Every once in awhile, even a work-a-holic like me has to take a break. And then what do you suppose happens? Well, I start some project "for fun" that quickly turns into a job in and of itself.

This time, it's the Christmas cards. Now, please, friends and family, don't misunderstand what I'm saying. I really love Christmas cards. I love sending them, and I love to recieve them. I used to enjoy making every single person on my list a hand made one, when I had time for it, and looking for the lion and the lamb store bought ones when I didn't. Christmas cards are important and meaningful to me, probably more so than gifts, because they sustained us with news of family far away when we were up in Massachusetts and keep us in touch with far flung friends now that we are home.

The problem I have created for myself is not with the Christmas cards per se, but with the perfectionistic way I've approached the project.

This year, I got a good idea for an image that I tried to draw and a poem that went with it. And I really do feel that it was an image inspired through prayer, which is what lead me into the realm of perfectionism. A cute, dashed off sketch for the amusement of friends is one thing if I feel like it's just me making a joke. That's not going to work for an image that I feel might be a message the Lord wants me to share with others.

So, out came the oil pastels, the paint brushes, the Bible, the reference books, and just about anything else I could find to research, thereby putting off the actual placing of pencil to paper, but still creating an astonishing mess on the dining room table. Finally, I started working on the actual image, which was, of course, crap, and needed extensive revision. And so, it got it.

The poem part wasn't so bad. With that, I mainly had to resist the temptation to add to it, or mess around with it too much. Otherwise, the bulk of it just came out - plop- as a completed project that just needed pruning. Now the biggest challenge is not losing the scrap of paper the final copy is written on.

But I'm not much of a visual artist, for all that I enjoy trying to be. If work was measured in the amount of love, sweat and tears that went into it, I'd really be something. But, as a realist, I must accept my place among the thousands of middle class, middle aged women who can kinda-sorta draw and kinda-sorta have the means to purchase the materials to produce something that's kinda-sorta good enough for friends, family, and people with a kind and inclusive eye for "art".

Consequently, I was able to get a satisfactory image onto a card. And, I will say that the process was a lot easier than I think it would have been if NOT for some divine help. But that doesn't mean that I think that I can recreate it over and over, enough to send to everyone to whom I'd want to send a Christmas card.

So, that means I'll have to take it someplace, like Staples or Kwik Copy and see if they can reproduce the image for me. And THAT means - insert horror movie music here - showing it to someone.

Now, I'm not totally insane. I am aware that many, if not all people actually LOOK at their Christmas cards, and the whole point of this project is to share it with people. But this would be with people who like me, or at least already know me. Not a gum chewing wise cracking clerk in a copy center. Not in front of other people in my town who might be hanging around the counter. Not in the harsh, glaring light of Office Max, and, most importantly, not while I'm standing right there, clutching hours worth of work in my white knuckled hands.

Maybe I can pretend that I have a child and my kid did it. Maybe I can pretend that I have students and one of my students did it. Maybe I can just be quiet about it, be business-like and sharp, so that the clerk doesn't dare ask any questions about it.

Maybe I should just get my eyebrows waxed tonight and then go home.

But, I know that the evening will find me down at the copy center with my little work of art, such as it is, out in front God and everybody, trying to figure out a way to make Christmas cards out of it.

Why is it that, when I feel the Lord is calling me to do something it's never something like "Take a cruise!" or "go hang out in a bar!"? Well, okay, I have a pretty good idea why God is not calling me to go hang out in a bar...but still.

At least my eyebrows will look good.