My daughter and I were on a walk today when she gasped and pointed with a breathless, “Look at that one!” Her twelve-year-old voice was untinged with irony or sarcasm. Her eyebrows and eyes were without arch or roll. She was thoroughly, unabashedly impressed by a leaf. Now, granted, this was a rather unusual leaf as its fall color would be classified in the feline world as “calico,” but what struck me was her response. For her to notice something in the natural world is not unusual, for her to want to show me something that caught her attentive eye is a thrice-daily event, but what impressed the moment on my soul like a heel on soft sand was delight. My daughter was delighted by the coloration of a leaf. Although I consider this particular child of mine to be seminally perceptive and intelligent, I am not sure she was the source of the moment. She was a participant in the stunning tapestry of fall flung over the mountains right now. She did not orchestrate the growth of the leaf, define what it means to be beautiful, or arrange it, artfully, on the pavement. She simply paid attention to what was in front of her.

Beauty is delightful—it beckons us to participate.

This Advent, the Missional Wisdom Foundation will be attending to what it means to be a maker of things. Whether you lay watercolors on in translucent subtlety or build meals that affirm the goodness of the interplay of sunlight and pollen, whether you conscript words into service to illuminate the mysteries of the Divine or swirl toddler fingers in finger paint, whether you cajole flowers out of suburban lawns or join your voice to the eternal harmonies of the universe, you are a maker.

This Advent, we will use the book, The Lemon Tree, by Sandy Tolan, the work of William Blake, the Hymn of the Universe by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, and the Psalms to explore the work of making in today’s world. Why do we create? Why is the world beautiful? What are we to make of art and beauty in the face of real, present, and overwhelming suffering? What, if anything, does my artistic practice do in world more than slightly askew.

If you are a maker of things small or large, private or wildly popular, rigorously practiced or first-try-fresh, join us as we wrestle with how persistent growth, radical listening, and a soulful universe contribute to creating communities of deep grace.