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Light’s Little Surprises

Posted on August 21, 2011 | Leave a comment

Light.  A photographer’s best friend and worst enemy at the same time.  I think it is safe to say I spend much of my time chasing the light, hoping to beat it to the punch and be there waiting for it when it decides to bring out the beauty of whatever it is that I have come to see.  Sometimes, though, light throws me a bone and lets me see it in ways that I wouldn’t have imagined.  One of those times happened here.  This shot was and continues to be one of my favorites and it was a complete surprise.  I got some curious glances, but they weren’t the first and likely will not be the last.  Thankfully, I never go anywhere without my camera … not even the bathroom, which is where this glorious image was found.  I’m grateful for every shot, but I always feel a little like I’ve won the lottery when I get a great shot that I wasn’t expecting and didn’t have to work for.

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Sometimes dad is just a word

Posted on August 8, 2011 | Leave a comment

I look at my beautiful, grown, college attending daughter and I can scarcely believe that she is mine.  A blessing she is, with a big and seeking heart, brains and a musical talent that I can say, without reservations, she did not get from me.  Her life, in the grand scheme of things, is just beginning and she is on the cusp of adulthood.  But her journey to get here wasn’t an easy one.  She has faced many obstacles in her short time on earth, each one causing what could have been life-shattering circumstances.  But, like the Phoenix, she continued to rise above that which threatened to consume her.  When she was only four, her dad walked out and never looked back.  She was a senior in high school when she next heard from him.  To his credit, he came to her high school graduation, but that is a small consolation when considering all he has missed, and inconsequential in the formation of the astounding person she has become.

As often happens with people, especially children, when they haven’t seen someone in a very long time, she was expecting something amazing.  I guess in her mind, he would still be young, strong and the daddy she so adored.  Instead, she found an older man who was a complete stranger to her.  There was nothing to talk about.  There were no birthdays to reminisce about, no past Christmases to remember and no bond between father and daughter to hold them together. They had nothing, other than blood, to connect them.  While she tried to make small talk and get to know this stranger, the years between the last time she saw him and the present became a chasm that was too wide to cross.  If there had been a desire to cross it, it could have been navigated, but that desire to reconcile must work both ways.  Sometimes, all you can do is let it go.

It is impossible to write this post without thinking of my own dad.  He who worked his whole life just so myself, my sister and my mom could have a better life.  There were summer vacations, surprise Christmas presents, Sunday mornings in church, trips to the lake, rides on the boat, love and punishment meted out fairly and the knowledge that this wonderful, strong man would be there, no matter what.  He didn’t stop there, though.  He became a surrogate father to my girl, giving her the male influence that she otherwise would have not had.  He cheered her on and supported her, grinning just as big as the rest of us at every accomplishment.

When I look at my dad now, surrounded by his grandchildren that bring him immeasurable joy, I think how different life would have been if he had not been such a integral part of it.  My heart goes out to children all of the world who have had to grow up in a fatherless home with the weight of the knowledge that he isn’t there because they just weren’t enough to make him want to stay.  Some of them will overcome the obstacles and others will join the ranks of addicts, criminals and the overwhelmingly confused.  I am one of the lucky ones and I thank God that I had a father who stuck around even though there were likely times when all he wanted to do was run away.  Seeing what I see and knowing what I know, I congratulate and encourage dads everywhere who stick around because their kids are worth it.  I can promise, based on my own experiences and those I watched my baby go through, it may be hard but in the end, it will absolutely be worth it.

The biological father of my daughter wasn’t, when all was said and done, a bad person, but he was, without doubt, a bad father.  He’s not the only one and he certainly won’t be the last one.  It just goes to show that sometimes, dad is just a word.

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Worshiping God in the Middle of His Creation

Posted on July 18, 2011 | Leave a comment

This morning, for Sunday worship service, our congregation didn’t meet in the churchyard as happens each time we have church services.  Instead, we took a detour and went down to the creek.   The beauty of nature became a sanctuary like none I’ve ever been in.  Overhead, the trees, bursting with the leaves that come with mid-summer, made a canopy that swayed in the morning breeze.  The overcast sky threatened rain and the light, soft and yielding, cast a lovely glow on the people that had gathered to worship God and on the beauty of God’s creation surrounding them.  Behind the “pulpit” made up of a picnic table underneath one of the huge trees, the creek gurgled and laughed as it flowed over rocks and made it’s way, as all flowing water does, to the sea.

As I looked around at the people, I saw an array of dress and I couldn’t help thinking that there are places some of us, myself included,would not have been allowed.  Knowing what hangs around creeks and pastures, I wore my jeans and boots.  Nobody cared.  We were there to worship the Lord, not critique what each one was wearing.  While we sang songs from the old Church Hymnal, I walked around taking photos.  I could not pass up such a rare opportunity to get shots of God’s people worshiping Him in the midst of His creation while all that surrounded us sang along with us and, in my mind, took an active part just by being.  After the service, the food and fun began.  There were grilled burgers and dogs with all the fixin’s.  Not long after they got their bellies full, the kids found their way into the water.  With splashing and squealing, the ones who were fishing were, I’m afraid, wasting their time.

All in all, it was a wonderful day of worship, prayer, food, fun, playing, wading, swimming and fishing.  Amidst it all was laughter and fellowship.  I can only imagine that God was pleased to see His children gathering under His canopy to sing His praises and worship His glory.  When I count my blessings, I count photography with them for, through the eyes of the spirit, I see what magnificent beauty God has made.

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A dance with shadow and light

Posted on July 8, 2011 | Leave a comment

On this past Fourth of July weekend, while many folks were out and about boating, traveling, vacationing and watching fireworks, I was walking a beat in the middle of the countryside, immersing myself in a life that I knew absolutely nothing about.  Although color and vibrancy is expected to surface on a holiday such as Independence Day, with the flag flying and fireworks blasting, there was more to what I was seeing than just color.   A wise man once told me that no photograph that is about color should be developed in black and white.  I’ve held onto that advice and have learned along the way that sometimes an image is about color…  And sometimes it’s not.  The ones I was looking for were about light and shadow and I was not disappointed.  So while the rest of the country was caught up in the celebration of freedom, I found myself caught up in the lives that live under the beauty of that freedom.  I spent the Holiday weekend with a bunch of rough, cigarette smoking, tobacco chewing men, tough, driven women, brave kids of varying ages and a myriad of horses, mules and dogs.  A small group they were, but nonetheless, an interesting bunch of people who held a common interest.  On this particular weekend, they brought their campers, horse trailers, wagons, bridles, saddles, grills, tables and vittles and set up camp.  In a flat piece of bottom land in Scott County, VA, what was just a bare place became a starting point for the week ahead.  Each day, beginning on Independence Day, the riders planned to mount their horses or mules and the wagon masters to hook their equines to their wagons and take off for the day.  There was friendship alongside friendly rivalry, but at the root, there was a love of something that bonded like glue.  Photographs can only take me so far and without the intimate knowledge of how a group of people thrive together, the story stops at the image.  When I first showed up with my camera in hand, there were, as expected, some curious glances and several “who is that” questions mouthed amongst themselves.  A close knit group who didn’t have the time or inclination to entertain outsiders, especially ones who knew little to nothing about horses or riding, they were leery of a strange woman with a camera.  I was fortunate enough to have an invitation to this event and was, after a few hours, accepted as part of the gang.  My main goal, secondary to photographing the happenings in and around the camp, was staying out of the way.  I asked questions when there was something I didn’t know, and kept my eyes open for anything that could be used to document what these people were about.  Though there was plenty of coming and going, I was drawn, not inexplicably, to the lined faces of the older men, the laughing smiles of the children and the character of the animals.  Shadows, shades, contrasts and light have always fascinated me and here, with these people, there was no shortage of real life happening right before my eyes.  No one posed for photographs or changed their habits in the event that they might find themselves caught on film.  They did what they had come to do and paid little mind to the gal with the camera around her neck.  After three days trolling the bottom field in the hot sun, I had a “tog tat” around my neck in the outline of my camera strap and a collage of photographs that reminded me, as I developed the RAW files in Lightroom, why it is that I so love being a photographer.  In each face, line, smile, grimace, frown and laugh, there was evidence of a Creator who is able to take the same features and make them different millions of times over.  I am thankful for the opportunity to, for just a little while in a span of time, be a part of something that previously had been foreign to me.  These people work hard, live hard and play hard.  They have lives outside of the wagon train, but for this stretch of days, they come together to share what they love.  And this time, I was allowed to be a part of it.  So to those who made these images possible by doing what they do and being what they are, I am grateful, for without a subject, be it human, animal or nature, a photographer is just a person with a gadget hanging around their neck. I don’t want to sit by as life happens around me and let lessons that I could have learned pass me by.  I don’t want to regret not learning what makes people tick, what makes them laugh or cry and what makes them want to work so hard to accomplish something.  I don’t want to let the colors in the world blind me to the brilliance of shadow and light.  I want to be more than just a gadget rack.

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Posted in equine, Life, Photography, Scott County, Southwest Virginia, VA

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I’d rather (NOT) be staked to an anthill after all

Posted on June 18, 2011 | 1 comment

The first leg of the 2011 Family Vacation began this morning, uneventfully, at around 7:30 am.  The trip over the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina, well into the muggy depths of South Carolina and into the swampy terrain in South Georgia went at a fairly fast pace.  There was a good bit of traffic and actual congestion in some places, but the Indie certified driver I was following changed lanes at the speed of light with very little use of that little stick on the steering wheel that makes either the left or right back light blink, depending on which way you are swerving… i mean merging.  Not far from Savannah, we decided, as I was begging for food, to stop for lunch at Burger King®.  I was in the mood for a hamburger and didn’t really care where it came from.  My family, willing to accommodate me as I think they were close to collapse from hunger themselves, were just as happy to be at Burger King®  as I was.  After eating my junior whopper without ketchup and what onion rings Sophie didn’t steal from me, I hurried outside to photograph one of my favorite things… Spanish Moss.  It was hanging from the branches of the huge trees like the tresses of some long ago princess, blowing in the hot breeze of a South Georgia Summer, but unperturbed by the heat or the wind, it was just there and it was beautiful.  I managed to get several shots with my Pentax, but being an avid droidographer as well, (a phrase used by a fellow tweep, @Curt Fleenor), I wanted to get some shots on my motodroid.  There were several  large trees all with an ample amount of the lovely moss hanging, in places, nearly to the ground.  As it was a public place with an access road passing by, I wanted to be certain that I wasn’t in the road.  It is hard for me to concentrate on anything other than the subject once I get started photographing something and being ran over by a passing car was not on my list of things to do today.  Between the access road and the Burger King® parking lot, there was a lovely little patch of grassy-looking flowers with some shrubs in the middle.  It looked like the perfect oasis to stand while I scouted the best vantage point for the droiding shoot.  I stepped into the grassy mound which seemed to sink under my feet.  I remember thinking it reminded me of a bog-like area at the top of Sammy’s Hill near my home.  Before the thought was complete in my mind, I felt this intense burning sensation.  I looked down and, much to my horror, I could not see my feet or, two inches above my ankles, my legs.  They were red with FIRE ANTS.  Now, such beating, jumping and swiping you have never seen.  I had heard of fire ants and their ability to cover their intended victim quickly, but had never, first hand, experienced anything like this.  I counted, once I was certain all the ants were off my person, 72 bites on my feet an ankles.  Now while that number seems really high, at least to me, it is important to remember that the ants were on my person no longer than ten seconds.  The other important thing to remember and one I am trying not to find fascinating, is that there were hundreds of them.  It was appalling, frightening, horrifying and completely, totally enthralling that they could do what they did in so little time.  As completely befuddling as it was to my parents and, if I have to say it, to myself, I consider it a rite of passage that I was deep in the Southern recesses of Georgia where the Spanish Moss grows, photographing a beautiful thing of nature and was attacked by fire ants.  It may seem lame that it was in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant and it may make some folks roll their eyes and think that my sister was right and that I am a dork.  I don’t deny it anymore than I deny getting a real taste of Savannah was a cool experience, even if it did require benadryl to thwart a potentially severe allergic reaction.  While I’ve never had a severe reaction to an insect bite, I’ve never been bitten by so many at the same time.  I’m sure the patrons of the restaurant thought I was having a seizure, but no one came to see if I were dying.  After the initial OMStars! moment, I found it to be pretty neat.  I have decided, however, that this experience has taught me two things.  First, it turns out that, after all is said and done, I actually would prefer to go to WalMart than be staked to an anthill.  While I hope not to be devoured by an alligator or attacked by a rogue dolphin while in Florida, I do hope for some more interesting, fascinating and OMStars moments in my otherwise boring life.  I could just have easily been in the wilds of Africa or deep in the Rain Forest for all the excitement I felt at this small, though painful, event.  Who knew that being staked to  (well, actually just stepping on, but staked to sounds more profound) an anthill could make me feel so proud to be a photographer.  I guess there are some things that are only to be understood by a photographer’s heart. And second on the list of things this experience taught me… it was so worth it to get shots of the moss that so fascinates me.  So it was, in the end, since I didn’t have an anaphylactic reaction and die, a quite remarkable experience and as I said, well worth the pain of a few hundred biting, stinging, itch-inducing, burning-sensation causing, ants.  With such an experience on the first day, well before our destination was reached, I can hardly contain my excited expectations of what I will experience tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.  I love being a photographer, even when it hurts.  Tomorrow is a new day and I can’t wait to see what awaits…

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Through the Eyes (and the nerve) of the Spirit

Posted on May 31, 2011 | 1 comment

A spirit of fear… something I am very familiar with.  Although God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear, I made my own.  From a very young age, my earliest memories, as a matter of fact, have me running from something.  If it jumped, hopped, mooed, flew, chirped, slithered, creaked, groaned or growled, chances are, I was running, screaming at the top of my lungs in fear that whatever it was would get me.  Now, only a few of the things were really something to fear.  For example, the time the hogs chased me down the hill… that was a fearful moment that was legitimate. My mom and mamaw always kept one ear open for my shrieks of terror for they were many… and they would always come running to save me from whatever it was that had sent me into spasms that time.  This fear followed me through my childhood, teenage years and right on up into my adult life.  I have nearly cracked glass many times as the objects of my fear, real or imagined, manifested in my life.  Once I delved full speed into photography, some of the fears were faced through the zoom lens of my camera.  It became apparent quite quickly that if I wanted the good shots, I had to get closer.  And my need and desire to photograph nature went a long way to helping me overcome fear of things like grasshoppers, caterpillars and bees.  Over time, I got closer to frogs and even managed to get within several feet of snakes.  Spiders, well, there is really little to say.  Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it and I doubt that will ever change.  I remember the big garden spider with the amazing web that I photographed a few  years ago.  I was looking at it through a zoom lens and was several feet away from it.  When I focused that creature, I actually felt sick, so I feel it is safe to say that once an arachnophobe, always an arachnophobe.  But I digress… a few months ago, I made a conscious decision that I was not going to be such a baby about everything.  That decision was challenged when my zoom lens was broken and I had to practically get in the pond with the frogs to get the good shot, but I prayed fervently that they wouldn’t jump on me and God was faithful and kept them preoccupied with each other and they didn’t jump… at least not on me.  But today was my crowning achievement.  I was in the cornfield, chopping out weeds, mom and I talking and having as much fun as you can have when you’re doing hard manual labor in the burning heat.  Dad was nearby working on some piece of equipment or other and talking with one of his friends.  I turned to say something to mom and there, slithering across the field, was a black snake.  A pretty big one, likely four feet or a little better.  It was heading toward the house and I stepped closer to get a better look.  My spirit of fear, which would usually kick in and have me running in the opposite direction, did not show it’s face.  Dad told me to be careful, that it would bite, and with same breath to not let the dogs get it. I walked up to that snake, picked it up behind its head and held it.  It wrapped itself around my arm, tongue flicking out and eyes beady, but I just looked at it.  I had a good grip on it just behind it’s head and I had no fear.  I was so thankful for that moment.  It was, and will continue to be, a turning point in my life.  God used this snake to show me that my fear did not have to control me.  I carried the snake, still wrapped around my arm, to the edge of the field and tossed it across the creek so it could slither elsewhere.  Now while I don’t plan on becoming a snake charmer anytime in the near future, I feel empowered, nearly high from the accomplishment.I went back to chopping the weeds and heard my dad, who has saved me from many critters, say to his friend “I would have bet $500 she wouldn’t have done that”.  I told mom what he said and she said “Phhht… I would have bet the farm.”  This has been a good day, one filled with hard work, serious sweat and jumping a hurdle that even I didn’t know I could jump.  At this point, I don’t think there is anything I can’t do… well, unless it has to do with a spider.  God didn’t give me a spirit of fear… I brought it on myself and am well on my way to overcoming it.  Since I am the photographer in the family, no one can document this on film, but three witnesses should be as good as a photograph.

Cinderella, dressed in yellow, went upstairs to kiss her fellow…
Made a mistake and kissed a snake, how many doctors did it take?

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into the world and back again

Posted on April 9, 2011 | Leave a comment

I was just watching, for the hundredth time, the movie Twister.  Now, while I’ve seen it many times, I watch it because there are aspects of it that appeal to me.  The dialogue, however, is just shy of adequate.  But the dissection of the dialogue isn’t what prompted this entry.  It was the last scene.  The one where everyone is together.  They are a unit.  A group of friends who share a common interest, are happy when something good happens to any of them and are willing to put their life on the line for their friends.  I never noticed it in that way until tonight.  Isn’t that what we all long for?  People who share our interests, get excited when we do well or receive a blessing?  Someone who is willing to die so that we might live?  We all long for that.  I found it.  In Jesus.  It took years of rebellion on my part.  I defied God and everything that He stood for.  I knew I was living a lie and I continued to do it, not mindful of the consequences or even realizing that the torturous life I was living was the consequence.  Years later, I recommitted myself to God and put my life into Jesus’ hands.  It wasn’t easy.  It should have been, but there were things I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up.  How lame that sounds now, that after all Jesus gave up at the cross, there were things of the world that I would rather have kept than Him.  I was, am and will be, as long as God has a purpose for my life, a work in progress.  There’s no shame in that.  I will fail many, many more times before God is done with me.  But each failure and each loss will bring me closer to Him through the wisdom and teachings He gives through the trials.  I try to use my life to bring glory to my God, though many times, I bring Him shame and disappointment.  It is easy to praise God at the height of the fruits of His blessings, and I want to always do that….  but more, I want to be able to praise Him from the depths of the valleys, for at that moment, my hope is in Him… my hope is Him… and He is always faithful.  I come out of the valleys with a newer perspective, one that is closer to the person God is molding me to be.  And in the meantime, He is with me, always, and He already died for me… and one day He’s coming back for me…  How can I wish for what I already have… Praising God for his merciful blessings…

These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world – John 16:33

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Posted in faith, Jesus, Photography

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My musings of DC

Posted on December 13, 2010 | Leave a comment
It’s hard to know where to start when there is what seems an entire lifetime of events… that’s, i know, impossible as the time was only 2 1/2 short days… so i’ll just start somewhere and see where the thoughts and memories take me.. what struck me most profoundly in this incredible metropolis known to the world as DC, is that I felt like I had been there before… I have dreamed of seeing this place since I was a little kid… about 7, I believe… so many times, in my thoughts and hopes, I have walked the streets of Washington.  Some of what I saw was exactly as I imagined and others were more than I expected.  The city itself, at least the part where the tourists go, is clean and depicts itself as a pinnacle of history, tradition, pomp, culture and breeding… a place that draws me to want to be a part of it, to submerse myself in the history and become part of something that feels incredibly special and, at the same time, strangely familiar.  The stark white of the buildings against, on the first day out, blue skies, and then overcast with occasional sunbursts, were impressive.  Massive things they were, standing at attention, endlessly awaiting what could be the most important thing ever to happen.  And smart in their black uniforms were the armed guards standing alert and ready at every federal building.  They patrolled the streets on bikes and could be seen everywhere.  They were unsmiling and quite intimidating… but helpful, mostly, when asked for information.  President Lincoln, sitting stoically in his shrine, was most impressive… I wasn’t really prepared for the massiveness of the statue.  I knew, of course, that it would be large, but this was monumental.  The reflecting pool was frozen, save a small area about five feet wide… the Washington Monument cast a shadow across the frozen pool, a reflection to come another day…The columns of the great buildings were huge and made me think of Coliseums. The people who lived there, and they were distinguished from the rest of us boobs touring around.. were, in my experience, very polite, though distracted with the daily grind and bustle.  What I found to be a cool thing to do, they found riding the Metro a chore and high on the list of “dumb things I gotta do”.  They seemed oblivious, for the most part, they were living practically next door to the President.  It was exciting to think that, at any moment, the President of the United States could pass right in front of me.  I don’t think I will ever forget the feeling of pride and eagerness when President Obama passed by in his motorcade right in front of our eyes.  It was a moment that felt fake, as though I would wake up in the real world… and what a great feeling to realize that, at this particular moment, I and my Pentax were in the real world and this was really happening… DC was decorated for Christmas with wreaths and red ribbons on many of the buildings, a stark contrast to the white… Lights adorned the trees around buildings and Christmas trees were in abundance all over the city.  The huge Christmas tree in the center of the Ellipse on the White House property was impressive, and once lighted, was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.  If the weather had held, we would have stayed one more day, taking a trip to Arlington Cemetery and getting a last look at the White House.  But, Mother Nature had other plans and instead of taking chances, we decided to leave early to beat the foul weather.  On the last morning, while at McDonald’s for breakfast, Taylor and I met a very nice black woman who sat and ate at the table with us.  She had lived hard years, at least that’s the story her face and hands showed.  Her name was Michelle and she was a wealth of information.  She has lived in DC her whole life and when I commented on how beautiful the city was, she laughed out loud and said “you han’t been dinetine has ye?”…  She spoke of her five grandchildren, her eyes lighting up as she told of each one and what they were doing.  She was excited that she was going to see them for Christmas.  We talked about the snow and she told of a big snow last year.  I don’t know if she was homeless… I didn’t ask her.  What I do know is that she was a fascinating, interesting woman with information about a place that I wanted to know about.  I wish there had been more time… I would have loved to have seen “her DC”.  I was reminded again, as she smiled over her eggs and hotcakes, that we are all children of God and He rains on all of us, wherever we are, just as He lets the gentle wind blow and the sun shine… just like He sends the north wind to tear at our hair and clothes and snow so thick that sight is impossible… He is too great to describe in a blog or a photograph… to omnipotent to ever begin to understand… but I know He loves me… and He loves Michelle… and all the others everywhere… He sees the happiness, discouragement, sorrow, joy… in Southwest Virginia and in Washington DC and on every inch of the world, both here and abouts…  I believe this with everything I am, was or ever hope to be… and I know He has blessed me beyond measure…  If this was it, I could not complain… for it has already been more than I had ever  hoped to dream for… Praising Him for blessing me in the midst of my unworthiness…

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Washington DC… A dream realized

Posted on December 9, 2010 | 1 comment
It’s nearly 11:00, and while I know I should be in bed, I find that closing my eyes, knowing that I am just a 5 minute ride from the heartbeat of this wonderful country we live in is keeping me awake.  I wasn’t sure what I would see or feel or think, never having been in or around DC before… Lisa and I both came to the conclusion at the same time, tho, that were mom here, she would be sick.  The metro sways side to side, speeds up and slows down, and often, we were riding backward… Once in the city itself, I was struck first by the cleanliness of everything.  The streets, buildings, lawns, vehicles… even the squirrels… it is all just busting at the seams in anticipation of something wonderful… or maybe that is me bursting at the seams in anticipation…  the streets and buildings are decorated with lights and wreaths and the effect, with the big ol’ buildings and the stoic trees, is a mesmerizingly fascinating one.  On our walk out and about today, as we scouted out the ticket pick-up line and seating for the tree-lighting, we saw the White House, the Capitol building (from a distance) and the Washington Monument.  There are flags everywhere, on every building and post and on many of the cars.  Statues and sculptures are everywhere… some of the people, whose likenesses are preserved in stone, I have heard of and others, I haven’t.  Around every corner is an aura of oldness… of traditions that haven’t been broken in decades and a pride carried on the faces and shoulders of the locals that says it ain’t planning on breaking them any time soon.  The trees, as I imagined they would be, are stunning.  An incredible contrast between the white of the buildings, the green (how they do that in december i don’t know) of the lawns, the blue of the sky and the thousands of Christmas lights and decorations, the trees stand sentry-like, guarding in their own way those that belong to them.  The White House is beautiful, but having seen photographs of it, that does not come as a surprise… but seeing it with my own eyes made me want to cry… I could scarcely believe that another one of my dreams had come true.  The level grounds surrounding it and the huge trees flanking it on every side made it even more stunning.  And if seeing the White House wasn’t enough, the roads were barricaded and the President’s motorcade came through.  While the tinted, bullet-proof glass offered little give where photos were concerned, President Obama is in the limo, behind the driver.  He is leaned forward slightly and, sorry, Mr. President, but those ears would give you away anywhere.  I am still excited about it… i don’t think it would have been any better if he had stopped, got out, and said, “why, Gina… don’t stand out in the cold, come on and I’ll give you a ride to five guys…”  Just seeing what I saw and knowing what I know to be true was enough.  And I waved at him… I waved at the President of the United States while standing in front of the White House wearing a goofy looking hat and feeling like the cat with the keys to the milkhouse.  A once in a lifetime opportunity… but then this trip is filled with them.  I am thankful that my loving God has blessed me yet again with one of my heart’s desires and that He showed me things this day I most likely would have missed if not for His blessing…  I am not worthy, and yet here I am… God is faithful…

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breathe in, breathe out, move on

Posted on November 5, 2010 | 1 comment

Sometimes, at the oddest times, the oddest things happen… and sometimes, this collision of oddness creates a clarity that puts everything in perspective…  Now, just to be honest, I have never considered myself a fan of Jimmy Buffett and certainly not a Parrothead, a Pirate or a rum-drinking beach bum…  But recently, an event happened that jump-started a cataclysmic chain of events…  It was Halloween…. or close to it, anyway, when  Missy gave me a cd… her favorite jimmy buffett songs… not necessarily, as missy said, his most popular, but the ones she liked best.  I took it to the house and when I went to work on Monday, I popped it into the cd player in my car… OMStars!!!  I was instantly, irrevocably and irretrievably mesmerized… Everything I knew about Jimmy Buffett was wrapped up in Margaritaville… I had labeled him immediately as “not my thing”… and years passed.  Then, a few days ago, while listening to the cd in the car, I heard the lyrics that changed everything… “according to my watch, the time is now… the past is dead and gone… don’t try to shake it, just nod your head… breathe in, breathe out and move on”.  Now I’ve had little epiphanies before, little ones that make me say “oooh”… but this was different…  I was, of all places in the shower… Those lyrics came to mind and I looked over the past year, in which I have had to learn to live without Jim… an entire year of “wish jim could see…, as jim used to say…., on this day, jim always…”  An entire year learning to live day by day without the man I thought I couldn’t live without, but was given no choice but to do what I had deemed undoable…. then the words popped into my head “according to my watch the time is now”… and with them, the answer to the question that I didn’t remember asking… that first year, i did learn to live without jim… it wasn’t easy… as a matter of fact, it was the second most difficult thing i have ever faced… but I learned…  and now, “the past is dead and gone”… and there is no changing that… period.  “Don’t try to shake it, just nod your head”… how could you shake it even if you wanted to… life, death, happiness, sorrow, joy, pain… it’s all tied together in life… it doesn’t matter who you are, you know it… and this is where the fork in the road appears…  two choices…take the low road… wallow in what was, but will never be again… stagnate in a pool of self pity and righteous grief… or the high road where you  “breathe in, breathe out and move on”… I choose the high rode.  I spent the last year learning to live without him… Now I will live without him, for to do otherwise is to say that the life God gave me to live isn’t worth living if I have to do it alone… I will take with me the little pieces of jim that i loved so much… but at the end of the day, when the quiet settles and the dark gathers, there is no one here but me… So, with memories that I wouldn’t trade for another day of life, strength born of dragging a burden that was nearly too heavy to bear, courage born of renewed faith and a knowledge that God is who He says He is and does what He says He will do…I’m going to live and  not take a single moment of this precious life for granted…  and if God is willing to send me… I am willing to go… I want to meet His people and look at them through the eyes of the spirit… I want to look at creation… to see it all… I am praying that God will continue to take me down the path of photography until I get where He wants me to be… That I will know what to do when I get there and that every aspect of my life will glorify Jesus… and in the meantime, I will serve Him, I will worship Him and  I’ll breathe in, breathe out and move on…

Yes, I am a pirate… 200 years too late…

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