Mtr Mary Trainor

"Everything you can imagine is real."—Pablo Picasso

Dear friend,

The artist knows that imagination is, among other things, the gift of entertaining possibilities. Ideas that the everyday world rules as not possible are, to the artist, a curiosity, an invitation, an irresistible challenge.

I am not an artist. Entertaining possibilities, new ideas, is a struggle for me. Whereas a blank canvas or a mound of clay are opportunities to the artist, for me they are frustrations, problems to be solved, not possibilities to explore.

This is a quality I seem to share with those disciples of old. I am sure I would struggle right alongside them in situations they encounter while with Jesus.

Take, for example, the story in today’s Office Gospel, Mark 8:1-10. After teaching the crowds for three days, Jesus realizes they need nourishment for the travel home. The conclusion? They must be fed.

But the disciples cannot see past the blank canvas, the mound of clay, set before them. Their response is an unimaginative no: “How can one feed these people with bread here in the desert?” 

When faced with a seeming impossible task, I can go to that same place: No creative solution is possible; it just can't be done. 

Years ago I was talking on the phone to my brother during a particularly difficult time. Our mother, who lived with me, was failing. And I was going through a very rough patch at work. My boss, also a friend, was going through her own rough patch. As a result, the work environment became a living hell.

After patiently listening to me complain about the boss-friend, my brother said a number of things, concluding with this: “You know you’re going to have to forgive her.”  

Talk about a mound of clay. I saw no creative solution there, no possibility of forgiveness. Nor could l dismiss his words. So I settled for a compromise: I would pray to “want to forgive.” And I prayed that prayer earnestly. In the face of daily workplace offenses I prayed to want to forgive.

Here’s what happened.

In time, angst was replaced by something softer, kinder. My viewpoint shifted. Seen from this new vantage point my boss-friend changed, too, and became my friend-boss again. I have no idea how that transformation occurred. It's only a slight exaggeration when I say it was no less a miracle than feeding 4,000 people with seven loaves and a few small fish.

These sorts of things can happen when we let God the artist loose in our lives. What might seem only fantasy to us can become reality with God's help.

I think it’s the only way that ”impossible” work like forgiveness can happen--by putting our shapeless mounds of clay into the Artist’s hands.

Mtr. Mary