01 02 03 Down In My Heart Joy!: What I Didn't Know I Was Missing 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33

What I Didn't Know I Was Missing

34
Photographer Tara Whitney regularly inspires me, but her post today really tugged on my heartstrings. Life is so fragile. A beautiful sunset, like this one we drove through in New Mexico, lasts for less than fifteen minutes.  The colors were really this brilliant.


The way my mom’s face looks when she laughs – that lasts for a few short seconds. Thankfully she laughs a lot.  In this set though, I'm laughing as I light the final candle of Advent.  My mom is tearing up as she shares with our family how special each of us is to her.


The way my nieces and nephews look right now. That will last sometimes only days before a new growth spurt, and they have changed again.  Do you still make sound effects when you tell stories?  Do you still wiggle your toes when you talk?


I love how Tara said it here: “The sun (and the children) gave me just about fifteen minutes. I could have wrangled for more time but what I got was enough. Just enough to get a bunch of pictures that I love, and two pictures that I need. That I didn’t know I needed.

“I wonder, does it feel that way to you? You see a photograph of someone you love (whether you took the photo or not) and it feels like you just found something that was missing? It has captured them in such a way, that until it was frozen in a picture, you didn’t even know it was something you thought was important enough to remember? This is one of those.”

Our family spent an amazing Christmas together in Santa Fe, all fourteen of us in a four-bedroom house. There are so many great photos, but just a handful that give me the feeling Tara is describing. I’ve been debating how to post photos of this vacation, and her post made me settle it. I just want the ones that make me feel like I found something I was missing.  Here's a taste.

My parents cuddling on Christmas Eve. I'm so grateful to grow up with parents who are crazy about each other.

My dad, brother-in-law Matt, and his son Sebastian. They are deep in thought and conversation. Their expressions capture them exactly as they are - unposed, unaware of a photo op.  Just companionship. Sharing ideas, opinions.

Life. Christmas morning. Paper on the floor. Sippy cups on the table. Mercy fixing her hair. Isabel fixing Daniel's. Esther reading, camera around her neck. Matt gesturing while he talks. Tabitha and Piper close together. Mommy interacting with the boys. Sebastian's pants ripped so he goes without until someone notices. Priscilla listening. My dad and I are the only ones missing. I'm behind the camera. He's probably cleaning up or making coffee. Just a moment in time.

Opening gifts

Telling the Christmas story with a minature porcelain nativity turned into finger puppets.

She was nearly as delighted with this cutesy dog calendar as she was with her Kindle!

Mercy opening her Apple Macbook that was packaged in a Dell computer box. Genius. Tabitha, always gorgeous, and especially so in the morning light, trying on a sweater that was a gift from Matt.

Matt playing with Piper and Piper's first Christmas baby doll. He gets SO animated and fun and funny when he is entertaining his kids. I love it. It's like this whole new side of Matt you've never seen before.

Books, and reading outloud to each other, are an integral part of our lives. I cherish this.



Mommy, always patient, always loving to get into someone else's world and make them feel special. Listening to Benjamin explain the nuances of GPS.


In case you can't tell, Matt is wearing his daughter's head band.

Sebastian said, "Tate a picture of me!" then turned around and flashed me this amazing smile.

I gave Benjamin a pack of capsules that turn into sponge animals so he could share them with the kids. Isabel is waiting patiently for her pink cheetah to develop. She is so focused and beautiful.

Reading outloud again. But from a Kindle.

Aidan playing quietly with toys - namely, animals, which are always his favorite toys.  Isabel the "snow princess" dancing for the entire family.

Piper could make anyone smile.




Tara's post goes on to discuss slowing down, and her process of eliminating some of her own, and her family’s, busyness over the last two years. It’s a process I’ve been working on for almost a year now, and have finally made some progress.

I have realized my life-long issue with busyness was I somehow believed productivity gave my life value. If I ended up with a night at home, nothing particular to do…certainly I could organize something, or clean something, but there were no pressing projects or deadlines…..I would get depressed. If I took a night to watch a movie, or sit around with people, I sometimes would go home depressed. I can’t believe I can finally put my finger on it, because the truth of it evaded me for so many years. Productivity was driving my personal worth. I never said I wanted to be busy; I just said I wanted to get things done. No one set this standard for me. Somehow I’ve just been living it.

When we started marriage counseling almost two years ago, we spent months making lists of our responsibilities, activities, desires, and setting goals and schedules with intention. We were shocked when we assembled our “sample” monthly calendar, and discovered that only ONE day of the week didn’t have some activity scheduled on it. Every weekend day had something going on, and every weekday evening had something going on except one. None of these activities included routine things like paying the bills, cleaning the house, or even hanging out with our family. And there’s just two of us. No kids. Just two schedules. Chock. Full.

Something big shifted in me the last year. I realized I am so over living this way. In the past, you could have heard me complain of being tired or overwhelmed, but I still felt driven to do everything anyway. That drive just disappeared somewhere in my last two years of life. I’m ready to slow. I’m ready for peace. I don’t get depressed when there’s no deadline pressing on me anymore.

Our schedule now has only two weekday commitments, three if you include our date night. Our weekends have church every Sunday, and one Saturday per month. That’s it. And I’m not depressed about it! In fact, I’m ecstatic.

As we look toward a future that will include children, I’m painfully aware of how many American families live an equally crazed pace. Two parents with full time jobs; three kids with music, sports, and clubs; different school schedules, different friends, and, and, and. The frenzy of carting everyone to everything is not adding joy in life; it’s taking it away. I don’t want to get there. From the beginning, I want to create a pace for our family that is peaceful and focused.

It’s not like I want to be homebodies all the time. But I want to be available when a friend is sick, and needs her kids watched for the day. I want to have time when my sister calls to run errands together. I want my schedule to be open when someone I love needs to talk.  I want to be in the middle of the little things that are the only things that really matter.  Those are the moments I don't want to miss.


Labels:

35 36 37 38