Isn't She Lovely?

Her Favorite Dress

Photo by Bgrace

Happy Birthday Beautiful.

Sanctuary

Stained Glass

photo by Bgrace

“The boy Samuel ministered before the LORD under Eli.
In those days the word of the LORD was rare;
there were not many visions.
One night Eli, whose eyes were becoming so weak that he could barely see,
was lying down in his usual place.
The lamp of God had not yet gone out,
and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD,
where the ark of God was.”
I Samuel 3:1-3

The treasures packed into these three verses amaze me. Words are sacred vessels, worthy of our attention. It is always important to remember, as we approach Scripture, that the authors, under the leading of the Holy Spirit, were actually authors. Good ones. They knew what they were doing. They chose to frame and fill their stories with important details, and placed them just right so that rather than merely transferring information they painted a true and rich picture with their words.
Chapter 2 of I Samuel wraps up with the Lord’s decree against Eli and his sons for their dishonor to the Lord and the foretelling of the raising up of a new and “faithful priest, who will do so according to what is in my (the Lord’s) heart and mind.”
Then we come to I Sam. 3.
Just look at all of the contrasts the author heightens for us.
The young boy; the old man.
Samuel the servant; Eli the High Priest.
And what was it like under Eli’s leadership?
“The word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions.”
And just in case we weren’t connecting that time to Eli—the author tells us a physical, and spiritual sign of this: “Eli, whose eyes were becoming so weak that he could barely see…”
A picture of the time, the man, and his legacy.
Then the author makes this intriguing comparison—a really important detail in this story, though easily passed over--and a deeply significant picture.
Eli was lying down in his usual place. Where was that? I don’t really know, but I know that it was not where Samuel was, because Samuel had to get up and go to him.
And where Samuel is may just be the most significant piece of this story.
“Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was.”
There’s a number of things that are really interesting about this little bit of information.
The Ark of the God was kept in the most sacred place. The Holy of Holies: the place where the presence of the Lord was. It was sacred, set apart. Men died from the simple act of touching it, even priests went into the Holy of Holies with a rope and bell tied around their ankles in case they were struck down because of impurities and needed to be dragged out. It seems a very odd place for a little boy to even go, much less make his bedroom. But that’s what it says, plain as day, that Samuel was asleep in the temple near the ark of God. Another physical and spiritual sign the author paints into his picture for us. Samuel rested near to the presence of God.

In a time of great spiritual darkness over Israel, placed under the leadership of a corrupted priest, when the word of the Lord was rare….there was a little boy, who lay resting in the presence of the God, Whose lamp had not yet gone out.
What does it tell us about God? This God who had just revoked his covenant with the house of Eli? This God who had changed up the rules a bit to call Samuel.
What does that say about Samuel? How much was he aware of God? Why would he rest in that place? How much was he aware of the call of God on his life? He was about to find out more.

Psalm 31:20
“In the secret place of Your presence You hide them from the plots of men; You keep them secretly in Your pavilion from the strife of men.

Psalm 33:18-22
“Behold the Lord’s eye is upon those who fear Him (who revere and worship Him with awe), who wait for Him and hope in His mercy and loving-kindness. To deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine. Our inner selves wait (earnestly) for the Lord; He is our Help and our Shield. For in Him does our heart rejoice because we have trusted (relied on and been confident) in His holy name. Let Your mercy and loving-kindness, O Lord, be upon us, in proportion to our waiting and hoping for You.”

I was praying through these verses this afternoon. I have been thinking a lot about the place of God’s Sanctuary, His presence within us. No one in Scripture speaks about it more often or more eloquently than David. And I began to wonder why. Like Samuel, David was appointed to replace God’s anointed leader who had not fulfilled their calling in obedience and holiness. David faced much opposition from the very kingdom he was called to lead. He wanted more than anything to follow God, and yet his heart was torn because that meant Saul and perhaps more importantly, Jonathan, would not have what should have been rightfully theirs. I imagine David often found himself checking in with God at the deepest levels—are you sure this is right God? Maybe Samuel got it wrong. Maybe this is my pride or my own evil desire impersonating itself as you. Maybe I’m being deceived by Satan. With all the opposition David suffered, and because of the tenderness of his heart toward God, I believe that He was often desperate to be reassured by God that he was following His will. That He was walking in obedience. That the battles He was fighting were truly God’s. But David’s battles were not just fought on an external level. I have no doubt that David suffered from severe oppression as well.
Those are the things which caused Him to seek with all his heart the Sanctuary of the Lord. The place where His glory dwells. This was a spiritual place for David. (See Psalm 31:20)
For Samuel, the Sanctuary was a physical and spiritual place.

Sometimes, when I put Sarah to bed at night, I ask the Lord to minister His Spirit to her in her sleep. I pray that He would make His Spirit known to her spirit. (I Cor. 2:9-12) My desire is for her to know Him before she even recognizes Him. I want her to discover the Sanctuary in her before she understands its significance. I want her to be like Samuel.

But that is not really how I came to be familiar with the Sanctuary. I thought I knew it. I sang a lot about it. And I’m sure I had glimpses of it, but I didn’t know what it meant to dwell there, to rest there. Like David, I went to the Sanctuary because I was chased there. A few years ago, I went through an extended time of enormous oppression. It lasted for over a year. I didn’t really understand that was what I was going through. It affected me on every level—spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically. It came at me through every crack and under every doorway. I knew that I was very blinded and confused. The only way I can describe it is that my world felt like it was covered in acid. Everything felt tainted. I felt like there was so much weight pressing down on me that I could barely move. I knew that there was an enormous dissonance in me between what was true and what was not, but for the life of me I could not figure out which was which. That is exactly what oppression does—it keeps us from being able to see clearly and move freely. I also knew enough to know that the levels of oppression I was experiencing were not normal—I don’t believe that most people experience what I went through nor would most survive it. I don’t mean that pridefully, but it was so bad I was begging God to take me. One of the hardest choices I had to make during that time was to stay alive. I tried every recourse I could think of to get out from under it (some good, some not so good), but nothing worked. No one that I talked to seemed to be able to help me. I was at a loss to understand why in the world God wasn’t protecting me, covering me more than this. I know that I’m a very strong person (tenacious as Dad would say), and I have weathered a lot of things that would have put a lot of others under, and I knew that I was almost failing. What kept me going was a small hope that God would not allow this to come at me for nothing. That He allows everything that comes at us in His loving sovereignty for His purposes.
But looking back, I think I see some of the blessings that have come from it. For one, there really is nothing that can replace the lessons we learn in absolute desperation. I remember when I first started to discover the Sanctuary. I was so desperate to be relieved from pain and darkness that I would curl up in a ball and press my face into the bed or floor or whatever I could find to give me some traction and just allow my soul to cry out to God. I had no words or prayers other than, “Help me.” And, “Save me.” Mostly I had tears. And as I would fully pour myself into my prayer I would find that I entered a place of peace and rest and quiet. I didn’t even know for sure if it was real, but I didn’t care. It meant I could make it through one more hour. In that place of peace, I was awake, but I would often then fall into a very restful state and usually go to sleep. Over a period of months, I discovered the Presence of God there. I discovered the Sanctuary. The place where He dwells and shadows cannot enter. Now it is a place that seems very familiar. Often very near.
Scripture tells us (all through the Psalms just for starters) that place is available to those who seek Go with all their heart. It may not come at a snap of your fingers. Sometimes, whether we are looking for deliverance, or wisdom, or simply the joy of God’s presence, we must seek and wait. Sometimes I find that fasting is necessary, or that worship opens its doors. But it is within every child of God.
There is so much in those three verses in I Sam. 3 that you should pray through them yourself. There are a lot of treasures to be found. Much about spiritual leadership and the transfer of it. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, too. But I think that what the Lord has been speaking to me about today is that in times of darkness, whether oppression or when we are waiting for God to move us into our calling and has yet to light the way, we need to discover what Samuel and David discovered: What it is like to live and to rest in the Sanctuary, near the presence of God.

The Chapel at Cornell University photo by Matt

“One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
To gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.
For in the day of trouble
He will keep me safe in his dwelling;
He will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
And set me high upon a rock.”
Psalm 27:4-5

Pain In Light

Pain
Our communal experience,
Our common bond,
The echo that connects our souls,
Tearing, bruising, wrenching, searing, cutting,
Numbing, pressing, crippling, suffocating
Pain

Darkened by shadows within us:
Pride, bitterness, jealousy, self-pity, self-entitlement,
Fear, exhaustion, confusion, hopelessness.
Darkened by shadows cast upon us:
Lies, blame, betrayal, condemnation, contempt,
Abuse, abandonment, revenge, hatred, scorn.


But there is a gift bestowed (but seldom) from above.
(For those who seek it.)
Pain in purity. Pain filled with light.
It is kept in the Sanctuary.
Where shadows cannot dwell
In the presence of One so Bright.

There we encounter its naked beauty
Having shed all its shadows at the door.
It presents itself illumined in holiness
Unformed yet visible,
Intangible yet able to be tasted
With spiritual eyes and mouths.

Rays of light the lids must close upon and gaze instead
At red and yellow hues beneath closed and damp lashes.
Sweet-tart candy that presses tongue to the mouth's roof
At the pinnacle of sensation.
Pain then cloaks itself
With glistening color and sugar crystals.

Pure pain raises its chin
To our weakened condition,
(Almost shut down, barely breathing)
Begs to be leaned into,
Promises strength and change to those still kneeling.
We brace expecting the shock of its force,

But we find not the rush of a river off-course
Instead a gentle covering, an undergirding of sorts,
The indwelling of light turning tears into joy.
In that moment, in that melting, our pain,
Ushered into the presence of Redemption
Becomes holiness, becomes healing.

Photos by Bgrace in order:

Beauty in Rain

Overshadowed

Light Blossoms
Writing: Not really prose or poem, but mine.

So many stories in one...

So today I was working on a series of pictures that were taken on a little outing with friends. And there were like 24 shots I took of Sarah and these wood rounds she discovered. I remember that they were fairly heavy and I was surprised that she could even lift them. But she decided she was going to build, and she was determined. As I worked on the photos, I realized that I was seeing myself in her pictures. That what she was doing was a fitting illustration of what I feel like I'm going through in my journey. It manifests itself in different ways at varying levels. I was touched by her focus, by her determination, by her persistence, and by her undying commitment. She gave herself fully to the task at hand. Everyone else around her had moved on to something else, but she kept working. And in the end, it gave her, and others, great joy.
Thank you Sarah, for being you, and so beautifully at that.

Playing Monet

So Fun Flower

Photoshop has been kind of fun for me to play with lately. It helps us not-so-good photographers by minimizing our shortcomings. And it also gives you a lot of options to showcase your photos in different ways. One of the things I like to play with is saturation levels. It helps the color in your photos pop a bit if things are a bit dismal. But there is a techinique called oversaturation, and it actually explodes the color in your picture and there are some cool effects. The ones I've really liked are pictures where there is an object that is well focused close up, and a background with interesting colors and shapes that tend to blend together so they are a bit blurred together. I love the way it makes the object that is focused look like it is backed by a Monet--like painting of colors and shapes. All these photos are presented mostly right as they come out of the camera, (with some slight lighting and cropping adjustments) and then oversaturated. I think they're really fun.
All photos by Bgrace.

Cup of Gold

Cup of Gold 2

Flying Saucer

Whispers of the Day

"orange sky" photo by Bgrace

"My Father's way may twist and tun,

My heart may throb and ache,

But in my soul I'm glad I know,

He maketh no mistake.

My cherished plans may go astray,

My hopes may fade away,

But still I'll trust my Lord to lead

For He doth know the way.

Though night be dark and it may seem

That day will never break;

I'll pin my faith, my all in Him,

He maketh no mistake.

There's so much now I cannot see,

My eyesight's far too dim;

But come what may, I'll simply trust

And leave it all to Him.

For by and by the mist will lift

And plain it all He'll make;

Through all the way, though dark to me,

He made not one mistake."

--A.M. Overton

"It feels like the light of God in me; the sanctuary, the place of trust, the place of the presence of God is hidden so deep within me that I can bearly see it. It is like the faintest light at the end of a long tunnel. And it is very shy. Not exactly fragile, but shy in the sense that it is so intimately connected with the core of my being, which is suffering such deep violence, that it is not willing to show itself and risk being further violated.

I cannot bypass the violence done within in order to be able to receive--it only causes deeper and further damage.

And I cannot risk the light of God being snuffed out in me. I must protect it.

I know that in that light is the strength and truth of God that must take over more and more in my being. God is more patient then most, however, and I cannot go ahead of His path and movement. So in my stuggle to come to terms with what it means for me to stand and what I'm supposed to stand on, and how, and why, I realize I must learn to crawl again first.

We learn the same lessons all our lives on deepening levels, right?

So if I am to stand on anything, foundationally, it must be God Himself. Not God in me. Not God in relationship to me or others. Not God's word to me or God's actions, or God's creations. Because all of those things involve something that is not purely God. And all of those things are mediated in some way that is "un"God and thus at some level imperfect, incomplete, and undivine.

So what I most foundationally must stand on is God apart from all but Himself. And trust that He moves in and around and through and beyond my imperfectly discerned understanding of who He is."
Notes from my journal, Oct. 2008

I came upon both of these writings today. And they seemed to fit together. Not only of where I was a few months ago, but of how true they ring today.

The writings that I cherish the most, whether my own, or others', are writings that become more and more true and fitting as time passes. There is a polyvalence to them. A refraction of light that hits the words just at a slightly different angle and suddenly what you thought had already born out its meaning shows itself as full as ever of real and beautiful significance.

My dear sister in the Lord, you gave me this poem a long time ago...do you remember? It still rings true today for us both. Remember it as you go. I entrust you to Him.

Love you dearly.

B

Go see this movie...

It makes you ask yourself great questions.

The greatest one being this...

How do you know a man has really changed?

And it answers it beautifully:

When He gives up everything he has,

at the very moment he has everything to lose,

for nothing in return.

You won't regret it.

Midnight Lessons

photo by Bgrace

"If you carefully observe all these commands I am giving you to follow--to love the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, and to hold fast to Him--then the Lord will drive out all these nations before you, and you will dispossess nations larger and stronger than you. Every place where you set your foot will be yours. Your territory will extend from the desert to Lebanon, and from the Euphrates River to the Western Sea. No man will be able to stand against you. The Lord your God as He promised you, will put terror and fear of you in the whole land, wherever you go."

I woke up tonight from a sound sleep and all the anger I've been feeling over the last few days just rose right up to the surface of my soul. I didn't know I was angry, it's funny how sometimes things get clearer in the middle of the night.

And here's what I realized. I should fight my battles upward before I fight them outward.

The whole part about the Lord driving out nations larger and stronger than you has to begin with a deep assurance, a deep realization, a deep confidence, a deep rest, and a deep trust that where you set your foot is where He wants you to go.

In my anger, I'd spiraled all the way back to the whole, "Why aren't you defending me God?" pit I often find myself in. And after I'd screamed myself tired (silently of course, so as not to wake anyone) the still small voice came.

"Defending you to whom?"

My soul quieted immediately, like the boat after the quieted storm. I wanted God to defend me to others, but what I needed was for God to reassure me before Him. When that peace which surpasses understanding began to seep into my spiritual pores, I realized I should have never gone into battle without it. In fact, I realized that with that reassurance the battle would have been unnecessary. (Which tells me that I was fighting for myself, not for God.) Because when I am at rest in God's work in my life, my striving ceases, and my need to protect myself dies. If I had been able to bow out of the center of the circle, and allow God his rightful place I would have been strong enough to walk forward simply speaking from the storehouse of the things I have learned so that I might be helpful. Doesn't that rest that He gives have a power in itself? Is it perhaps one of the ways God shows His presence? I didn't heed the "Hold fast to Him." I started to try to hold on to myself. And then I got mad at God for not helping me.

Thank you, God, for wrapping my arms back around You.

The war we wage on the inside is so much weightier than the one we wage on the outside. It can destroy us, or it can give us the power to walk through the bloodiest of battles unharmed. And the difference lies in whether or not we walk not only in truth, but in the assurance that our foot goes where He leads us. I am reminded over and over again how often and how deeply the journey leads us back to where it began.

Back to Faith.

Please strengthen mine, Lord. Please strengthen mine.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."

Bowing

Bowing

Photo by Bgrace

Aromantic Poem

Matt, at the original Starbucks

Pike Place Market, Seattle

Dear Joe,
I miss you so.
I perk up from my dreams
Picturing those beans
Alone in the dark, cold cupboard.
Our rendezvous
Are now through.
But throughout the morning grind
You’re always on my mind
And all I want is to have a
Time alone with java,
Sugar, and Cream
In my caffeine.
Instead my mug
Gets a hug
With a bag of tea inside.

Until we meet again,

B

Blessing--The Lesson

So I've been putting this post off for a while.

For so many reasons.

One being that I can't quite put what I'm feeling about all of this into words. Another reason is that I feel like I'm in the middle of the lesson...and I'm aware that anything I write about this subject now will probably seem unfinished as I live further through the lesson. But mostly its because I'm in that place where I'm not really sure I want the lesson. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say I'm still kind of wrestling with God over whether or not I want the blessing.

But I guess that IS the lesson.

This is all so tied up inside me that I'm not gonna be able to write it well. I'm not apologizing. I'm just letting you know up front. Maybe after the lesson I'll tidy it up a bit. But the point of this post isn't to teach. It is to express. Each type of writing serves it's purpose, so I've heard. Hopefully that applies even to random sentences strung together with emotion.

So here's how I see it:

When Gabriel paid Mary a visit and told her she was blessed...he didn't exactly tell her the whole story. Mary, yielded to God in her heart as she was, responded with, "May it be unto me as you have said." Or something like that. And that was very good. God knew when He picked her how much she was devoted to him. He knew she would say yes.

But there's this part of me that says, "Hmmmmm, I'm not really sure that was very fair." Quite frankly, I wonder how many times along the journey Mary thought the same thing.

What I'm saying is that Mary did not have an accurate understanding of what she was signing up for. And the other thing I'm saying is that God was ACUTELY aware of that. In fact, He did it on purpose. Why? Because as Jack says, "You can't handle the truth."

Ok, so I'm being a bit callous in the way this is coming out. Of course, unlike me, Mary was chosen as the Mother of God, so perhaps she didn't feel any of these things (though I doubt that.) And I don't really mean to be callous. The truth is, in some ways it was a protection.

Yes, God's not telling Mary what was up ahead was a protection for her.

Mary had to grow into her calling. Her role. Her understanding of what it meant to be the Mother of the Messiah, the Mother of the King, the Mother of the Lamb. Can you imagine if Gabriel had filled her in on the crucifixion right then and there? She's still dealing with, "How exactly do I tell Joseph and my parents and how am I going to keep from getting stoned to death?" I'd say not telling her about the whole crucifixion part was a kindness.

Still, there's this part of me that's feeling like God was a bit (dare I say it) unfair to Mary.

Like she signed a contract she wasn't allowed to read.

How many times in her life did she feel that things were going horribly wrong, like what was happening was not exactly "part of the plan?"

When her son was wandering off for days at a time and shrugging her authority? When she thought that Jesus was crazy? When Judas betrayed Jesus? Or was it only at the crucifixion when all of what she went through seemed like a complete sham?

OF COURSE it wasn't. But God didn't exactly explain that what He had said to her all along was true...it just didn't look quite like she pictured it. She was given the blessed son she was promised but it wasn't the blessing she thought it would be.

It was better.

Is that part of the grace? That God asks us to receive something wonderful, but terrible too. Something so great it is beyond our ability to imagine, but that will pierce us so deeply it will forevermore change us. Perhaps it is precisely that wound which enables us to enter into the blessedness. That somehow being blessed is not a moment but rather a birth, a process, a becoming, and an entering into all in one?

And from where I sit right now, when I look at all that has been, and all that is, and (as I am beginning to understand more and more) what will be, I'm kind of feeling like Mary must have felt when it began to dawn on her that Jesus might actually die. Or that the kind of King he would be wasn't the kind she was thinking of.

She must have had to unthread quite a bit.

And when you unthread...it's really painful. To honestly go through that kind of pain, there is a pause that must be lived through. It's living through the question of whether or not I am willing to accept the blessing as it is. The blessing that is actually offered instead of what I thought God was offering. And its painful to continue to move toward the God who has wounded me. I have to relearn trust. And this isn't a little thing because it takes some sorting through. I FEEL like I was duped by God. But I wasn't. I FEEL like God lied to me, but He didn't. I FEEL like I followed in every way I was called to, and I did. I feel like those around me let me down, and often they did. I feel like the violence and betrayals and abandonments I've gone through couldn't have been right, and they weren't. I feel like none of that could have been part of the plan, and yet it WAS. All along it was. All along God knew. And all of those things don't seem to add up to the outcome UNTIL God sheds his light and says, "Now look and see what I have for you, what I have told you of all along, how my promise is true." And you go, "OOOOOOH. Now I get it."

But why didn't You just say so in the first place?

The answer is actually fairly simple:

I needed to go through every excruciating step of this journey to be able to enter into this blessing, in its right time, in its fullness.

But can I forgive God for loving me enough to wound me so deeply? And can I offer myself up for more?

Am I willing now to receive the blessing? To let my heart be warmed from its cold grave and my arms open to receive the promise of the God who loved me so much He chose me for this?

The blessing in its full light is always better than what we thought we saw. JESUS was the Messiah for all people of all times and Mary's own redemption came through his death. Jesus was raised up to rule at the right hand of the Father and His glory made known to all. Why wouldn't we say, "YES!"

But there are those in between moments where our hearts are still bleeding from all the tearing that has taken place and we're just not sure we're up for the next leg of the journey. This is the pause I find myself in.

And God is gracious. He gives us time and grace to heal.

I wonder what it was like for Mary to see the resurrected Jesus. To feel all of that horrible despair and desperation and hopelessness melt away into pure joy.

I wonder what it was like for the realization to dawn on her that He was to rule a heavenly kingdom.

I wonder what it was like for her to realize that all too soon He was leaving again.

I sometimes wonder how her heart withstood so much blessing.

But I'm guessing that now, she's probably glad.

New Year

Winter Rose

photo by Bgrace

There is just something about reading poetry in the morning. My mood turns reflective. I got up early because Sarah woke me up. She wanted to watch Caio. She always does. I changed her diaper and turned her video on. Since I slept in yesterday, I got dressed quietly so as not to wake Matt and made my way downstairs. Em was up watching Saturday morning cartoons in the basement (probably since the wee hours, she's such an early bird) and Grace was still sleeping.

I picked up Winter Hours, my new Mary Oliver book that I got for Christmas, and went over to the stove to make myself some tea. Lady Grey. It's my morning drink of choice right now. And I thought about it. I thought about how different that is. How things have changed. How I've changed in so many ways. How this year is going to be so different.

I'm not drinking coffee for a year. Not a bit, not even in chocolate cake. (The best chocolate cakes have coffee in them.) And now I go to the gym almost every day. But it's for such different reasons than I ever tried to go before. I mean, sure, it will be nice to lose the 5 lbs of holiday weight I've gained, but not because I feel heavy. I do want to fit more comfortably back in my clothes. But even that isn't why I go. It's about my heart. And it's about breathing. Plus Dad says I can't climb Mount Katadin unless I can run 10 miles. I'm halfway there Dad...

I like to cook. I've always liked to, but now I'm more interested in preparing food more naturally. Oh, I'm not on an organic kick or anything, I'm too cheap for that. But I love the idea of learning to cook foods more naturally. It's hard to describe, I'm learning not so much what to cook as how to cook. I love to use fresh ingredients and natural seasonings and to make things from scratch as much as is possible. To do it all in a low cost manner, simply, deliciously, and beautifully. Cooking for people is one way I like to bless them. It's one of the ways I show my love. I love it when the girls help me in the kitchen. Grace made the corn muffins we had last night with very little help from me. We served them with butter and honey and they were delicious with our homemade ham and split pea soup (even the girls like it) and blue cheese apple raisin salad. I got a couple cookbooks for Christmas, my favorites are Back to Basics (Barefoot Contessa) and Jaime at home.

And of course, there's taking pictures. Funny how a year ago I never had any interest in photography. Now my camera is a huge part of my life. I take pictures for the sheer joy of it. And it's all about discovery. I learn so much looking through the lens. And it returns the favor by teaching me...about what I see through it, and the one behind it as well.

And I have a funny feeling this year will bring about many more changes in my life.

So much is different and yet in so many ways I'm still the same.

Perhaps in the ways that are most important.

How have you changed this year?

2008 Photo of the Year

Little Lamb

photo by Bgrace

I thought about putting up my top ten photos of 2008, but choosing ten favorites out of the thousands that I've taken this year was just impossible. I have a couple favorites of each of my children and then my children with each other and then Matt. And then there are purely scenic photos that I love and others that aren't particularly photographic masterpieces, but that are very meaningful to me.

I just couldn't widdle it down to 10. But when I asked myself the question, "What is my favorite photo that I took this year?" there was no hesitation in my mind. It was this one. It's got beautiful composition. It was taken in the very back corner of an old stone barn. The girls and I were out looking for sheep one morning and stumbled upon a sheep farm less than 10 miles away. The farmer was so sweet and let us take pictures and then took us back to where a few sheep had just been born. The lamb Emily is holding is only a few hours old.

I had just been given my new camera (for Mother's Day) and I really had no idea what I was doing (even less than now). The light was BEAUTIFUL, streaming in through the window, but incredibly difficult to work with considering all the lighting contrasts in the dark barn. As Emily picked up the lamb by the window, I gasped--the picture before me was so breathtaking but I didn't know how to capture it.

The mother sheep kept stamping her foot at Emily and threatening to head butt her so I didn't have much time. Em was so content to cradle that sheep in her arms and the look of tenderness on her face and the way the sheep just laid his head on her shoulder almost made me cry. It was so beautiful.

It wasn't until after I had taken the picture and looked at it that I noticed the wooden beams forming a cross in back of her.

To me, it was not only breathtakingly beautiful, but deeply meaningful as well. There's so many nuances to the picture...Emily's middle name is Marie--a derivative of Mary. And so the song Mary had a Little Lamb always comes to mind. It is a beautiful representation of Mary, almost still a child herself, but also the mother of Jesus, holding her precious Lamb who came to take away the sin of the world. The cross in the background foreshadowing the crucifixion to come and the light of heaven breaking through the shadows to shine upon them both. The anointing of the lamb so glorious you can barely look upon it.

Oh, I know I didn't take the picture as well as someone else who knew what they were doing could have. I'm sure there was a way I could have corrected the lighting better. But as I looked at the picture, I realized that if it had been corrected some of the nuances might not have stood out so well, and some of the meaning might have been lost. So it may not be the best picture I've taken this year. But it might be the best picture I've been given. It is a picture of the Gospel.

Personally it is a reminder to me of what I have received.

It is a reminder to me of who I am. Child, mother, and lamb.

It is a reminder to me of what I am called to...a life of great blessing; a life of great sacrifice.

Happy New Year, my friends.

May 2009 be full of blessings such as these.