Some days I’m more creative than others, meaning the wind of creativity blows stronger, the impulse to abandon visible productivity drives me crazy if I don’t listen. I feel panicked, like an opportunity is passing me by, and I cry out, “Don’t leave me, please!” I can’t tell if this is a whim that all people experience, the flesh that yearns for what it wants, rather than what it needs. Or, if this a Spirit that burns within me, calling me to come, like a Shepherd that leads its sheep home. To get lost in creativity can feel like a peace I can’t describe, like a well of the purest water that never runs dry. This kind of getting lost never causes me to panic. It relieves me of the demands of visible productivity and calms my proud, anxious spirit from thinking I was meant to do it all—all in one day.

In the Christian faith, the story of creation takes places in seven days. Each day, God creates and separates one thing from another, bringing forth all that was and is by the words of His mouth. Each day ends with this description, “And God saw that it was good. Evening came and then morning: the first day …And God saw that it was good. Evening came and then morning: the second day …God saw all that he had made, and it was very good indeed. Evening came and then morning: the sixth day.”

If the Creator who is all powerful, all knowing, one who is without limits, yet put limits on himself each day of creation, why is it I think I am without limits in my visible productivity? I see the work that needs to be done—dishes, laundry, planning, preparing for the next meal, then next activity, the next project—and it seems without limits. The visible work seems to look at me as if it is limitless and has power over me. I see this work and I often bow to it, because it’s the work that’s seen. My children, my husband, the piano tuner, and the plumber. They all see whether or not this work is done, yet visibly productive work is never done. There’s always more.

How can it be that this visible work can have so much power? Who gave it this power and influence? Who instructed it to instruct me. Who first looked at this work and said, “This is where we place our value, where we look to for affirmation.” That person was a fool, and that person is me.

The real creatives, the ones who make a living from their creativity and write books about it say that in the end, creative work is still work. At some point, creative work becomes a task that must be mastered. Still, there are some who look at the work of folding laundry, preparing meals, keeping a home and managing the family schedule as the most creative work. This is the work I am immersed in. I wish I still saw it as creative. Instead, this creativity has become a task that must be mastered. This creative work is visible, but I am beginning to care less for this work and more for what is unseen.

The unseen work takes place in the morning before anyone else wakes up. I open the book of the Christian faith, desperate for any sense of direction. I want intimacy. I want fellowship. No one else will do but the One who created me for this work. I speak His written words. Then I speak my own. His words guide me. I don’t know what I want or even what I need. So I ask for the for the limitless One to help me see my limits and to choose the freedom that He created me for. This is the wind that blows. This is the call of the Shepherd. This is the calm that frees me to create in the unseen work.