Creative process

It was Saturday afternoon and Cyndi
was in Alpine, so I was on solo childcare-duty for the weekend.  I was doing some computer work in my library
at home, paying bills, and all that, when my seven-year-old nephew Kevin, being
a social creature, unlike me, decided to join me at the big table. He brought
his partially-built Lego Jedi Starfighter, as flown by the Lego version of
Anakin Skywalker. He was hoping I would help him finish the starship, which
means he was hoping to watch me put it together for him.

He was disappointed in the outcome
because I wouldn’t help him as much as he wanted me to. I helped him line up
his pieces when he was trying to build a mirror-image of the drawing in the
book – for example, when he was working on the left wing but the drawing was of
the right wing. Working with mirror images is a bit much to expect from a kid.

But I wouldn’t help him look for
missing pieces. I didn’t refuse to help; I was just really slow at actually
getting around to helping. I wasn’t trying to be mean to him, but finding the
correct Lego piece is a skill that can only be learned by repetition. Each time
he eventually found the piece anyway without my help.

Once Kevin got so mad at my stall
tactics he stomped out of the room, pouting and fuming. I let him go; he’d
earned the right to be angry at me and my lack of cooperation, but a few
moments later I heard him digging through his big box of extra Lego pieces in
his bedroom. Then, he came back into the library with the exact piece he had
been looking for.

“See, Uncle Berry,” he bragged, “here it is,” defiantly
showing me who was boss.

“Good for you, Kevin. I knew you
could find it. You are smarter than you think you are.”

He eventually finished his Jedi
Starfighter on his own and went on to save the galaxy. It was a proud
afternoon.

It wasn’t that I was too busy to
help him more, but I’ve been down this road before with my own kids. They
tended to be more interested in completing the final product, the airplane or
fire truck or starship shown on the box. They didn’t really care who did the
actual construction, they just wanted it to be done.

Me, I wasn’t that interested in the
final product at all. I wanted them to learn how to read the diagram and
understand the drawings, find their own pieces, and learn how to make
substitutes when they couldn’t find the exact piece they wanted. I was more
interested in the process than in the final product.

And to be honest, I am actually
happier after the box-cover model has been completed, and played with, and
finally dismantled. That’s when creativity and imagination replace
plan-following routine. That is when improvisation begins.

Maybe that’s why I like that sound
of young hands digging in a Lego box so much; it sounds like creativity to me.

Later, I thought more about the Lego
scenario, and I realized once again how our simple everyday life mirrors the
nature of God. I don’t believe God is as interested in the final result of our
life as much as he’s interested in the process of getting us there. He cares
more about our character than our destination.

I wondered if God ever holds back
from helping us because he wants us to try harder. Does he know there are some
things we can learn only through repetition? I wonder if it makes him happy
when we take the misfit pieces of our life and begin to improvise a new
solution. I wonder if he smiles when he hears us digging through our box of
spare parts.

For the past few months I have been
working around with my list of 100 Life Goals. In fact our Iron Men group that
meets on Thursday mornings has been working on this same project together.
Several of the guys sent their lists to me so I could make a group compilation,
and today at lunch I read those lists for the first time. I was stunned how
personal and honest and specific the goals were. Not all the goals were what
might be considered actual responsible adult behavior, some were wild moon
shots. Some were dug from the bottom corner of the Lego box in hopes they would
fit in with the rest of life. They were improvisational, hopeful, and creative.
I don’t know if any of us will be successful with our entire list. In fact, I
suspect none of us will achieve them all. But I think the process of dreaming
big makes God happy. I believe he likes to hear us digging through the box for
the cool pieces.

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/

To follow Berry on Twitter …
@berrysimpson