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  • Sarah Raad

Scribbles

When I draw my scribbles for my Beloved, I show my love for Him with all of my unworthy feeble little heart…

The Angelus (Jean Francois Millet)

When my husband was about three years old, he fell in love with a Caterpillar excavator truck on a building site that his father was working on (may God rest his soul). My husband as that little boy was convinced that that truck was simply the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen and decided then and there that when he grew up he would marry that truck! Imagine his indignation when his mother told him that human beings could not marry excavator trucks! Many, many years later, my husband studied mechanical engineering and he currently works with hydraulic lift machines, so obviously something of that true love has lived on in his soul – though he never did in fact marry the truck!


About a year later, when my husband was about four years old, one of his neighbours – who was a university student in her late teens – used to babysit him when his mother was busy. By all accounts, she found my husband very cute – he was, after all, a very cute looking little kid. Her babysitting consisted primarily of her sitting around and listening to my little four year old husband babble on about various things that interested him. My husband remembers this babysitter very fondly, because she was his second true love – after the Caterpillar truck... In my husband’s little four-year-old eyes that teenage girl was simply the most beautiful and the most kind person he had ever met in his life. And so it was, that he decided then and there that he would marry her one day.


Obviously, being only four years old – and having already been ridiculed by his older siblings over the incident with the excavator – my husband did not reveal this secret love to anybody. But everybody knew about it anyway…


How did they know? You may ask… Because he spent all his time drawing pictures of the house he would build for his one true love to live in when he was old enough to marry her! That is how…


It is a funny family story and one that we all laugh quite a lot about. I often imagine that poor girl sitting there listening to that cute little boy and collecting his drawings and telling him they were marvellous while he was simply falling more madly in love with her every single day…


I have been reflecting on this little anecdote over the last few days each time I sit down to write. After all, when I publish an article in my Blog each day, I do a number of things to prepare... Firstly, I pray, talking to God and asking Him for the words that He would like to speak to the people who He would like to hear them. After all, any meagre ability I have to write serves nothing without the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Secondly, I read and reflect for there are things which I must first see in my mind’s eye before I can write them onto a page. Thirdly, I write to the very best of my ability – always self-critical and berating my own inability and never really happy with the outcome of anything I produce, but producing it anyway – because it is the best that I can offer. And finally, I search for artworks to accompany each post, and this can often be the most time consuming part of the whole enterprise as I try to find the pictures to match the words.


As I participate in these activities, it occurs to me that I am not very different from my husband at three or four years of age. After all, I am drawing my baby pictures – my scribbles – for my Beloved. And He – through His merciful wonderful infinite compassionate goodness – He takes them and holds them up and pats me on the head – though I am undeserving of even that – and tells me that He loves me and loves my work… He loves me, even as I perform the mundane tasks of my ordinary day...

And though my work is far inferior to the greats – it was the same with all the great artists and musicians who created anything for the Glory of God… They scribbled down what they could to the best of their ability – and God took it and shared it with the world as He saw fit.

And so, while I spend my days drawing my scribbles for my Beloved, I feel the warmth of His love. For He looks down at me and smiles – even though I have written only gibberish – because He knows that I love Him, with all the feebleness of my most unworthy little heart…


For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.

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