It’s a helicopter. He drew the lines at the bottom first, then a slow circle to connect with the blade on top. He’s four, so it doesn’t look like much. But art starts out that way – small.
It’s a scrap of paper with scribbles on it. But those scribbles represent thoughts I had while driving, thoughts that may develop into the key points for an entire chapter in my next book. I jotted them down in the Target parking lot. It was raining, I think.
But it’s like I said before – art nearly always starts out small. Acorns turn into oak trees. Embryos become President. Love starts with hello. Life starts with a breath. All small, like Bethlehem.
Small things don’t always turn into big things, but big things always start out small. Lean into small, celebrate small. And in the words of a wise friend and counselor, don’t despise the days of small beginnings.