The Ocean Wilderness

Wednesday, December 31st, 2008

It’s easy to take things for granted when you’re young and don’t know any better. You can hear the same sermon over and over again and still not register the weight of its meaning, if you understand any part of it at all. I’m not talking about ‘from the pulpit’ sermons (although much of what I have to say would be relevant to those as well)…but the little tidbits of wisdom we receive from those who have walked where we’re walking or will walk in seasons to come. I consider myself a thoughtful type, and I soak up a bit more than the average Jane, but lately I’ve been rediscovering lessons and longings from long ago that never made as much sense to me as they do now. I’ll warn, as I explore the following topic, it may not seem exceedingly interesting at first, but its like the depths of the ocean. You may be able to see a portion of  what’s below from above the surface, but you will not discover what lays in wait there unless you jump in and give yourself to the mercy of the water. Furthermore, you can’t know how deep it goes until you touch the bottom with your own two feet…A limit I have yet to reach–not that I really expect to. 

Consider the wilderness. The wilderness is full of nuance and hidden treasures that whisper to the traveller. Those treasures never shout, and you may not notice them unless you’re looking. I once thought the wilderness was truly one of the most undesirable places to be. Sure, it’s pristine. It’s untouched by the destruction/creativity of man. But how horribly boring for a youngster who doesn’t really know how to appreciate and explore the wildness and artistry of it all. Not to mention the bugs! The wild creatures! The harsh elements and beating sun. I’ll say, I do have some special memories from my journeys there as a child, but if you’d asked me then if I would miss spending a lot of time there, I would have said no. Even then I was a homebody, and preferred to do my adventuring in my soul rather than in a literal sense. 

The ocean was much the same for me. I’ve never been a good swimmer, nor especially fond of large bodies of water. Neither have I ever been in the ocean any deeper than my knees, which is probably just as well, or I might have found myself washed out and unable to get back to shore. I have swimming skills equivalent to a fallen log. I can float, but I can only go where the current takes me. None of this water-mobility stuff. I’ve never conquered my swimming handicap, and haven’t yet reached the point where I have a desire to do so. It is one internal bully I’m not eager to confront. Ironically, I spent a fair amount of time at the water’s edge as a child…the lake, the river, the ocean. I have fond memories of all that I did at the there with my family, but now I believe I have a much greater understanding of the ocean as I’ve accumulated some years. The ocean is passionate and powerful, and it is difficult to ignore her when she moves. She’s laced with beauty, danger, secrets and sirens, and though she has her still moments, she is always dancing…sometimes in joyful leaps, sometimes in more dramatic fashion. 

The ocean and the wilderness may be very different in terms of physical geography, but in my reflections and experience (so–metaphorically speaking), they are two parts of the same heart-journey. Both are about surrender, which may be why some people work so hard to avoid them. Surrender seems to be the very opposite of what our society aspires to, and it is certainly not what comes natural to most. Journeying through the wilderness requires you to surrender to the stillness…to spend a lot of time with yourself, and become vulnerable to whatever might be bigger than you. Thank goodness God is not a carnivorous predator, though I will say, coming face-to-face with Him is a wonderful and terrifying experience just the same. The wilderness is uncomfortable, because it is there that you learn that suffering is part of life, and a necessary part of journeying toward freedom in Christ. After all, we are to share in His sufferings so that we might share in His victory as well, right? I’m not saying I like to suffer, but however uncomfortable it can be, the wilderness has proven to be a purposeful and profitable place for me to be at times. 

So it goes with the ocean as well. Power. Movement. I have a healthy respect for God (and the ocean). I can’t fathom the strength and power of either. Journeying over the ocean requires you to surrender to the greatness of the deep…to recognize that you are not the center of your universe, and you are not the maker of your own destiny. You have an important part to play which no one else can fill, but its about Him, not you. Humble pie, anyone? Definitely not comfortable.  

But sometimes the places you want to escape are the very places you’re meant to be. How tempting to steer clear. To stick with the glitter and lights of the big town where nothing looks like what it really is. But what will you miss if you’re unwilling to surrender? What will you fail to gain if you choose to shut out the pain you feel instead of taking His hand at the Cross-road and seeing what waits for you there in your ocean wilderness? Its a tough journey, but one that is well-worth taking. I’ve been there and back, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. And truth be told, as much as I like my little sanctuary in the city, I miss the wilderness walks I took with my dad so long ago. I miss the mountains that waved to me at the setting of the sun each day. I miss the moments of sorting through the smooth stones at our family’s favorite beach and looking over the ocean in wonder of the mysteries held there. One day I’ll return, and I’m certain it will be a spiritual experience.

Encouragement and Motivation

Monday, December 29th, 2008

I asked for encouragement to write more, and received a fair response from some of you who take the time to read my ongoing thoughts about life. Thanks for your interest in my world and my brain. I’ve always found it tough to write for myself, but when I know at least one other person is tuning in to my station, I find purpose and motivation to continue. So here I am. Third topic in two days. It’s not a race or anything, but like I have mentioned before, I’m an all or nothing girl, and I’ve lost nearly two-months’ time in my quest to document things before I forget them. 

On a happy note, my son is bounding into manhood (well, ok, toddlerhood) at the speed of light and I have been so tickled to watch him gain his mobility. For a few weeks, he would literally roll across a room of any length to get to what he wanted. Five feet. Twenty feet. You’d see those little chubby legs go straight up in the air, a good ol’ baby twist, and back down they went with ground gained. A little grunt accompanied each roll, because you know, rolling is a lot of work, and definitely not the most efficient use of energy. You try it sometime. You’ll understand. So he soon left rolling behind for the army crawl. Little chubby legs no longer had a big role to play…they just dragged on behind while his chubby little arms started getting a workout. Occasionally a knee might help give a boost, but those arms took him everywhere he wanted to go. I don’t recall my daughter doing anything like it, so I was especially entertained with his army crawl antics. And now, he’s a crawling machine–mischievous baby cackle and all. He’ll give you a daredevil look and book it to the nearest off-limits item in sight. A whole new chapter is beginning. 

Today I’ve been going through the clothes of both kids, trying to whittle down the ones that should remain in their drawers…hoping that if there are fewer items to police, they might actually stay in their drawers. Lately the two year old has been helping herself to a new outfit every hour, and you know they never make it back in the same shape, even if they are only worn for twenty minutes. Thus, I’m finding dirty laundry amongst the clean, and there is a new pile that needs to be washed, a pile that will be passed on, and a much more attractive pile that will stay in the lineup. It will be nice to have a more manageable selection to keep track of. 

I’ve made several new friends this fall, and have to say, new friendships are special and scary at the same time. I think of myself as an unconventional friend-maker, in that, I usually crash into my friends (heart-wise, not literally) and find it tougher to let a friendship begin and grow in an organic and time-tested fashion. Occasionally, the crashing together really is the natural beginning to a friendship, but more often, it is a slower, more delicate process. I’ve made both kinds of friends this fall, and am thankful for each. I just also find myself feeling an elusive pressure to make sure I offer my love in manageable doses instead of the overwhelming waves I feel inside. It’s safe to say, I care more than I communicate because I’m afraid that communicating more than what I do will lead to rejection. Or misunderstanding. If loving too much makes you a freak, then I’m as freaky as they come. And though I don’t want to be less freaky, I don’t want to freak people out. Ha. That should probably end there.

I’m coming to terms with my passionate heart. I’ve been hard on myself for a lot of years, and have made a valiant effort at smoothing the rough edges and wiggling myself into the box of “comfortable”. But passion isn’t comfortable. It isn’t smooth and pretty. It’s dangerous, and well….passionate. A long time ago I gave up the notion that I would be a dainty girl. A frilly girl. A proper or sophisticated girl. Not saying that I don’t have a touch of each somewhere in me, but for as much as I didn’t think I was an outdoorsy girl when my dad took me all over the mountains as a child, I think I’m a bit wilder than I ever wanted to admit. More adventurous than I ever allowed myself to be. Because I’m great at being the responsible one, I’ve chosen responsibility over adventure many times in my life. I’ve taken on burdens that are not mine, and have picked up dreams that are not mine. Most of those are gone now, but I still have a yoke on my shoulders that I need to surrender. Sure, I have responsibilities that are rightfully mine, and I’m glad to keep them as I’ve pledged. But those other ones…I don’t know what else to do but say a prayer that God would teach me wisdom and give me the only yoke I need. His.

Love and Loss

Monday, December 29th, 2008

I’ve never been especially good at keeping my emotions separate from other areas of my life. In fact, I’ve never been very good at compartmentalizing my life at all, and find that anything I experience affects every other part of me whether I like it or not. In some ways, I’m thankful to be so in tune with my feelings, and even more thankful to be able to express them in the various ways I do. I’m not always graceful, but I am always honest. And though I often give more than some people can manage, I would rather be vulnerable and offer all I have, than to protect myself and withhold anything that is right to give. I guess some would call that “all or nothing”. That’s the only way I know. Thanks dad. Actually, really, thank you. I wouldn’t change any of that about myself even if I had the chance to. But I do have to say, sometimes I feel like I’m standing stationary in a deep rushing river, and the water is literally rushing through me. It’s cold. It’s strong. And not too comfortable in most cases. The story I’m about to share is no different.

I recently had the opportunity to photograph a baby in the NICU, who landed there after complications during delivery. Out of respect for the family I’ll leave out many of the details, but if I may say, it was truly a tragic situation. Full term, healthy pregnancy, turned into this desperate circumstance because of a series of detrimental decisions by a medical professional. I understand things happen. I am even quick to forgive mistakes. But this was a crushing blow, and one that hits very close to home for me. I’m even finding it hard to write about at this moment, but have to find the words to. It’s about more than the story.  It’s about my heart–God’s heart–for the little ones. It is a severe understatement to say that motherhood has changed my life and perspective for all time. I cannot ever look at the world the same, and thus, cannot look at the loss of life the same as I once did. It wasn’t until my encounter with this baby that I understood what it is like to be utterly changed by a tiny person who could not speak, could not move…could not even breathe on her own.

She wasn’t even my own child, but I feel like I have grieved her loss as though she were. I felt the powerlessness in her mother’s eyes, and still have a deep ache knowing that her mother would have given her own life to see her baby survive. Before motherhood, I had no concept of sacrifice, and may not have honestly ever been willing to offer my life for another. In fact, before motherhood, I am not sure I had any concept of love either. Love and sacrifice are intimate friends, and only the servant’s heart can truly experience them they way they were meant to be experienced. I now have a small inkling of both as I learn how to love and sacrifice for my family and for the One who loves and sacrificed for me.  

After a brave fight for life, the family chose to let her go, and all that remains of her are the photographs I’ve taken of her, and the memories each of us have in our hearts. I feel honored and humbled to have been invited to spend that hour with her. Between frames, her still and mostly lifeless body whispered of the value of life to me. And more than ever, I am convinced that we must learn how to value life…and to value children for the blessings they are, even when we have them for but a brief moment.

No one tells you that amidst the challenges of parenting, you actually receive troves of pure gold. The days are not always easy, but if you’re wise to listen and learn from your children, you will gain much more than you give. No one tells you that life is so powerful, that even the beating heart of a brain-damaged infant speaks loudly of the goodness of God to give us the hope and promise He does. I dealt with a whole range of emotions through this experience, but I keep coming back to the fact that despite her very short days, and the grief her family has felt at her passing, her life was so worth all it took to bring her here. I, for one, will never forget her. Nor will I ever be the same. She is a reminder for me that our faith grows when we surrender to God. 

I’ve never seen a more beautiful human being than that darling child that I photographed.

You will be remembered Olivia Faith.

Holiday Pause

Sunday, December 28th, 2008

Sometimes you get so far behind, you just let it all go. These past two months have been so full…full of things I very much want to write about, but didn’t know where to begin. I’ve kept a little list for myself so I can return to the important topics before they’ve completely left my head, but for now, I needed to re-appear to say hello, and to push play after this holiday pause I’ve been on. Hello. I’m back. Can’t say I will be eloquent about it, but here I am. It’s been a deeply meaningful and satisfying holiday season for me, as I watch my two special kids leaping their way out of baby-hood. Even my little guy doesn’t qualify as little anymore. He’s mobile, looking more like a toddler than a baby, and has discovered his deep well of passion (aka screaming fits). The little missy can ride a bike now. With training wheels, of course, but in two days’ time, she went from being a non-rider to a confident pedal pusher. We’ve already taken a trip to the supermarket and back. I’m thrilled and sad at the same time. Day-by-day she’s losing the baby qualities, and her speech and activities are more mature than I expected them to be this soon. Still two and a half, mind you, so there are plenty of age-indicative behaviors, but I see a little woman where I used to see my little baby girl. I try to not be too saddened by my observations, because this is how it goes. I’m just cherishing every hug, and every silly gibberish sentence she offers. And I can tell that I’ll need to begin canvasing the parents I know to begin learning how to deal with the maternal feelings pulsing through me. How do I nurture and let go at the same time? 

Simplicity is also a word hanging in the air around here. How can we simplify? Our time and space so easily becomes cluttered with unnecessary things, and I am certain there is a way to live that not every moment is spent in a panic, or up to my elbows in the same mess I’ve already cleaned up several times in the same day. I find myself secretly resenting certain toys that, though they bring much joy to my children, bring me such a headache…a part of motherhood I heard tales about long before I started on this journey myself.

And of course, we’re about to begin a new year in a few days, so you can imagine I am reflecting, resolving, and dreaming about the months to come. I think I may have to discipline myself to write about the aforementioned list before things are all new, and the circumstances of these past weeks are of less consequence to me. I really wish I could hold on to the things that move my heart…but I forget so easily.

Anyway, I think I have effectively pushed ‘play’ for myself, so I can get on with it. Promise to be back soon.