Category Archives: God

I failed to make myself understood …

sometimes there are things in my head that are so purely what they are, that when I try to turn them into words, there are no words.  I didn’t coin this phrase, but I could have.  I looked it up to see to whom I should give credit, but believe it to be simply a well written line in a story.  I heard it on a tv show and though I wasn’t paying attention to the show as it was just for company, the words caught my attention.  I wished, immediately, that the person saying it was not an actor reading a script, but someone I knew.  Someone I knew intimately.  What understanding and pure synchronicity; what irony.

I think it would be coextensive to my emotional relationship to music and photography.  I don’t know anymore about music than how it makes me feel, but … I understand it.  And when the light shows her beauty, I feel nearly dizzy with the awesomeness of experiencing that single, perfect moment.

I feel that way most of the time.  My brain isn’t wired the same way as most of the people I know.  I can’t relate to them and they can’t relate to me.  I have thoughts, images, ideas … but I have no clue how to explain something that consumes me.  It isn’t lost on me how I am perceived and, for the most part, I don’t mind.  But … every now and then, I would like to know that someone understands me.  That without words, they just do.

I know.  We all want that, right?  I know.  There are things I know, thoughts I think, emotions I feel and I know they are real, at least to me.  I want someone else to know they are real; to know, not because they have knowledge of me, but because they feel it too.  A kinship in a world of near-isolation, without fragmentation; a world that is frightening to some people.  Frightening, at times, to me.

I am strong.  I am grateful for that, for I wasn’t always.  I am thankful for a mind of my own, for being different.  Being different certainly had it’s challenges … God has a way, though, of refining those whose seek Him into what they are meant to be.  While I still have a ways to go, I am leagues from where I began.  I guess it is enough to know, that whether anyone else in all the world understands me or not, my Heavenly Father, who created this arbitrary mind, does.

Romans 12:2 ~ And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.

The Wonder of Nature, Baby…

a force to be reckoned with.  As Hurricane Sandy makes her way up the East Coast, I find it both exhilarating and humbling to follow along.  I have many friends, some in flesh and blood, and others on Facebook and Twitter that I follow along with.  I wonder and think about their well-being and hope they will be well and safe, but at the same time, well, what can I say?  I want to be in the midst of the waves and snow and wind and carnage.  I want to wield my weatherproof Pentax and document the most awesome entity that is called Nature.  It is in my blood, my heart and my soul and even though I have mixed feelings about it, it doesn’t change the desire.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that I knew, beyond all rational thought, that I wanted to be a photographer, but it was somewhere in the middle of Mrs. Duncan’s third grade class.  I was caught taking photographs of the classroom and of the teacher, and she took my camera away.  As far as I know, if she is still living, she still has it.  Documentation of life as it happens became a pure obsession, one my parents (as those long ago sought after piano lessons) thought would pass.  But it didn’t pass.  Instead, it became an inferno as opposed to a campfire.

As years passed and photography consumed me, it had to take a back seat to the reality of having to work to feed my family.  A day job has, as far back as I can remember in my adult life, been the bane of my existence.  I got married and then had a child.  It wasn’t in my nature to quit once I had started something, so even though I loved my daughter and tried my best to make my husband happy, I could think of little else than leaving it all behind to pursue my dream.

But dreams are just that.  Imaginings and hopes that may or may not come to fruition.  The timing, at that particular moment, wasn’t right and I had responsibilities that kept me grounded.  I have no regrets (well, maybe some regrets where the philandering, cheating, no-good husband was concerned), but as far as my daughter, absolutely no regrets.  She was,  is and will continue to be a driving force in my life.  I had pretty much given up the hope of ever being a “real” photographer.

Fate and destiny has a way, though, of cutting through all the nonsense and paving a way where there didn’t seem to be one.  God knows the most intimate secrets and desires of my heart.  I began creating greeting cards a few years ago and have, to date, sold well over 20,000 cards.  God has blessed me well beyond what I believed I was capable of.  I have recently signed up to be a part of the Virginia Tourism team and excitement doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel.

Saying things out loud has always been a problem for me, but writing about or photographing and then writing about them is as natural as the breath in my lungs.  I look forward to every new adventure, each new sunrise and everything in between.   One has only to look at two sunrises or sunsets in succession to realize that they are completely different and have very different things to say.  Many times, I have (much to my family’s chagrin and disapproval) made myself a human lightning rod in the midst of thunderstorms, but take not into account my safety.  As I see it, if I die while photographing the wonder of nature, it has been a good death.

My blog posts come from my own brain and my own heart and my own point of view.  While there are times that I am certain I step on the toes and belief systems of the people I love and cherish, I cannot stem what comes from my soul.  To do so would be to deny that I, in any capacity, cease to exist and I have worked way to hard to overcome such ideals to let them hold me captive anymore.

Funnily enough, this post began as encouragement to those who are about to face an awesome display of nature and try to survive, but, has become more of an homage to those who follow along.  I am honored.  I am humbled.  I am inspired.  Life inspires me and that, in itself, is one of the most wonderful things I can imagine.

What can you do …

when you are trapped between that realm of normalcy and  insanity?   A tough question with no easy answer.  After  years of battling hours, days, even weeks of rapid cycling, I still have nothing to offer.  When those times come about, it seems that we, as beings, cease to belong to the world around us.  Everything is distorted and there is no orientation or order to any of it.  It comes down to the ability to realize what is happening and take it, as much as possible, in stride, until it passes.  I’m sure there are many people who have no idea what “rapid cycling” is and do not recognize it when people they know are going through it.  To the “normal” person, it looks like acting out or even attention seeking behavior.  Without knowledge of the situation, it would seem, and aptly so, that the person you know has become someone that you cannot comprehend.  I suppose, without actually meaning to be, this post is as much for the people who cannot fathom a place of uncertainty,  and downright dubiety than for those of us who know it more intimately than we would like.

Rapid cycling is a real and, most often, a permanent thing.  I am blessed to only have this occur once or twice a year; not so in my youth as it would happen two or three times per month and could, in the worst of times, last a week or more.   It is not uncommon for rapid cycling to last for months or even a year, but for the rest of us, the lucky ones,  rapid cycling comes with little or no trigger and can last as little as four hours.  The mood swings are awesome and completely, enigmatically  exhausting.  By the time it is over, I usually feel like I have been ran over by a very large, heavily loaded truck.  My brain is foggy, my senses slow and my reflexes, at least for a short time, are nonexistent.  In the grand scheme of things, it is not dissimilar to a seizure that lasts for hours.  Right and wrong seem to meld seamlessly and, from previous experience, it is most important to try to maintain control during one of these episodes.  After all these years, I have learned the warning signs and work very hard to isolate myself, as much as possible, until it has ran its course.

I know, without reservation, that there are others who feel the same way.  It makes me feel extremely vulnerable to speak of such things, but one person’s experience can often mean the difference between making or breaking to someone who feels the devastating, overwhelming range of emotions that define who we are at a given time.  Everyone experiences, at some point, sadness and joy, but this goes beyond that.  It is joy that is so inexplicable that jubilant takes a back seat; sadness that threatens our very being and, in the midst, every conceivable emotion in between.

I subscribe to the supposition that most adults have, at this point, learned to recognize the warning signs and may even be able to pinpoint the triggers; for that reason, this post is not directed to you.  It is directed to younger people who have thoughts and feelings that they cannot understand and find that, when trying to describe it, the people they love and trust do not understand.  It is important to know that it is likely that they will never truly understand.  They will accept you, humor you, try to get you, but unless they have experienced the phenomenon, they will not ever really and truly know what you speak of.  BUT … that doesn’t mean that there aren’t people who do.

Look inside yourself, learn to know the warning signs and be aware of the consequences of rash and often, irrational choices.  Even when you feel out of control, at the core, you are in control.  The decisions and choices you make, the roads you take, the destinations you choose will all define who you are in the end.  Just because you have moments of weakness doesn’t give you free reign to make poor choices.  It is of inimitable importance that one understands the state they are in and realizes that the choices they would normally make are much, much more complicated during this time.

If I can do nothing else, I encourage everyone to learn about rapid cycling so that when faced with it, whether personally or through someone they know and love, they will understand that it isn’t something that can fixed by advice.  It can’t be fixed by instruction or direction and it has no understanding of “buckling down”.

It just is.  And, as quickly as it comes, it will end.  Have faith that God will not let you destroy yourself and know, with certainty, that this too, shall pass.  I tell you this from experience so that  you, whoever you are, will know that you are not alone.

I believe in an Awesome God and know that the experiences and trials we face will help us help others.  If I didn’t believe in God and the unshakable Spirit of Christ, then I would be certain that I was cursed.  But I am not cursed, I am me and I will make the very best of it that I can.  Be encouraged and then encourage others.  Your life will be richer for it.

A Moment of Truth

Today was a learning experience for me; a day of growth, both emotionally and spiritually.  Everyone has them from time to time, often when they don’t really understand what just happened.  Before a couple of weeks ago, I’m not sure I would have understood what happened.   I have, after all, spent the biggest part of my life up to now battling, and more often than not, losing to, my insecurities.  As a child I hid behind the shelter that my younger, more athletic, attention-seeking sister provided.  She was bigger than life and the focus and attention was always on her, leaving me to bask in obscurity … feverishly hoping that in obscurity I would remain.  But … God has a way of putting me in situations that far, far, far exceed my comfort zone and at a precise moment of His choosing, he gives me a choice; live or die.

My childhood faded to teenager, with even more reasons to be insecure.  The more I tried to fit in, the further out of the loop I became until I felt like a party of one … even in the midst of a crowd.  As my teens rolled into early twenties, it seemed that the insecurity consumed me.  I became a slave to the words of other people, whether they were actually meant for me or not.  Every criticism threatened to cause me to simply collapse into myself, not unlike an exploding star.  I became easy prey for someone to take advantage of.  And they did.  And I did nothing.  I felt so powerless.  I was dying.  I had chosen to die.

I suppose it is apt that this blog contain some remnants of Jim as this, had he lived, would have been our thirteenth anniversary.  I met Jim unexpectedly and the moment I looked into his eyes, I knew something was about to change.  I was so broken when we met, and in my mind, beyond redemption.  I had lost my way, my vision, myself and most importantly, I had lost my faith.  Through the next ten years, he chipped away at the insecurity, pushing me to look inside myself and face demons that haunted me … he damaged the high wall I had built and allowed light to shine into paralyzed places in my heart.  He helped me to find enough of myself to build on.  I realize with certainty that I was stronger when he died than I was on the day I married him; his encouragement, faith and devotion instrumental in coming to that realization.

Now, back to today … without a bit of insight into why it was such a turning point, the accomplishment would really have meant nothing to anyone but me.  And so it happened … an older man that I came into contact with today was harsh, with a harsh tone and harsh words.  I immediately felt myself closing off at the possibility of a confrontation and began wondering what kind of terrible home life he must have to be this way… but this time, a little voice inside me said “I thought you were going to work on not doing that anymore”.  And, after a momentary feeling of shock at the confidence (a state of being I struggle with) that I had the power to change, I felt a lock slide open.  As though a mist had been lifted, I saw him not as someone with a difficult home life, but only someone who was different than me.  Someone who had a personality diametric to my own and not simply out to hurt my feelings.  I looked at him differently, as a human being with thoughts and imaginings of his own and I no longer felt the need to ball up and cry.  I smiled at him and conversed regularly in the face of his demonstrative behavior and he smiled back.  He was not out to get me, didn’t hate me and had no idea that he had the power to hurt me; he was just an old man being all he knew to be.  And I didn’t internalize it this time.  The insecurity that sometimes threatens to suffocate me took a serious hit.

There will be many who read this that will have no understanding of such emotions as insecurity and the lack of confidence that is evident here; those of you who are self-assured and confident and have been since the beginning.  There are some, though, and those are the ones I write to, that will.  I found out today that I do have the power to control my emotions to some extent by searching for what I didn’t see before.  The humanness of us all.  What an intoxicating feeling to know that there is still more to learn about myself and,  gloriously exciting, how anxious I am to learn it.  I am thankful, as always, to a loving God who shows me what I need to know to be useful in the places He intends to send me.  I wait with bated breath to see what comes next …

Isaiah 42:3 ~ A bruised reed shall He not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment to truth

Power and Beauty …

a potent combination.  Today, when I came home from work after wishing for hours that I could be outside enjoying this incredibly beautiful October day, I stopped by the mailbox.  I’m a slacker in the worst way when it comes to the day-to-day things that people do on a regular basis, like checking mail.  I’m sure that the mail carrier truly believes that nobody actually lives at the address where they leave mail but that somebody just comes by every week or so to pick it up.  Not the case the last few days, though, because I have been looking for something specific.  And today, my waiting was rewarded.

It is no secret that I love music, nearly every kind, especially wordless song that can take me nowhere and everywhere all at the same time.  A few weeks ago, I was introduced to a composer that rocked my world.  Before then, I had somehow never heard of Gustav Mahler and were his name mentioned, I would simply assume that he was some dead scientist or something.  He is dead, by the way, but he wasn’t a scientist, he was a composer and even more than that, he was a genius.  I listened to one symphony and I was irrevocably hooked on the beauty, power and purity of his compositions.  I couldn’t stop listening.  Day and night, night and day, I listened to everything I could find that he had written.  It was emotionally draining and I found myself completely and wonderfully exhausted.  I heard his music played by many different orchestras, led by different conductors on different continents.  None of that was important as it was all about the sheer ability of the music to move me in ways that I never imagined.  Lots of music moves me  emotionally, but until now, I have never been moved in such a way that I felt physically weak and uninhibited.  My search for a place to hear his music played by a live orchestra became nearly an obsession.  I looked at every venue I could find within a 400 mile radius.  My motto became “have ears: will travel”.  I can’t remember the last time I was so focused on one particular composer and I was mesmerized by this latest discovery.  There are many composers that I love to listen to; after all, who doesn’t love Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, Chopin, Tchaikovsky and Brahms?  OK, so maybe many people  have not only not heard of them and certainly don’t love them as I do, but I digress;  I was no more than a quivering puddle of longing after the first movement.  I found myself openly crying during some of the pieces and realized that I would likely go insane if I couldn’t hear the soaring and intoxicating notes somewhere besides the cut-rate speakers on my computer, on my phone or in my car.

After much searching, I found that one my two favorite symphonies was being performed by the  Cleveland Orchestra in Ohio.  I could not believe my good fortune.  Not only was I finally going to hear it for real, as an added bonus, I could visit my cousins, whom I love dearly, at the same time.  I thought it over for about two seconds and then ordered the tickets. I have checked the mail every day since that time and practically jumped out of my skin when I found them in the mailbox today.

It will be a titillating four and a half months as I wait for the moment when I will travel to Ohio, but each time I find myself discouraged or disheartened, I will remember what, if the Lord is willing, I will get to hear when the time comes.  I wish I could adequately express the magnitude of being turned on to what I consider one of the greatest discoveries of my life.  The sound of life, love, beauty, praise, worship and a cacophony of other emotions that actually leave me speechless and feeling as though  I need a cigarette once it’s over is literally mesmerizing.  I don’t expect the people I know and love to understand this obsession.  I can see them, my family and friends, in my mind’s eye, shaking their head and wondering what in the world I could possibly be thinking.  I have never proclaimed to be a part of the pack and I suppose this proves it, but I don’t care.  Life has looked different since this music touched my life …  different in a wonderful kind of way.  So I will wait, patiently when I can and inexplicably juiced when I can’t, to  listen, with tears, joy and hope, to that which has made me feel whole in a way I never expected..  No, the people I love won’t understand this anymore than the hundred other things they don’t understand about me, but for some odd reason, they like me anyway.  I am blessed, so richly blessed by my Heavenly Father who loves me, and will not take a moment of it for granted.  I will sing.  I will dance.  I will rejoice … for His grace (and His song) is sufficient for me.


Psalms 95:1 ~ O come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation.

Choice …

the act of choosing picking or deciding between two or more possibilities  That is how Merriam Webster defines choice.  It doesn’t define it as waiting for someone to tell me what to do or worse yet, demanding that I follow a certain path.  It is something that is between me, my heart, my soul and my brain.  But choices didn’t come about just so I could chew my bottom lip and wonder what to do.  Everyone must choose between one thing or another, several times a day.  Do I have a pack of crackers or an egg McMuffin?  Do I stop for gas on the way to work or on the way home?  Do I go the regular way or take a shortcut?  Do I speed and hope I don’t caught or simply speed and not care either way?  These are mundane, daily choices that I make without any real thought or care.  They are the simplest of decisions to make.  But, and didn’t you just know there was going to be a “but”?  But, these choices are not the ones that define me and they are not the ones that define others that make them.  The life altering, time-stopping, mind-blowing, direction changing choices are a lot more complicated.  I’m not much of one to take a lot of time deciding about things, at least not anymore.  If the mood strikes, I just go and do, do and go and let the chips fall where they may.  The downside of not taking the time to ruminate is that I often find myself picking up many chips but it beats being led along by the nose because I didn’t have the courage to follow my own heart.  Not everything is black and white and every choice is not as easy as deciding what to have for breakfast.  Wanting something doesn’t always make doing or having it the right choice.

That being said, it is important to know where the boundaries lie; how far I am willing to go and how much of myself I am prepared to give to the choices I make?  How much of myself am I willing to sacrifice just to be able to hold onto or let go of something that just doesn’t fit?  That is a question that everyone has to ask themselves from time to time.  As I look around during my day to day life, I see many people who have fallen into the same trap of feeling like having a choice isn’t an option.  It isn’t always a case of being weak-minded or careless; often, instead, it is the result of of being vulnerable, naive and impressionable.  Had I the courage many years ago to follow my heart and listen to the sense my mind was trying to make, the path my life could have taken would likely have drastically different than it was.  That is not to say I haven’t had a good life, but because I didn’t have the confidence in myself nor the courage to possibly cause a confrontation, it hasn’t been an easy one.

I used to spend time wondering and dwelling on what would have happened if way back then, when I was caving at every turn because I just couldn’t bear the thought of having someone not like me, I had been more self aware and confident.  Not that I don’t still have moments of regression and doubt, but I have them with a louder voice and an assurance that the choices I make, for the most part, are my own.

There are things that have come from my poor choices that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world, but that doesn’t make knowing that I did it all the hard way any easier.    Confidence and courage are two things that I learned once my daughter was born.  I no longer had the freedom to be indecisive and stand in the background waiting for someone to tell me what to do, not if I wanted her to have a different life than mine.  Being complacent, unsure and wavering were not a traits that I wanted to pass along to this beautiful, brilliant child.

Of all the people I have met, cared for, loved, passed on the street or simply seen from a distance, I feel like I can say with assurance that each and every one of them has made poor choices at some time in their lives.  With some, it is obvious that they are paying for them even now while with others, it is more difficult to visualize the toll that a life of indecisiveness and passivity has taken on them.  In earlier times, before I grew up, so to speak, they would have seen the same in me.  I am at a place now where I am comfortable in my own skin and not afraid to stand up for myself, for what I believe and for the people I love and care about.  I’m not afraid to speak my mind and go my own way.  At some point, though not before I had missed out on so many wonderful things, I stopped being that shy, timid girl and became a woman who is more sure of herself and ready and willing to take a risk or two just to see what happens.

Having that confidence and willingness to separate from the pack  is what I wish for everyone.  To be bold, confident and able to stand for what they believe in and strive for;  able to lay down their fear of walking alone and go down the path that they were chosen for.  Confidence is a powerful thing and while I wish I had known it sooner, it is enough that I know it now and I am thankful that God saw fit to lead me out of valleys I led myself into and.  I am blessed and pray that my life will be a testimony to my God who has been with me even during the worst of it all.

2 Timothy 1:7 ~ For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind

Today, I feel …

strong.  accomplished. motivated. tired. empowered.  It was a long day consisting of a long, difficult hike, mostly uphill, to be able to stand a bit closer to the sky and look out upon the beauty that lay below.  My trail shoots are usually five miles and under and while they are often to high places, with climbs and some measure of danger, today took the cake.  For eight hours, myself, my sister, niece and cousin trekked ten miles, mostly uphill, at a fairly steep incline.  At times, the steepness was such that holding onto trees or putting our hands on the ground was essential if we wanted to live to see another day.  It is, to date, the most difficult hike I have taken.  Had we decided to come in after visiting the White Rocks overlook, it would have likely been pretty much par for the course.  But no.  It wasn’t enough.  We went on to the Sand Cave.  I blame myself for it as I wanted so badly to see it and while we were there, we decided to bite the bullet and add an extra three miles to our adventure.  Knowing now what I didn’t know this morning when we started, I realize that in the future, I will go to one or the other, not both.  Actually, after having visited the Sand Cave, I can’t think of a good reason to go back.  Don’t misunderstand, it was beautiful, but it wasn’t what I had pictured in my mind.  The sand was deep and nearly impossible to walk in with shoes on.  I’m not a fan of sand in the first place, especially with shoes on, and this didn’t do anything to make me more of a fan.  The sand had the consistency of baby powder and didn’t stick to anything; a couple of stomps on a rock and all the sand feel off my shoes.  It was unusual and the ceiling and walls of the cave were spectacular, but still …  not a place I would purposely go to again.  The hike down to the cave was steep and, at times, treacherous, but the hike out was dangerous in the beginning and just plain exhausting by the end.  Already being tired and hungry (since as usual, I only had a pack of Toast-Chee crackers) made the climb out from the cave unusually strenuous.  The entire trail was rocky and rough, making it even more arduous.  The trail is listed as moderate, but don’t believe it for a minute.  It is, in places,  somewhat moderate but mostly difficult and not a trail I would recommend for amateurs.

Next weekend, I will go back to my beloved falls to see the foliage change and sit on the rocks for a while, enjoying the sound of rushing water and the complete solitude that I have found nearly every time I have gone there.  After today, it will feel no more strenuous than walking to the mailbox.

Let all creation sing a song
So that I may sing along.

Living for the Weekend …

isn’t really wishing your life away.  During the five long days between Sunday and Saturday, while I wish for the weekend to be here, I’m living.  Every day, every minute, I am going about the daily grind that is a big part of my life.  I wish for 5:00 on Friday starting first thing Monday morning.  I know that once Saturday comes, I will be up and out before the sun, doing, living, moving and embracing a beauty that otherwise lives in my head.

Occasionally something comes along that distracts me even from wishing for days off.  When that happens, there is little to do but hang on for dear life and ride the wave until it either drowns me or dumps me out somewhere; broken, blessed and sometimes disheartened.  Each failure and triumph is a lesson and my purpose is to learn them.  I have no illusions, however, that there are not others who feel this way.  Some  call us weekend warriors, some call us wannabe’s, some call us weird and unsatisfied and others just call us nuts. I don’t consider myself a warrior on the weekends, nor a wannabe, nor unsatisfied or nuts; I am just somebody who wants to see and do and see some more for the vastness of creation can never been fully experienced in a single lifetime.  I have difficulty staying in one place when I know there is somewhere else to go … and there is always and forever, as long as time lasts, somewhere else to go.

Some days I wish could go on for weeks and others cannot possibly end soon enough.  But inevitably, I know that if I can hang on for  a few days, (because once I’m set free I will be rewarded by one amazing thing after another) I will be set free as a bird from a cage.  I don’t mind working, not overmuch anyway, but there are many other things I would rather be doing.  A disheartening thing  for me is looking out the window and seeing the light change and knowing that, for the most part, I am missing it; as a photographer, watching the light change without me becomes, at times, physically painful.  At times like that, I wish even harder for time to pass.  I don’t feel bad about it and have no intention of not wishing for weekends.  The drum I march to may not be the same rhythm as others’, but it suits me just right and, at some point, they meet up anyway.

I’m not much of a joiner.  Where I am, for the most part, I am there alone.  I, unlike many, however, don’t mind being alone.  It would be a fallacy to say there was never a time I didn’t wish for company, for someone special to share the beauty that embraces me, in the recesses of my mind, like a lover …  but there is something so serene and renewing about being in the middle of a beautiful place in nature with nothing but the sound of the earth mingling with the music in my head to keep me company.  If anyone has ever stood on the top of a mountain, feeling the wind, lifting their arms and face to enjoy the sheer freedom of it … or  lying down in a field of blooming flowers, letting the sun warm their body even as the fragrance overtakes them … or standing close enough to a waterfall to feel the mist as it moistens their hair and skin as it plummets to a clear pool below, or feeling an intimacy that moves the soul and spirit in ways that were never expected or imagined; they understand.  They know what words can never describe.

These days, my time off is spent hiking in and around Southwest Virginia, not just because it’s where I live, but because it is a spectacular sight to see.  I pack my gear, put in my earphones and listen to the beauty of music while I immerse myself in the beauty of nature; a Pentax around my neck and my eyes always searching for what I wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t been looking.  That is part of being a photographer at the core of my heart.  Everything is beautiful, everything is alluring, everything is a photograph and nothing is too small to stop and admire.  During every moment, every adventure, every triumph and every disappointment, I know that I have been blessed beyond imagination by a loving God who knows what moves my heart and soul.  There are lessons to be learned and joys to be experienced.  It’s too late for me to change now, being as I’m getting old and set in my ways, so I’ll just go with it.  So far, it seems to suit me just fine … but eventually, the need to photograph will overtake everything else.  I feel, as I have for years, that this is God’s will for me.  He has encouraged me when I became discouraged and opened new doors into photography.  I am humbled that He would use me to encourage His people by doing what I love.  I am truly and excitingly and reverently and beautifully and gratefully blessed.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~Robert Frost

It isn’t an issue …

my niece’s Down’s Syndrome, that is; as a matter of fact, until someone brings it up, I forget about it.  I thought about it quite a bit this weekend, though.  It was the annual Buddy Walk, a walk sponsored by the National Down’s Syndrome Society.  There is a chapter of FRIENDS (Friends Reaching and Inspiring Neighbors about Down’s Syndrome) that services Southwest VA and Northeast TN.  It is through them that the Buddy Walk takes place each year.  But, I digress.

I saw many children there, many who were the same age as Grace, some older others younger.  I noticed many disabilities that I never give a second thought to  because I haven’t had to confront them with Gracie.  She does everything her sister does, sometimes even better, giving the impression that there is no disability.  While surrounded by the children and their parents, I had to take a moment and wonder what they go through on a daily basis just to insure that their child can have a routine of sorts.  Our biggest challenge is keeping up with Gracie as she is as fast as lightning and can be gone before you can say “Where’s Gracie?”.  Maybe we should dress her in a red and white striped shirt and make a book about her.

At one point, I took her with me and let her jump in one of the air-filled things.  What she really wanted to do was go down a slide that you had to climb up via little “foot pockets” to get to, kind of like the rock-climbing attractions at some malls.  I made her wait so her daddy could with her.

As it turned out, she didn’t need anybody to go with her.  She climbed up that thing like a monkey and never looked back, except when I was taking her picture because she is, irregardless of everything else, a ham.  I was so proud of her and a bit disappointed in myself for not having enough confidence in her abilities even though I see them nearly every day.

There are many lessons I can learn from Gracie.  I can learn to not know the meaning of can’t.  I can learn that just because something is hard has no bearing on whether I can do it or not and that unless I try, I will never know.  I can learn unconditional love that is blind to looks, color, demeanor, personality, social status, intelligence and the myriad of things that I roll my eyes at.  She doesn’t see with her eyes, but with her heart.  I think we could all use a bit more of that.

I thank God for both of my nieces and would lay down my life for either of them, but I thank Him especially for blessing our Gracie, for healing the hole in her heart, for fixing her kidney and for making her a grand example to all of us.  God Bless you Gracie.  You make me want to be a better person.

Romans 11:33 ~ O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!

when life takes over my life …

Wow.  The last few weeks have been brutal.  I know that many people will be able to relate to what I’m writing about; the unpleasable people we come across from time to time.  I’m in that exact situation now.  I’ve been in it once before, but compared to this, that one should really be stricken from the record.  I have 100% to give and have every intention of giving it, even though it won’t really help.  At least I will know I’ve done my best.  That’s all we can hope for right?  That we’ve done the best we can at whatever we’ve feebly attempted to do.

Sometimes, though, our best isn’t good enough.  Those words take me back to the evenings after my parents learned I made a C in math.  I really was doing my best and the teacher, who tried her darnedest to tutor me, could attest to that.  But my best would never get me an A.  I did make an A in Creative Writing; I was the only one excited about that.

Sometimes our best is good enough, but the one we’re trying so hard to please has a certain mindset of how things will be.  Mind-reading is a rare talent, one I don’t possess, but have wished fervently over the past few weeks that I did.  But there has been one constant, one balm, one measure that soothes my body, soul and spirit.  It is the same one as has always been, but this time, it is more consuming than ever.

Music.  It has literally taken over every moment of my life that isn’t bombarded with my current (though thankfully, temporary) job.  It fills my dreams.  It fills the empty moments, all of them.  I have a hard time describing something so magnanimous, so powerful that it consumes me; that the notes are the last thing I  hear as i drift off to sleep and the first thing I think of on awaking.

Someone played for me.  For a long time, they played and sang, mostly because their ego loved to have an audience and I was fine with that.  I have an ego of my own and I certainly didn’t expect to be mesmerized; now, i’m just overloaded.

These are the times I’m talking about.  The moments when my skin doesn’t feel strong enough to hold my blood in.  When life tells me that I have to break some eggs to make an omelet and as I look around, I realize that all the eggs are already broken.  And they just sit there.    These are the panic moments, the ones that either make or break me; moments that help me become stronger if I’m not too panicked or dense to learn what is being taught.  Once this time is over, I will be smarter, bolder and more able to see that life goes on, that time, once gone is gone and that important things always float to the top.

I am living the life God has for me and it will take me where it takes me whether I want to go or not; I will try to make the best of it.

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me ~ Philippians 4:13