Just Play

My daughter sits across from me, working a new crochet hook and giant, fluffy aqua yarn into what she hopes will be a blanket. She has just learned this art, and she knows only a trio of stitches. Nevertheless she experiments, creating new stitches and figuring out different ways to get that yarn across the rows in a blanket that will be all her own style.

She is playing. Yes, she is also creating something practical (we think), but at heart she is playing as she imagines her way more than she demands perfection.

I’ve become convinced we need more of this thing called play in our lives.

Our culture demands that every activity have a purpose, each minute we spend add to our résumé of achievements. For a generation of moms who have been measured by their GPAs, job statuses, and parenting philosophies, play seems foreign to our worldview.

We don’t see how making up crochet stitches is going to add to our bottom line. We can’t fathom how coloring a picture of paisley flowers will make us better job applicants. Maybe joining the kids with Legos on the floor will give us parenting points, but isn’t that just one more thing we have to do?

As winter churns onward and Christmas is barely visible in the rearview mirror, February doldrums beset us. When better do we need a reminder to stop striving and start finding our creative play button?

If mountains, rocks, and trees can sing and clap for joy, why shouldn’t we? God definitely has fun. Look at a platypus or a camel, and then try to tell me God was not having a good time when he did that. If we are made in his image, it follows that creativity and joyful abandon– play–should be part of our wiring.

Play brings rest to the soul. How can you find some play time this month? Here are a few suggestions:

Rediscover a lost love. What used to bring you joy? A sport? A craft? Music, reading, or collecting something that has no practical use whatsoever? Maybe now is the time to revisit that. I gave up cross-stitching when the kids came along, because of time—that and the fact that a two-year-old can get entangled in embroidery thread faster than the average cat. But now? Maybe it’s just the peace dividend I need to revisit on a winter’s eve.

Do something small. You probably won’t be reading the complete works of Shakespeare with your limited free time. But a couple of poems between kitchen clean-ups? Ten minutes of playing the piano or coloring a picture? A fifteen-minute walk where you also grab the camera and frame up some artistic shots? No need to paint The Last Supper. Crocheting a hot pad will do.

Find unexpected play. I put a bird feeder pole next to my work window. The antics of nuthatches and downy woodpeckers make me smile during my hours at the computer. God’s creative play when he made such creatures is fueling mine. Look around for those God-created moments in your day and celebrate them.

Release perfection and achievement. Every Christmas we make a gingerbread house. It started with one of those easy kits someone gave us, but it’s morphed into giant extravaganzas that take up an entire table. We don’t care that the candy is not in straight rows, that the frosting is haphazard, or that more ends up on the floor and faces than on the house. We just go for it in the zaniest way possible. This year we made Wrigley Field. Of course. It would never win any awards, but play isn’t supposed to.

While the winds make us believe winter will never end, remember:

[Tweet “We have the power to turn the dreariness into whimsy if we just take the time to play.”]

Jill Richardson is a writer, speaker, pastor, mom of three, and author of five books. She likes to travel, grow flowers, read Tolkien, and research her next project. She believes in Jesus, grace, restoration, kindness, justice, and dark chocolate. Her passion is partnering with the next generation of faith. Jill blogs at jillmrichardson.com.

Photograph © Lechon Kirb, used with permission