Anna’s fingers tapped the keys as she thought of what the post would be about. Her love of art. She smiled. Music was amazing. She loved it, had even majored in it in college, though the career path didn’t pan out. (How was she supposed to know she couldn’t handle entire classes of kids at once? Especially when they all had loud, unpracticed instruments in their hands?) Anna loved music, but she honestly wasn’t the greatest at it. She had to practice hard to keep up. Sight-reading? Not great. Remembering fingerings? Well, she remembered the keys, but refer to previous point. It gets all scrambled.
She smiled as she remembered the compliment she had received at church that morning on her Facebook album, “Bible Art Journaling.” She hadn’t done any Bible art for a while, but a new Facebook friend had recently discovered the album. She did love doing art in her journaling Bible, thinking deeply about the passage as she created its picture. It was fun to use various mediums as she created.
And words. Anna sure loved writing. She always had, really. Her spelling got better as she advanced in school, and currently, she cringes at misspelled words or grammatical errors. She loves writing dialogue. Music and sound are a strength of hers, after all. She is decent at writing the random blog post about one thing or another. But one of the hardest aspects that Anna struggles with is descriptions. If you’ve never met Anna, you don’t even know what she looks like, because I didn’t include that part of the description.
Anna made a face and hit “enter” too hard to start a new paragraph. She looked down at her hands on the keyboard. The ring on her left hand glimmered in the light of the lamp that was being cast that way. Shaking her head, Anna adjusted the lamp to get rid of the shadows on the left sides of her hands. Having a lamp was helpful, but it was even more so if it didn’t keep drooping too low.
“Hey, Doug,” she called out to her husband (who she refers to as DrH on her blog), “can you read this for me?” After he read what she had written (and laughed, of course), he started talking to her about her love of art. And it was what she needed to hear.
“Anna, before we were married, I didn’t know much about art,” he told her. “But, like this says, you love it. You know, you always ask what you have to give, because you have limitations. Art is something that you can give, and it helps you connect with people.”
Anna smiled as she felt his newly-shaved head of very short hair. “I love you,” she said. “And you’re right.”
“Before I met you,” he continued, “you were good at music and writing, but even since our marriage, you’ve learned so much about other kinds of art. Like painting.”
Anna looked around her living room, at all the signs that were hung on the wall, even though none of them went together. The pictures next to the Bible verse handwritten in chalk. The wood cross given to her by her dad, and the purple signs she requested of her aunt Pam before she even got married. The picture on canvas created by both her husband and daughter next to the fish. The other many Bible verses in different colors and different fonts on different signs. I’m getting totally distracted, she chided herself. Then, a comment from her dear sister floated through her head: “Anna, your house is like a novel, and it makes me tired.”
Sternly shaking her head, Anna thought about her move this summer and the better decorating she’d probably do. But, she thought with a shrug, I do like my signs.
THIS NARRATIVE IS NOT DESCRIPTIVE! Anna looked helplessly at her husband, who is busy listing out the items in the house they’d be moving. Uff da, thought the Minnesota-native. My next attempt. Will hopefully tell you about a little more than what’s going on in my head!?
Until next time,