Out of the Ravine
Ask any one of my three children what I’m good at.
“She’s a tremendous foodie! Loves to cook! Talks to her sourdough starter as though it were a fourth child. Collects cookbooks like most women stockpile shoes. Oh, and she’s obsessed with clean floors. (God forbid, you drop your toast and it’s covered in hair upon retrieval.) She’s a laundry wizard, always one load ahead! Mom’s good at reading books to us and snuggling us.”
But would my children ever gaze upon me and proclaim that I’m a true and masterful creative?
The days of smudging charcoal to capture the essence of someone’s face—they’re an obscure memory. This girl spent hours hunched over the cramped practice room Steinway, perfecting that Rachmaninoff passage, Beethoven’s 32 Variations in C Minor, Ravel’s famed Jeux d'eau. Where has that girl gone? The hand bound book she made, for the boy she adored, on the occasion of their one-year anniversary—what absolute joy to conceive, constitute, construct and confer. I know that girl and, sadly, her creativity has lingered dormant for a prolonged season.
After my dad’s plane crash, it was all I could do to sit at the piano and not flood the keys with tears. I was newly engaged, ridiculously in love and anticipating a sunny future—all while tending to a cyclical and gaping wound of loss. Fourteen years have passed and I’ve muscled and white-knuckled my way into the present day, with a few dirty diapers and dish piles along the way. Despite my deep desire to pursue creativity in whatever season I’m in, I often end up surviving rather than thriving…numbing rather than succumbing to an artistic whim.
As I ponder 1 Kings 7:2-6, where the Lord shares some special instructions for Elijah, I’m struck at how I can relate.
“Leave here, turn eastward and hide in the Kerith Ravine, east of the Jordan. You will drink from the brook, and I have directed the ravens to supply you with food there. So, he did what the Lord had told him.”
The Hebrew name cherith means to “cut off” or “cut down,” to carve or engrave. It signifies a ditch, a separation, or a winter stream. Elijah needed to be cut off to prepare for his confrontation with King Ahab. God told Elijah to hide in the ravine in order to be provided with water during a drought.
Haven’t we all walked through a dry spell, where no amount of gentle nudging can produce anything pleasing? Yet, we do not grow thirsty in the winter stream. Has God instructed you to sit in isolation in order to get ready for the next thing? Are you awaiting a pivot? Whether it’s a move, a new job, healing in a relationship, or a creative awakening, God will lead unerringly. Many times, it’s in the ravine that we find the ingenuity and innovation for carrying on.
How are you carrying on through art and life?
Share in the comments and let us know.
KRISTINE AMUNDRUD is passionate about people and friendships that go below the surface. She loves sharing stories in sacred spaces and counts it a privilege when God orchestrates it just right. She’s a homeschool mom by day, a piano teacher by afternoon, and a lolly-gagging dreamer by night. She holds a Bachelor of Music in Piano Performance from the University of Alberta, as well as a Bachelor of Education. Kristine married her best friend, and together they have two daughters and a son. Connect with her on Instagram @kamundrud and at soulsigh.com.