Yesterday, after reading Tracie's blog about quaries, I envisioned scuba diving in a water-filled, scum-edged quary. That was just the beginning. The water contained either toxic substances or a dead body. Now that I've thought more about it, the toxic substance spawned another creature a' la Black Lagoon, and he probably is responsible for that dead body...
As a child, I had an imaginary playmate. Mom couldn't punish me by sending me to my room; I'd go there, crawl up on my bed, and get lost in play. Even without toys, I'd burrow under a blanket and be a bunny, a gopher, or make a tent and be camping.
My imagination never waned. It came in handy when my kids were little. One has ADD. The other has ADD ADHD. Booking up ways to keep them busy required constant application of the imagination God gave me. It also comes in handy since I'm a writer.
My world doesn't spin at a steady rate like the science books said. A syncopated beat makes it bop, hop, skip, and whirl. Often, it shakes with mirth. And I'm glad. Surprises crop up all the time.
While I scolded Dottie today for barking, Rocky raced up and sat quivering with expectation of a treat. Kelly's dog didn't want to be left out. Whenever he's excited, Midas bends into a horseshoe shape and defies all the laws of anatomy by still walking with his tail smacking his face. Like the Slinky Dog on Toy Story, he arrived--with a wadded up paper towel in his mouth that made him look like he had dentures and a fat cigar hanging from his mouth. The Three Stooges live... ad they each got a dog biscuit...
My paternal grandmother was born in 1905. She grew up as a minister's daughter, then married a minister. She lived a very sheltered,very proper Victorian life. She never drove, never danced, and would look around to be sure a man wasn't present before she'd whisper something scandalous... like asking my mother to take her shopping for new "foundation garments." It didn't take much to shock her. Wide-eyed, she'd press her hand to her bosom and declare, "Never in my wildest imagings!"
So I've been thinking.... do we all have imagination, but channel it in different ways? Do some of us create fictional worlds for amusement, while others concentrate on the dreadful what-ifs so their lives are consumed by worry? Is it a matter of taking the creative bent and use it to sing, or garden, create new recipes or restore cars? Somehow, I want to believe everyone has that spark within them.
We are all created in the image of God, and judging from the world and creatures around me, He's got an utterly Divine imagination.
I'm going to make up a huge batch of Tammy's gluten-free fudge mug cake and celebrate my Creator who must sometimes look at His children, watch the wacky ways we approach him, and chuckle. Jesus wept. Don't you think God laughs?
That thought brings me joy.