Yesterday I went to the Balenciaga in Black exhibit at the Kimbell. Being that it was the last day of the show, there was a buzz of excitement in the line (which formed .2 seconds after the doors of the Kimbell were opened). I went by myself so there was plenty of time to take in the scene while waiting. There was a buzz of excitement — Will we get in? (Of course, the museum is open for another five hours.) How much longer will we have to wait? Not to shade my hometown or anything, but I was impressed with the turnout — you know, being that this is Fort Worth, TX after all, it’s not exactly a fashion capital of, well, anywhere. I loved seeing so many people eager to take in fashion as art and it reminded me a lot of Paris. People willing to wait in long lines to take in the creations of someone else, pushing in, craning their necks to get a better view at a sketch or garment or piece of jewelry, people standing back to take it all in — yes, very Paris and yes, I absolutely loved it.
Founded in Spain by Cristobal Balenciaga, the brand began in 1917 when its first boutique opened in Spain. The designer moved his headquarters 20 years later to Paris and rose to great stardom in the 50s and 60s.He was known for uncompromising standards of precision, modern shapes and silhouettes. He loved working with the color black and incorporating lace, both reminiscent of the soul of his homeland. Seeing such curiously designed, expertly made garments again, took me right back to Paris. I calculated the other day and it was eight years ago – EIGHT! – that I moved to the city of light. That boggles my mind. Nearly a decade. A DECADE.
After leaving the exhibit, I was riding the high of such an incredible display of beauty, juggling my memories of Paris, remembering how much I love the sheer creativity of clothes. What does that mean? I thought. Should I be doing something with these things that I love? How do I know if or when to take the next step and go in a different direction? The thoughts — they swirled and swirled and settled on this one thing: I don’t want to waste my time. I don’t want to waste my life. I don’t want to sit back and stay plodding along in the same things because “that’s how it’s always been” or because I’m afraid to take a step when it’s time. Will I see it? Will I be brave enough to follow? Or will I sit on my haunches and fold into the Monday through Friday blur of routine, coming out of it on Saturday mornings to find the other part of me peaking out and ready to play? Is this how it is for everyone?
The last thing I want is to get to the end of my life and know that I played it safe and easy. I only have this life — and no one knows how long that will be — to faithfully, bravely walk with Jesus. I want it to be sweet and beautiful, with a turned-up-all-the-way, windows-rolled-down, belly-laughs kind of full. I want to know Jesus and help others know Him too. I don’t want to exist in the background. I don’t want to look up and realized I wasted my days.
Whew, that’s a lot of feeling, right? Now you understand the state I was in when I walked into church a few hours later. I stood in the dark sanctuary as music played, reading the words on the screens above and knowing my heart wasn’t in them. So I stood there, eyes leaking, listening and praying. God, what do I do? Help. And what I heard is this: Who do you think made you that way? (Loving creativity of every form – fashion and words and people and music and big, country skies and huge, bustling cities?) Obvious answer: God did. Well, I finish what I start.
Ok, cue the head nodding and some more eye leaking. He finishes what He starts, friends. He finishes what He starts. Do I know what that means for my life? No, not at all — except that He’s not done. I’m not done. More and more I’m going around to the thought that while God does all the huge orchestrating, we’ve still got to take a step out too. He’s not going to push us into anything, but He wants to finish what He’s started with us. And so I’m encouraged that if I keep going with God close by my side, I’m going to find out, see, live what it means. And along the way, He will keep my heart full and open and burstingly alive if I let Him. There’s more to come — the best in fact.
After all, He has uncompromising precision with His creations too.
