Toward Imagination
“Almost there,” I whispered to myself as I squinted my eyes toward the puffy cumulus clouds. The sky hung above in brilliant blue beckoning me as my pointed toes reached. My body stretched like an arrow in the launch as my hands gripped the chains. As quickly as I almost reached the sky gravity pulled me back. Hauling myself into a sit position with my legs curled under I sailed backward.
This was the tallest swing in any park I had played in. If I were to jump from the highest point I would risk breaking a limb or worse. This was the 1980s before playground equipment had to come under federal regulations. This plaything was an opportunity for escape, thrill-seeking, and imagination.
If I was sad, which as a child seldom occurred to me, it only took a few pumps back and forth to be transfixed into a new atmosphere. The oscillating motion created the space to dream. I was an astronaut, I was a buzzing bumble bee, I was an acrobat.
I felt invincible.
I see the same wonder on my five-year-old's face as he catapults his Lego figure through the air. He makes an epic crash sound with his voice as gravity pulls the toy to the ground. Judah rolls to capture the figure who is obviously in some invisible war. The ammunition from unseen warcrafts causes Judah to summersault casting the tiny man again through the air. Judah is caught up in a story of galactic proportions, but it is time for school and I don’t have the patience for it right now.
“Judah, it’s time to go, please put on your shoes,” I say, gathering his backpack, snack, and lunch box for the day.
He is rolling from his back to tummy with his chin touching the beige carpet and his knees bent with feet in the air. He has socks but no shoes. Where are his shoes?
I scan the floor in the living room. One black shoe with a scuffed green foam toe peeks out from under the loveseat. I frown picking it up, he was in need of a new pair. The black netting on the toe was worn away and the velcro strap on the side was no longer sticking. I found the other shoe wedged under Judah’s body as he continued to play.
“Judah, this is the last call, we need to go now,” I say a little more tense.
He looks up and sighs, “Okay, Mom.”
Soon we are off to school. The side van door slides open and he jumps out to join his classmates lining up by the playground’s gate. He frowns knowing he missed the before-school free time. I gave him a hug as he tried to mentally prepare to shut down his creative world to focus on class and following directions. At home, the fantasy awaits his return.
I once knew the freedom of imagination, but then I grew up.
Do you know what I mean? Have you been there? When playing charades or asked to make up a bedtime story have you felt like you were clearing cobwebs from your brain just to come up with an original thought?
I need to take a ride on that swing again. I need to feel the wind in my unbound hair hanging down toward the earth as my body becomes straight as a pin leaning back to take me up into the clouds. I long to feel the sensation of soaring, almost having wings like a gliding hawk looking out beyond the limits.
It is much easier to live in the sobering land of adulthood. To operate from the same old same old routine. Stuck in the thinking: This is the way life looks and will continue to look.
This is living from history, not toward imagination.
As Judah plays, belly flat on the living room carpet, his mind is full of possibilities. It has been a long time since I played like that. Yet there is power in thinking about and visualizing your dreams. Maybe child’s play is not so foolish after all.
I want to believe there could be a better way.
Recently I have taken a new career path. I am writing full-time with the hopes of publishing my first book later this year, but to turn that corner I had to let go of something I loved. I had to become uncomfortable. I think as a grown-up, I am less willing to stretch or to become uncomfortable. Yet, in the area of faith, God is always challenging us to trust him to take a leap into the unknown.
Almost every Biblical character has a story of believing in God and trusting Him instead of maintaining the status quo or normal life. Abraham left his home and his people merely because God invited him on a journey. Moses left the comfort of his shepherding business to become the leader of the Hebrew exodus out of Egypt. David took on a giant because he trusted God to have his back. Wow, people! Could imagination and faith go hand in hand? What if we considered setting aside the routine to embrace the God-sized dream lurking in our hearts? You know the dream that has surfaced a number of times, but has been shoved down by life’s complexity.
That dream.
Could imagination and faith propel us forward, shooting us up toward the heavens where God has greater plans?
Hmmm???
As I surround myself with other authors I have a growing belief I too could become one. The Lord is the source of this dream. He is reminding me of the many ways he has whispered writing into my heart. It has spilled out in plays and songs for years, I was just too busy to recognize it. The biggest roadblock I face is simply looking back over my shoulder. The habit of bringing up my history can halt my progress. I have emotional hurts, baggage, and failures I still have to work through.
Don’t we all?
You too have a dream inside. Maybe life has been too chaotic to focus on it, but I know God has not forgotten you.
“God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken and will not fulfill it?”
Right now, I find clarity by taking a seat with Jesus. Like being alone on the swing with the chains held firmly in the palms of my hands, I must choose to kick off the dust of the past from my shoes. Believing God is for me, gives me the energy to start the hard work. My legs pump back and forth as I allow myself to imagine the possibilities. Finding new motivation I point my toes toward the clouds. Courage comes in gusts as I continue to fix my eyes on Jesus. Gaining momentum I then find the strength to whisper all the way up beyond the earth, and directly into God’s ear: “Almost there.”
Because we never really arrive in life, the fun is found in the process.
imagination
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imagination 〰️
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