Creation

In the (now infamous) year 2020, my family was living in a narrow four-story house in Billerica, Massachusetts. It was a three-bedroom, three-bathroom home with a large unfinished basement and attic, a living room and two strange enclosed rooms on either side of the front door. It was, honestly, more space than we needed, but after four years of getting through grad school in a 900-square-foot apartment, we were excited to be able to move the toys out of the living room and split our three kids into different rooms.

One of the random rooms on the main floor became the toy room, and the other we called the “art room.” We kept our art supplies there in a cabinet, as well as our piano and a desk for doing homework or making craft projects. This room was usually a disaster, with in-progress works left out on the table for weeks, crayons and markers all over the floor, and an ever-present dusting of glitter. Not to mention the bin of various materials my children “saved” from the recycling bin to repurpose.

When the world shut down in March, the art room became very special to me. I cleared off the desk and set up my sewing machine, and began to spend whatever spare time I could find during the day assembling homemade masks, which were then donated to others via a plastic bag hung on the doorknob for a contactless pick-up.

Having the sewing machine handy also made it more accessible to my children, who began making their own stuffed animals and patchwork blankets out of my scraps.

On Sunday, I would carefully move the sewing machine to the floor and clear the desk of fabric scraps and bits of thread. Then I would wash it, move it to the center of the room, and lay out a makeshift white tablecloth (a long piece of white cotton from a donated bolt). Thus prepared, the “art room” became our chapel for the day.

For members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the sacrament is an important ordinance we participate in weekly.. It is performed by someone who holds the Priesthood, or the authority to act in Christ’s name on the Earth.

Unless there are extenuating circumstances, you must be present at church in order to partake of the sacrament– it’s not typically performed within the home. However, when we were forced to cancel our worship meetings and activities, the leaders of the Church encouraged families who had an ordained Priesthood holder present to bless and partake of the sacrament at home. This experience really changed my relationship with the Sacrament.

For example, I learned that breaking the bread into small pieces is not just done for convenience, but is performed while the Sacrament hymn is sung, representing the broken body of Christ and becoming part of the ordinance itself.

I also learned that sacred moments are what you make them. Our sacrament table wasn’t elaborate or ornate, and we drank our water from our mismatched collection of chipped mugs. The children were often loud and restless, making it difficult for me to play piano while my husband prepared the bread. I much prefer in-person church and hope we never have to go back to home church, and yet, I still felt the spirit of the Lord, impressing on me that despite the chaos, this was a holy place.

I think using the art room had something to do with that. This was the room that, during the week, we used to create–and what could be more Christ-like than that? John 1:3 tells us that “all things were made by Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made.” So to practice the divine skill of creation is, I believe, an effort to become more like Him, especially when that act enhances the lives of others.

As a mother of five, I have literally spent years of my life in partnership with the Lord creating children through pregnancy. The act of physically sacrificing my body to bring life into the world usually isn’t very comfortable, but it always leaves me in awe of the Lord’s miracles and blessings.

On Earth, my (then) four children challenged me each day, and we spent much of our time building with Legos and drawing and painting and playing piano…practicing the act of creation as a way of coming closer to Him. Molding these little human creations into generous, kind, loving, hard-working people was difficult, but when I stayed close to the Lord, I became more patient.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, “The more you trust and rely upon the Spirit, the greater your capacity to create. That is your opportunity in this life and your destiny in the life to come.”

The room that during the week represented creation, on the Sabbath represented the ultimate act of the Savior: his death and resurrection. Unlike art projects, which often do not last forever, the Lord’s ultimate creation, our bodies, are for keeps.

“This is My work and My glory,” declared the Lord, “to bring to pass the immortality of men.” (Moses 1:39).

We no longer take the sacrament at home, and we don’t have a dedicated art room anymore. But the work of creation is still going strong. I am grateful for that special time and room and for my Savior, my creator, my Redeemer, Jesus Christ.

Rachel Kenley Fry is busy raising five children to (hopefully) become productive members of society someday, creating short stories, and singing in a six-part a capella group. She is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.