I'm sorry I haven't written lately. It's been a little busy; October is always busy in Arizona as we come out and begin living again after the heat of Summer. We had a lot happening, not the least of which was a visit from the NAFRA leadership for their annual convocation. (see http://www.nafra-sfo.org/ ) We were helping out with little things like taking tickets and serving cake, but they swept us into their events and experiences as though we were important people. I didn't know how to handle myself so I kept smiling and kept shaking hands. I think it helped since many of them were visiting Arizona for the first time and wondered "how we arranged such nice weather..." The truth is, we're having a drought so the Autumn rains have kept far away.
     But the thing I wanted to talk about tonight is a book that came into my hands at the school where I work. It is called "Willow" and it was written by Denise Brennan-Nelson and Rosmarie Brennan and it was illustrated by Cyd Moore. It is a story about an Art teacher who learns to let go of her art, a decision that liberates the creative power locked inside of her. It's a children's story, but I think as parables go, it's a good story for all of us.
    As an artist and a writer I know what it feels like to have inspiration locked up inside and no way to let it out. The answer seems simple enough. You just have to trust the art, trust it to create it's own path, trust it to live it's own life and not consume you.
    But artists know this inner force as a fire with such power that... well, it's scary. It takes us over and commands us to work all night in the grip of the creative impulse. John Paul II said it is "a sharing in the Eighth commandment; a commission to 'tell the truth' about the world and it's inherent beauty." Not a bad task for a Franciscan, I would say.
    But all my life I've been hiding the light, allowing only glimmers to escape before clamping down the lid and forcing myself to look and behave like everyone else. In "Willow", the art teacher, Miss Hawthorn, was cold and alienated from her world by the wall she built between herself and her art. There is risk to the vocation of truth-telling.

     And tonight, it reminds me of the Christian call to trust Jesus beyond all our wants and all our fears. That kind of courage, that kind of trust is what an artist must grasp to be fulfilled in their work. It's the kind of courage anyone must have to find and follow their vocation, for every work is sourced and completed in Christ. Those who wish to walk with him must take up the life He has given them, and live it to the fullest. In the living of that life, we are brought to completion.
     So here's to Miss Hawthorn who was brave enough to let go, and to little Willow who was alive enough to show her the truth. May we all have such angels when we need them.