There’s something about sitting on a balcony watching ocean waves that invites you to contemplate life. Do you know what I mean?
Something about the rhythm of the water makes you think about choices and dreams and next steps… while also wondering if the young girl on the beach realizes she desperately needs more material in that swimsuit.
My sisters and I are on our annual beach trip, celebrating Mom’s birthday and remembering her life while we’re here.
And today, while staring at the waves and thinking about how I want to create this season of my life, my brain unexpectedly zig-zagged back to 5th grade.
Art class.
Oh dear.
I was not good at art class.
Painting and drawing did not bring me joy. They brought me anxiety.
I wanted my artwork to look perfect. Exactly like the teacher’s sample. And if there wasn’t a sample?
Even worse. Then I had to invent perfection from scratch.
Meanwhile, I spent half the class secretly checking what everyone else was creating.
Was theirs better? Brighter? More artistic?
Did their trees actually look like trees?
Did their paint smudge too?
Was I the only student creating what appeared to be a weather emergency on construction paper?
Good grief.
And you know, those same thoughts still try to sneak into my brain sometimes when I’m creating a new season of life.
Am I doing this right?
Should my life look different?
Should I be doing what she’s doing?
Am I behind?
It gets tiresome, doesn’t it?
But somewhere between the ocean waves and the memory of that anxious little 5th grader in Miss Condiff’s art class, I remembered something important:
My art never needed to look like someone else’s.
It was mine.
And that made it special.
The truth is, it’s easy to put a whole lot of pressure on ourselves to “create life correctly.” Especially in midlife.
We scroll through Instagram and watch everyone else’s highlight reel and suddenly it feels like they received the secret instruction manual for life while we were absent that day.
But your life was never meant to be a copy of someone else’s painting.
You are creating something unique with the colors and gifts and experiences God has given you.
Some women create bold masterpieces.
Some create quiet beauty.
Some of us are still standing in the art room wondering why everyone else painted graceful swans while ours looks like a duck with emotional baggage floating through a tornado warning.
And that’s OK too.
Because the life you are creating doesn’t need to meet someone else’s criteria to be valuable.
It doesn’t need to look like hers.
Or theirs.
Or the woman with the color-coded pantry and matching vacation outfits.
Your life reflects your story.
Your heart.
Your faith.
Your humor.
Your courage.
Your healing.
Your “keep going anyway.”
And that makes it beautiful.
So today, as the ocean keeps rolling in wave after wave, here’s my gentle reminder to both of us:
Create the life God placed in front of you.
Use your colors.
Make room for joy.
Stop staring at everyone else’s paper.
And if your painting occasionally looks like a confused beach storm created by a tired 5th grader?
Welcome to the club.
It’s still a work of art.
