I close my eyes and breathe the fall air coming into my window. I am thankful for two lives: one that is two days over 25 years, one that was one seat belt away from last breath. I can't decide how much thought to give to possibility that last night was so close to my worst nightmare. I am grateful for the sturdiness of a Honda CRV and to the faithfulness of our God. But in an exasperated moment I can't help but say, He can't ever get a break.
I watch him moving, walking. No one will know he has slept two hours last night (or this morning, rather), or that he has been so, so tired. He buttons up his shirt, he ties a firm knot in his tie. He is sharp, he is gentle, he is strong. I watch his steps, grateful that he is alive. I love his resilience - that in our past five years together, I have seen him pick himself up over and over again. From failure, from the unexpected, from trauma, from relationships. Does he know not everyone can do this? He sighs, closes his eyes, breathes, gathers up whatever it is sitting around inside of him, and moves forward. Even on two hours of sleep.
We were going to celebrate my birthday. A little nagging thought imagines how horrible that second day of 25 could have been if things went different last night. Today we'll celebrate life, two lives, two lives intertwined and woven and grateful. These past two weeks, I've loved you as I've stayed up later than my bedtime to keep you company while you work through assignments. Last night, I stayed up to stay close to you on a couch in your friend's home. You poked me as I made references to the movie we were supposed to watch together today, irreverently humorous in a night that went horribly wrong. I told you to count prime numbers to get your mind to slow down.
You'll make it - you always do, it seems. You'll replay scenes and memories, I'll piece together imagination from your descriptions. We'll be okay.
I thought I saw a light shine.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Choosing
For the first time in years I switch my birthday on facebook to public after briefly recognizing that my resistance the past few years is rooted in a bit of pride. I don't want to be like everyone else who gets hundreds of HBD's on their birthday and I told myself that I don't need everyone's well-wishes, just the genuine ones from those who will remember my one day out of 365.
But today, I choose to receive. I choose to smile knowing that I love others and others love me and that brief wishes on a birthday can be meaningful. I receive the memories and laughs and gratitude of those in my life. I like to take the time to appreciate others, and I can't pretend that I'm too good for it myself. I'll choose this little act of letting people know it's my date of birth to remind myself that I can't walk a one-way road and pretend I don't need others. I choose to accept: accept love, accept friendship, and accept that I need both. I accept that I need friends to thrive, and that words are gifts that have life. And I choose to recognize that social media can have depth, if we let it. I let meaning and authenticity onto my wall and I let go of the cynicism that nothing on facebook matters.
And even as I sit in Panera starting my 26th year of life with just my writing, a chocolate croissant, and a cup of coffee, I ask for wisdom to balance the secrecy and the solitude of intimacy with my Father on one hand, while recognizing and receiving the blessing of community and relationship on the other.
But today, I choose to receive. I choose to smile knowing that I love others and others love me and that brief wishes on a birthday can be meaningful. I receive the memories and laughs and gratitude of those in my life. I like to take the time to appreciate others, and I can't pretend that I'm too good for it myself. I'll choose this little act of letting people know it's my date of birth to remind myself that I can't walk a one-way road and pretend I don't need others. I choose to accept: accept love, accept friendship, and accept that I need both. I accept that I need friends to thrive, and that words are gifts that have life. And I choose to recognize that social media can have depth, if we let it. I let meaning and authenticity onto my wall and I let go of the cynicism that nothing on facebook matters.
And even as I sit in Panera starting my 26th year of life with just my writing, a chocolate croissant, and a cup of coffee, I ask for wisdom to balance the secrecy and the solitude of intimacy with my Father on one hand, while recognizing and receiving the blessing of community and relationship on the other.
Monday, November 18, 2013
albums of love
This past year my photos have hit a few new groups of friends who don't quite know the energy or aren't used to the quantity, quality, and captions of my facebook albums. Their delight and surprise make me happy, and while some may never know it, these pictures are how I love:
Pulling myself away from the crowd to snap a shot of it
Weaving my way into the groups to capture the intimacy of interactions
Missing parts of the scene and show because I'm watching it through my lens
Swapping lens, swiveling my external flash, climbing atop chairs
Curating photos, deleting the bad and okay to leave the best
Cropping the ones shot too wide
And adding an extra hour or two to caption, tag, and order
And as the the red flags show up and people laugh and enjoy, I know that the hours put into this craft, hobby, and creation is worth it. Because treating them to documented memories, helping them to remember times well spent and laughter made together is my gift to my friends and colleagues around me. Even if to some it's just another thing on the newsfeed, just another quick album to browse through, the short-term happiness is worth it. This is how I love, this is what I offer: I am a friend who loves relationships and a photographer with enough talent and skill, and these two intersect with a bit of energy and time to give you just another album of photos.
Pulling myself away from the crowd to snap a shot of it
Weaving my way into the groups to capture the intimacy of interactions
Missing parts of the scene and show because I'm watching it through my lens
Swapping lens, swiveling my external flash, climbing atop chairs
Curating photos, deleting the bad and okay to leave the best
Cropping the ones shot too wide
And adding an extra hour or two to caption, tag, and order
And as the the red flags show up and people laugh and enjoy, I know that the hours put into this craft, hobby, and creation is worth it. Because treating them to documented memories, helping them to remember times well spent and laughter made together is my gift to my friends and colleagues around me. Even if to some it's just another thing on the newsfeed, just another quick album to browse through, the short-term happiness is worth it. This is how I love, this is what I offer: I am a friend who loves relationships and a photographer with enough talent and skill, and these two intersect with a bit of energy and time to give you just another album of photos.
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