Billy is currently obsessed with ‘making’.
His desires are ambitious, and his pool of resources is the recycling bin and a roll of masking tape. I wholly admire his artistic, architectural aims, and feel lamentably lacking in my own offerings in terms of being able to help. He’s sweet in his compliments towards my stick men and wonky houses, but also quick to get frustrated that things are not turning out just as he would like.
It’s like watching my sister in a past life, who leans towards the crafty at every opportunity. Ironically, her son echoes my childhood habits of having a book to hand and grabbing every moment to get lost in the prose.
I love that Billy is thinking about what he wants to draw, paint and make before he’s even doing it. I love that his face lights up when he spots me throwing a promising looking box or lid in the recycling. I love that he sees the joy in that which I have already dismissed.
As I’ve been watching him conjure up constructions, whether it’s a home for his teddy or armour for himself, I’ve been reminded of our Creator.
God, who made everything from nothing.
God, who makes us alive with Christ when we were dead without him.
God, who points us to the new creation with his new song that shouts of our Saviour Jesus Christ.
God, who claims us as his ‘workmanship’ and has created us in Jesus to walk his good ways.
Billy is often frustrated with his efforts, challenged by the fact he is only four and yet a perfectionist when it comes to his projects. I love that our God looks at us, newly created as we are in Christ, and loves us and gives us all we need to live out who we are in him.
Boys, Books and the Home of the Brave 