A little over a year ago, I was walking through one of my favorite places—a local craft store—and picked up a book on Zentangles for my daughter. My girl has a distinct artistic bent, and I thought she’d have fun with these doodles.
Well, it wasn’t long until she was begging me to sit with her and try them.
“Babe,” I said. “I canNOT do those.” Big emphasis on the not.
But she persisted, batting her little girl eyelashes. So I sat my “haven’t had an art class since I was 12” self down to spend time with my girl. It was a decision based on the knowledge that it wouldn’t be long before I was too uncool to hang with the girls.
And boy was I surprised.
Not only did I enjoy creating shapes and patterns, shading and texture, I was actually kind of good at this Zentangle thing.
Around the same time, I edited a book for my day job—Control Girl by Shannon Popkin. Now, I’m not your typical type-A control girl, but I definitely like things to go my way. Shannon and I hit it off and we’ve become friends.
If you’ve been around me any length of time, you know that I have trouble being still. And that’s despite the fact I think stillness is critical to a life well-lived. As I read Shannon’s book and as we talked, I realized that Zentangling was a way for me to be still in my moments with my daughter. It was a small thing…a little moment of releasing control in obedience and kindness.
But here’s where mysterious things just happened.
It didn’t take Shannon and I long to realize that I wasn’t just drawing for me and my girl. I was drawing for you—
For all of you out there struggling with holding tight, clinging to control when you and I both know life is uncontrollable…when we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are not enough.
And that’s where a book was born.
Instead of just drawing for me, I started drawing for you, praying for you as I did. Praying that when you sat down with my book, Reflections on Surrender, you would color my humble sketches and find peace, a stillness that’s beyond all understanding.
When I was willing to try something small, something new, I found a blessing that extended far beyond me and my family.
Wishing you a blessed Christmas.
Get your own copy over on Amazon. Or, if you’re local, drop me a line for a discount.