As a kid, I loved to craft. This is probably no surprise to anyone who knows me or has read any of my blog posts from the past few months. It all started when my mom would drive me over the hill, around the bend, and into the forest (re: woods) where my grandparents lived. My Granny had boxes of supplies I could always create with. She was stocked with all the good stuff. We’re talking pipe cleaners, sequins, every construction paper color of the rainbow, vibrant velvet balls, markers, paint ribbon, and squiggly-edged scissors. All the goods, otherwise known as Heaven. 

I would cut, paste, and color. Snip, stick, and paint. The possibilities of creation were endless. A birthday card? A fictional newspaper? A fashion magazine? Whatever I could think of, I was probably bringing it to life at my grandparents’ linoleum kitchen counter. I loved all the tools and opportunities and supplies. I knew it was business time when that hot glue gun came out. My sticky, glue-covered fingers said more than words ever could about how much I enjoyed myself. Again—a glimpse of Heaven.

In middle school, a new crafting hobby emerged after A Rose and Her Clothes (my 13-year-old fashion blog!) was born. I compiled and gifted handmade fashion books for my friends, delivered in three-ring binders. I honestly can’t remember what content even made it into those catalogs of 13-year-old fashion advice, but I remember the unparalleled joy of sliding another completed page into a fresh binder sleeve. The process lit me up, fueled me, brought me a bus load full of passion and purpose. 

Recently—fast forward 12 years from middle school—a friend whipped out a binder one of her friends had gifted her. The smile on her face could have lit up the night sky as she flipped through the pages, marveling at her dear friend’s creativity. She was glowing, so inspired by this one-of-a-kind creation and her friend’s thoughtfulness in putting it together. 

Upon seeing this binder, an immediate and impulsive thought came to mind. “I should get back to my mini-magazine-in-a-binder roots. That would be so fun!” I didn’t even have time to think about it; this reaction was instinctual.

Not even a split second after this new creative desire arrived, a tidal wave of doubt flooded in, crushing all the curiosity and wonder brewing within. 

“What are you going to make? What would the theme be? What about the messaging? Do you know enough about X, Y, and Z to spend precious hours making construction paper, not-so-straight-edged magazines about it? A magazine, really? Who do you think you are?”

The reasons not to spend time making something raw, uncertain, and imperfect with my hands stacked up quickly. This did not seem like a good idea to the logical, strategic, structured part of my brain.

But then again, does anything truly creative ever really make sense at the conception stage?

After seeing my friend’s binder, I learned an important lesson. Whether all of us would identify as “creatives” at face value, I believe that made in the image of God, we are all creative. And I believe there is creativity and childlike wonder within all of us that wants to create—not to make a profit or an Instagram post, but just because. Period. Full stop. Sometimes, that’s all the reason we need to create—just because. 

Just because it fills us in a way we can’t experience any other way.

Just because it lets us express ourselves and get things on paper or in the air that desperately need to come out. 

Just because it draws us nearer to our Heavenly Father, allowing us to understand and participate in the creation story He so artfully began. 

And sometimes, just because we don’t know what else to do. 

I’ve found that as I’ve grown up and gotten educated and become a full-fledged, tax-paying adult, I’ve developed a need for things to make sense. For my time to be spent productively, for my hours to get me closer to my goals, my to-do list, or my dreams. I want to know what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and where it will help lead me. 

This is not the way of creativity. This is also not the way of Jesus. This, I believe, is one reason He challenges us to keep a childlike faith and wonder. We don’t need to have all the answers, understand evvvverything, or have an outlined, detailed, 12-point, single-spaced ten-page plan for our lives or creative projects. Where is there room for awe, wonder, or marvel in that? Where is the joy of creativity and gifting “Fashion 101” binders for a friend in that?

I’m convinced, now more than ever, that we don’t need to explain away or have rational reasoning for anything we create. At work, sure. Yes. But in the corners of our spare time? In the vulnerable, intimate, expressive act of painting, collaging, writing poetry, sketching, pulling images and words together in a hand-cut, hand-pressed newspaper? We don’t have to explain that to anyone. In fact, I’d urge us not to. 

Instead, I’d encourage us to create. To write. To do that one project in the back of our mind that we’re thrilled about and also slightly scared of. Whether our job title is “Full-time Artist” or not, I believe this outlet of bringing something into the world and putting a bit of ourselves into it is the process that keeps us healthy and whole. I’ve found in my own life that when I’m not consistently allowing myself to create freely, my physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health suffers. My work suffers. Basically, I don’t thrive. 

If you’re looking for a magic pill to feel better in some area of your life, might I suggest a blank piece of paper and some crayons? Or an old magazine, a pair of scissors, and a glue stick? There doesn’t have to be a strategy, a plan, or a marketing campaign ready to promote this project. It can be just for you, just for this moment. The world doesn’t have to know. There doesn’t have to be a reason. You can create whatever your soul desires, whatever sounds fun. 

And the best part? You can do it just because.