“Just please be quiet,” my mom says as she hands my brother and me pens. We pull out the handouts from our Sunday school class and unfold them and look for the blank spaces to draw. With those pens, we begin to draw. For some reason, we are drawn into world-building. We build a world for diggers and cave divers. Carefully they dig further and further into the tough clay earth. But from the flow of our pens, the earth is soft as dust, and the diggers work eagerly towards treasure softly buried hidden in deep caverns. They will always find their treasure; there is no doubt about it.
As we grow older, my brother continues to world build, where we both started with pens and crayons in Sunday school. Quickly he moves towards pencils, markers, graphite, acrylic, clay, wax, and watercolor, mixed mediums to find the results he needs—finally, oil on canvas—large, dark, intense, and incredibly beautiful. I stare at those beautiful paintings and sometimes wonder how it is that he is still down there. Digging for the treasure he will find—of that, there is no doubt. While he conjures with paint, I sit here and conjure with words.