters. Translations sing like poetry: the Spirit of God hovering over the surface or moving upon the face of the waters.
What each version names is the same space between the holy and the darkness of the deep. Close enough to kiss but far enough apart to spark light into being.
The light that transforms everything.
This may be the greatest distance we have to traverse, too. The space between hope and fear. The moment between thought and speech. The span between known and unknown.
But the closer we stay to the chaos—not fleeing but pressing close to God’s face, trusting that the Spirit can hover here, too—the more movement and possibility and inspiration we might find.
There is no creation apart from chaos.
Even when our brains feel foggy or our attention spans are sheared to slivers, there is nowhere we can go that God is not. This is the power of omnipresence, the beauty of Emmanuel, and the truth of the Abiding Advocate.
Our call is never to create alone. Vocation means co-creation. Our work is not a solo assignment, but the best kind of group project: the collaboration that doesn’t depend entirely on you.
What if we turned our tasks into petitions? Our to-do lists into invocations? What if we started each day, each hour, each meeting, each conversation with a whispered prayer?
Come, Holy Spirit. Hover here, too.
Could we shake the despair and anxiety that it’s up to us? Could we remember that we live always and everywhere within the mercy of God?
We are staring into the abyss. The darkness is deep.
But make no mistake: a mighty wind is moving over these waters.
Now is not yet the end. We must rise up into today’s callings, the ordinary work and love that keep life going beneath the breath of God.
Feel it hovering over you, too. Pressing you to remember that you were made and meant for such a time as this, broken and bewildering as it may be.
Come, Holy Spirit. Hover here, too.
Glimmers of light for you
My friend Haley wrote about co-creation during the pandemic.
Kate Tempest’s spoken word masterpiece needs to be on repeat again: People’s Faces.
I wrote about how the simple fact of today means God wants the world to go on, for now.
This rewrite of Auld Lang Syne and powerful visuals reminds me to cling to the light.
A delightful poem about Jesus’ own work: “New Year, Good Work” by John Terpstra in Image Journal
“What were his tolerances, professionally?
Could he make it less than perfect? Did he measure
once? And how did he balance the desire to do it well
with the need to get it done?
Let’s support each other
FemCatholic is launching their Rest & Resilience Summit today—perfect if you’re exhausted (and who isn’t?). I’m speaking about rest and vocation: how our callings depend on sabbath. I’m grateful for FemCatholic’s commitment to gather diverse line-ups of speakers, and I’m eager to hear from this wise group.
Spoken Women is a new creative community that I’ve been delighted to watch grow. Check out my recent podcast interview about Create in the Chaos with founder Samantha Stephenson.
Fawnly Prints just released these birth affirmation cards. Yes, they’re a perfect gift for expectant mothers, but I bought myself a set as encouragement for the creative projects I hope to birth this year.
If you’re eager to get a jump-start on Lent, check out Set A Fire from Blessed Is She. They’ve got a great deal to add their book for kids, too. (Or you can get a bundle with my Easter book, Risen.)
A final word of gratitude, after the Epiphany retreat surpassed every hope I had. Thanks to each of you (80 participants!) who gathered from around the world to dive into Scripture, pray together, and start the new year by seeking the light. You’ve inspired me to start dreaming up another virtual retreat for Lent. Stay tuned…
p.s. If you get Columbia magazine, yep – that was us. With rare footage of the abundant quarantine hair flowing in this house.
Peace,
Laura
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Find my books here: Everyday Sacrament | Grieving Together | Prayers for Pregnancy & Birth | To Bless Our Callings | Living Your Discipleship