Lately, we've been thinking more about noticing God in our creative powers and being intentional, as a family, about making art. We've included some below. The late Mary Daly wrote, "It is the creative potential itself in human beings that is the image of God." Her observation about the gift of creative potential adds a new dimension to our Lenten practice of "just noticing." Actually, I think it adds three dimensions -- noticing the Creator's presence within us -- growing in awareness of ourselves in God's image -- and even recognizing our artwork (however rough-hewn) as reflections of God.

Of course, at seven years old, Mark Anthony isn't necessarily thinking of such things when he puts down a piece of paper and carefully outlines one super-hero after another (unless, perhaps, you count Sunday's drawing of "Thor" bowing down to Jesus on the cross...don't ask.) But time spent with pencil and crayon in hand clearly brings him joy. And the way he "loses himself" when he is creating gives us joy, as parents. I like to imagine that God, too, is pretty joyful at moments like these.

Mark Anthony also reminds us about letting go and turning off the adult perfectionist impulse. To surrender, to play, and enjoy the flow makes artmaking a kind of messy spiritual exercise. Freeing the creative impulse, giving it expression, and seeing where it leads is a wonder too often lost among the duties of family life. But in the act of picking up a paintbrush or a camera or ripping papers for collage, the dishes in the sink and the dirty laundry give way, at least for a while, to a sense of connectedness. To the self. To each other. To God. To others. To notice this sense of connectedness, when it happens, is not easy, but we "catch one" every now and again. And we want to help our son notice when he feels it, too.

He may not need all that much help from us, however. The other night, as we reviewed where we had noticed God in our day, he said, "Well, God is always with me." It sounded like something he may have learned in Sunday School, so I questioned him a bit further about what he meant. He answered in a tone that suggested he couldn't possibly explain -- or maybe that we couldn't possibly understand it. He said, "All I can tell you is that we're kind of in our own world together, God and me."

The great differences in our styles of art-making suggest that he might be onto something! --kbj

Mark Anthony Bozzuti-Jones, mixed media, 2010
This mandala was created for an art exhibit of parents and children exploring the journey of Jesus from the period of his ministry to the events of Holy Week. Mark Anthony chose the colors, objects, and placement, as we talked together about journeys that lead to new life.

Kathy Bozzuti-Jones, digital photography, 2010
There was not a single ramp or small hill that wasn't cordoned off in our neighborhood. It was pathetic and annoying as we dragged our sled from one potentially great spot to another. Finally, I stepped back from the bridge from which we were chased and saw it through a different lens...

Mark F. Bozzuti-Jones, collage, 2010
The figure of Christ and heavenly music stand in contrast to the figure of loss and nakedness in the story of The Fall (shown, here, on either side of the collage.) Mary emerges from the chaos and pain at center, keeping watch with Jesus: "In the morning/When I began to wake,/It happened again...That feeling/That as soon as I began to stir/ You put your lips to my forehead." (Hafiz)