My choice. My choice. “It was a team effort. Everyone here has been amazing.” What do I want? What have I always wanted? What is the desire of my heart?
The world stops turning as the answer hits me.
I want to share my drawings with the world. I want to bring joy to them through the art I create. It’s what I was created to do.
With that confession comes another layer of understanding—now that I know, now that I’ve recognized that the desire isn’t me being selfish or lazy or any of the other things that my parents called it—now that I know it comes from the Being who created me, I have to act on it.
Paige nudges me. “Noah, are you okay?”
I blink and the world refocuses. “I have to—um—,” I have to do something. I have to step forward. Suddenly, in my mind, I can see the picture of a little yellow house with a small sign out front that says: Art Studio. “I have to go. Can you check the floats off without me?”
Paige’s face falls, and she seems to tuck into herself.
I can’t have that. I can’t stand to see her look so lost. I grab her by the arms and pull her to me, claiming her lips. She’s a little slow to respond since I’ve taken her by surprise. When she does, she breaks into a grin and I pull back to look at her. I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Paige, I have to go talk to someone about selling my art. I don’t know how it’s going to work out, but I feel it in my heart that this is the right thing, and I’m not going to wait one second more.”
Paige nods, her eyes never leaving my face. “Then you have to go. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Are you sure? I’ll stay. If you tell me to stay, I’ll stay.” My soul feels like I’m pulling it in two different directions. I know I have to go, but I can’t leave Paige here if she needs me.
She laughs lightly. “Go!” She grabs my face. “And then come tell me what happens.” She kisses me and I’m pretty sure I could fly to the little yellow house I saw in my mind. I know right where it is because it’s on the way to the snowshoeing trail.
“I’ll find you,” I promise. I kiss her once more, and then I’m off—chasing a future I don’t know anything about, and following a thought that popped into my head. I might be crazy. This might be a fool’s errand.
Or, it might be the new me, who is more like the me God intended me to be.
There’s only one way to find out.
Seventeen
NOAH
Igrip my portfolio tightly so the wind doesn’t have a chance to snatch it from me. It’s pushing against me at such a speed that I have to lean into it to make any progress.
I don’t have much of a portfolio. Professional portfolios are curated, evaluated, tweaked, and selected with care. I raced through my house, gathering images that felt right and not thinking too hard about what I picked. I’m going off of a feeling here. It’s a strange thing, trusting my instincts like this after doubting them for so many years.
And yet, it feels amazing.
A bluster of wind slams against me, and my foot slips on some ice. I manage to maintain my footing and continue forward. It feels like the wind is trying to stop me from getting to that little yellow house. I won’t let it. I have to go—now.
I don’t know that I’ve experienced anything quite like the feeling of trusting my gut. My mom says that I was able to hold a pencil correctly at eight-months old, which is pretty incredible. I wonder if this feels like that did on that day. I was too young to remember, of course. I just sense that something big is happening, and I’m moving toward it instead of running away from it like my parents tried to train me to do.
Art classes were only allowed because I needed the credits to graduate.
Art school was out of the question—impractical.
Drawing was a waste of time.
Painting was for children.
Focus on making money. Focus on achieving. Forget the part of you that wants to create—bury it or we’ll make you sorry.
I shove all those ghosts aside. I don’t want them anymore.
“Dear Jesus,” I say into the wind as it bites my cheeks. “Take them from me. I don’t want them in my soul or in my mind.” The wind continues to beat at me and I have to stop walking, though I pray all the harder. “You suffered enough for this, please.”
Suddenly, my skin begins to tingle. The feeling spreads to my very cells, and it’s as if I’m shedding scales. I can feel them dry out and fall off and out of me. I’m becoming lighter. I blink as my eyes seem to clear as they too shed scales. I blink as the winter light bounces blindingly off the snow. The wind stops.
In the calm, I can hear myself breathe, and I can feel God’s love.
