The Sketchbook

This past weekend, I went to a conference.
I have gone to this conference every year since it began.
This annual conference celebrates creativity, collaboration, and community.
What a joy to be among others who love beauty and manifest it in various ways.

Artists, writers, and musicians come together to listen to wonderful speakers.
Breakout sessions, quiet places to relax and reflect, and sweet fellowship nourish the soul.
It is something I look forward to every year.
I always return home with a full heart.

I saw him sitting on the front row.
Sometimes he was on the right; sometimes he was on the left.
I could see him writing, or so I thought.
He carried a book around with him wherever he went.

A friend of mine asked me if I saw any of his sketches.
Sketches? I asked.
Yes. He’s one of the speakers; he is an artist, she told me.
Now, I was intrigued.

I knew that he would be the first session after we all had our lunch.
I looked forward to hearing this tall man with the sketchbook under his arm.
I was anxious to hear about his art.
I wanted to know why he was constantly sketching.

I had no idea I would be so blessed.
He began his talk with a screen next to him.
On the screen, various art was shown as he explained the story behind each one.
Artists have their own style and I recognized this man’s uniqueness.

I have a book on my shelf that I love, which was illustrated in a similar style.
It couldn’t be him, I thought to myself.
Only to discover he was indeed the artist who did the illustrations for the book.
I did not know this artist, yet I did know him through a book he brought to life.

I had no idea what was in his sketchbook.
How I wanted to know.
I was taking notes as each speaker led their session.
However, I stopped and looked up from time to time, though this man never did.

Each year, the conference is on a Friday and Saturday.
Saturday night, after the final session, there is always a concert.
The man was sitting in the front row for the concert.
This time I had a clear view of his sketchbook.

I was mesmerized.
As each musician sang, he drew.
Whether playing, piano, guitar, or cello, he drew them.
He sketched so fast, it was almost unbelievable.

I cannot draw so I have a deep appreciation for anyone who can capture life in a picture.
I noticed he was left handed, just like me.
He moved his hand and I saw the details and the expressions as he captured a moment in time.
How many of these sketchbooks does he have? I wondered.

When the concert was over, I walked up to him, wanting to meet him and thank him.
In front of me was a young nine-year-old boy.
He was waiting patiently to talk to this man.
The artist towered over the boy in height but not in demeanor.

The young boy told him that he loves to draw.
The artist did the unthinkable: he showed his sketchbook to the young boy.
He went page by page and told him stories of some of the drawings.
Intricate. Detailed. Personal; I wondered if the boy knew what he was being shown.

Standing there, I was able to see the sketches since I was standing behind the boy.
Any of them could have been framed; they were that good.
It wasn’t about that; rather it was about chronicling the people with whom he interacts.
I saw the face of the young boy, and in his nine-year-old way, he did know what he was being shown.

Sing to him; sing praise to him; tell about all his wondrous works! (1 Chronicles 16:9)

We are to tell about the Lord.
We have so many ways we can tell about Him.
Art, music, stories are just a few.
This man tells of God’s wondrous works by drawing people made in God’s image.

The young boy listened attentively as the man told him to draw all the time.
Carry a sketchbook with you wherever you go. Pay attention.
There is is: PAY ATTENTION.
Notice everything. Record it. Draw it. Sing it. Write about it.

I think that young boy will do what the man said.
There is such fruit.
There is a story to tell and HE is at the center.
Even in the brokenness, there is such beauty for us to find and see.

Thank you, Steve Prince.