Small Courage

Artist Jen Norton in her studio

We kind of assume that the thing which requires our courage is always out in front of us somewhere. It’s big and obvious and clearly it must be attacked. I think particularly in American culture, courage has become synonymous with “fight” or “defend”.

But what about the less-obvious acts of courage needed to transform our hearts? I like to call these acts of “small courage”. One at a time they can go unnoticed, but collectively over a lifetime they can change a heart and unchain one’s spirit. We may not be called to employ large acts of courage like some of the saints or heroes we know. But if a fight in the big arena is what we are called to do, we will only be capable if we have developed the practice of performing small courage along the way. “God doesn’t call the qualified; he qualifies the called,” as the saying goes.

Courage is defined by Merriam-Webster as “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere and withstand danger, fear or difficulty.” The definition leaves out the “why” or purpose that is the backbone of true courage. And like any bone, a backbone grows stronger with strain. Small courage provides that constant pressure.

Our Father by Jen Norton

For me, making art is one of the ways I practice small courage. In trusting new beginnings, letting go of control, and surrendering to something greater, I learn to hear the Good Shepherd’s voice above the noise. The vulnerability involved in creating truthful work and then showing it to the world entwines art and fear. One must daily call upon courage to battle against one’s own ego to sustain a creative life.

I start with a basic idea of what I think I want to paint. I do a loose sketch, but I’m short on patience for planning and I usually jump in with a loaded paintbrush way before I should. I like to get rid of that big empty white surface right away! It works for me; the learning is in the journey. Exacting sketches and preliminary studies can feel too academic, so I have let some of that practice go and switched to acrylic paint, a medium that allows me to change my mind indefinitely.

Novato Sunrise by Jen Norton

I begin with an outline to get my big shapes in place, and I always intend to work out the overall design first. But inevitably I catch myself working too close and too small too soon. I become focused on the little things I can control, making them way more precious than they deserve. I lose sight of the larger picture. So I step back and feel disillusioned. My values aren’t defined; the composition falls short of what I imagined. Did I mention art is a metaphor for life?

Jenny Norton in her super-shy days.

Change is needed. Knowing that isn’t the courageous part…acting on it is. By now I might have put in several hours (or even days) of work. I might have really thought I was on the right track. But if I take stock and know it’s not making my heart sing, I have to make changes. I have to be OK with the loss of time and the used paint and trust the chaos. For a super-shy girl who grew up thinking she needed to be perfect to be loved, this is a real battle. Sometimes the changes are monumental and take me in a whole other direction. And even if they’re small, one change can have a ripple effect on everything around it. Oh, I so want to resist all this… isn’t there a floor that needs to be vacuumed?

What I have learned from going through this process over and over is that I need to override my resistance and my desire to say my work is “good enough” just because I put all the time in. It’s not valuable just because I did it. It has to speak to a truth beyond my own ego, or it’s sub-par. I understand what Jesus meant when He said to Mary Magdalene at the Resurrection, “Do not cling to me…” (John 20:17). If we hold on to something out of fear, we never realize the ascension. We need to find the courage to trust our training, inspiration, truth… and all with the wonder of a child.

“Whom are you looking for?” by Jen Norton

It seems that it’s only once I’ve put in the time and made some mistakes that I can really evaluate where I’m going. It’s only after I’ve battled my sense of self and let go that the truth emerges. (Did I mention the art and life connection?) I can get so angry and frustrated with the process…why do I want to make art anyway? I’ve wasted hours and paint is expensive!

Holy Family by Jen Norton

But through the process, I find that “purpose” again… the reason why I make art. Because as hard as it can be on some days, it brings me closer to God and His love for humanity. It gives me a way to tell the ancient story with a new voice. It offers me a chance to feel and share Joy. It has given me time and space to ponder the big questions. It is my God-given purpose, so I find the courage to do it.

Is making art the same as going to battle, fighting cancer, or facing death? No. But each painting takes me one small step closer to finding the big courage, should it be called for. Making art and sharing art with you are the steps of small courage I need to make me less afraid.

All images courtesy of Jen Norton.