Chasing echos...
Pictures. Echos of glorious melodies that were here for a moment. When the perfect lighting harmonizes with the priceless expression of a mischievous 3 year old. When the backdrop of our lives call for us to capture the moment.
I've been obsessed with pictures, especially since becoming a mom. The perfectly wrapped presents under the tree must compliment the 'Baby's first Christmas' pajamas.
The outfits must blend without matching too much. The family picture must be taken during the peak of the 'fall foliage'. Don't make foot prints in the snow yet! I haven't gotten the perfect picture. Let me get the camera! Of course Evangeline's first spoonful of homemade baby food must be fully documented.
A picture. A moment frozen in time. A memory to cherish... to be grateful for.
The perfect picture. Baby's first Christmas... pink ribbons tied just so. Well... if you know my 'firstborn daughter' at all... you would know that's not quite how the picture turned out. Just before I started snapping away that very first Christmas morning... she toppled over and hit her head on the hearth. And so it goes... Perfect outfit. Perfect bows. Perfect hematoma on the forehead. AGH... as a new mom, I learned a small lesson in relinquishing a bit of my illusion of control that day. It seems so silly now... but to me, it was a big deal at the time.
Almost picture perfect. But a great memory.
Two months later... our computer crashed... and all of my pictures of my precious daughter were lost. Gone. Another lesson learned as a new mom... the illusion that I somehow control all things, slips a little further from the grasp of my white knuckles.
So now, not only do I obsess about pictures... (not just pictures... but perfect pictures) ...but now I'm obsessed with saving and storing these perfect pictures. I don't mean to be petty. I know that there are a million worse things in the world than losing your pictures. But, if I'm being completely honest, this idea of losing pictures... precious memories of my dear children, haunts me. Seriously, every holiday comes with the major anxiety of... 'do I have enough room on my memory cards?' ... 'have I properly stored everything before deleting the card?' ... 'is my camera charged?' ... reasonable thoughts and concerns.
But like most 'reasonable thoughts'... once rattled around in an anxious mind... they can become quite unreasonable. Reasonable turns into expectations. Expectations to entitlement... and before you know it, your grasping too tightly to 'the way I want things to be'. The way things need to be. Perfection. Control...
When you only have one child... the illusion of control is almost tangible. I'm not saying it isn't difficult... but it's not really an 'out of control' situation. We have time to charge the camera. Store the pictures... and mount the 'perfect pictures' on extra-large canvases all over our walls.
Baby number 2 comes along. My white knuckles grow sore. I try to 'take just as many pictures of little Elliot'... but who's kidding who? With a defiant toddler and a colicky little boy... I snapped pictures when I could. My controlling grip of perfection loosened a bit as I released anxious thoughts and pestering guilt of missing more and more photo opportunities.
Umm... he's starving... and I'm about to feed him his first spoonful of baby food. Where's my camera? I forgot to charge it! I make 'daddy' take a picture on his iphone. AGH... it's awful of me and blurry of the baby.
My white knuckles weaken and give up a bit. That beautiful illusion of control dissipates a bit before my eyes.
Along comes baby number 3... I feel the illusion of control rushing through my hands like sand in an hour glass. I still try to grip... my knuckles cramped and sore from holding on to something for so long. It's time to give Adeline her first spoonful of baby food. I frantically look around for the camera. I can't find it... she's growing impatient. I give up. Give up this small, insignificant battle. The grasp for perfection. My idea of perfection. I've held onto it for so long. My hands have grown tired.
I sit down to feed sweet Adeline. No company. No cameras. No facebook updates. Just me... and this precious gift that the Lord has placed in my life. I breathe a sigh of relief... and just listen to the melody of this simple moment. Her expressions were priceless... they are captured in my heart. Sweet potatoes everywhere... somehow they even managed to get in between her pudgy little toes. Her gummy little smile lights up her face as she spits and sputters.
It's like the best movie in the world was playing just for me... made just for me... and instead of trying to fill it with my own efforts, hoarding memories... I was free. Free to relax. Free to enjoy. Free to worship the Lord for this beautiful gift... free to enjoy the live performance.
Without relying on my own attempts to capture the moment or grasping for perfection, my hands were empty. Empty to receive a gift that I couldn't have when my hands were gripping my idea of perfection.
Could it be that there is something out there that blows away our ideas of perfection? Something more perfect? Beautiful melodies that were simply meant to be enjoyed in the moment. Giggles and messes that the Lord is giving us a front row seat to.
Pictures are wonderful... an amazing gift, but I'm learning that sometimes as we view through a lens... we are missing the big picture. Our days are filled with glorious yet fleeting moments... small gifts from our Heavenly Father...
... moments to savor... to drink in the melodies of his goodness, instead of chasing echos.
I've been obsessed with pictures, especially since becoming a mom. The perfectly wrapped presents under the tree must compliment the 'Baby's first Christmas' pajamas.
The outfits must blend without matching too much. The family picture must be taken during the peak of the 'fall foliage'. Don't make foot prints in the snow yet! I haven't gotten the perfect picture. Let me get the camera! Of course Evangeline's first spoonful of homemade baby food must be fully documented.
A picture. A moment frozen in time. A memory to cherish... to be grateful for.
The perfect picture. Baby's first Christmas... pink ribbons tied just so. Well... if you know my 'firstborn daughter' at all... you would know that's not quite how the picture turned out. Just before I started snapping away that very first Christmas morning... she toppled over and hit her head on the hearth. And so it goes... Perfect outfit. Perfect bows. Perfect hematoma on the forehead. AGH... as a new mom, I learned a small lesson in relinquishing a bit of my illusion of control that day. It seems so silly now... but to me, it was a big deal at the time.
Almost picture perfect. But a great memory.
Two months later... our computer crashed... and all of my pictures of my precious daughter were lost. Gone. Another lesson learned as a new mom... the illusion that I somehow control all things, slips a little further from the grasp of my white knuckles.
So now, not only do I obsess about pictures... (not just pictures... but perfect pictures) ...but now I'm obsessed with saving and storing these perfect pictures. I don't mean to be petty. I know that there are a million worse things in the world than losing your pictures. But, if I'm being completely honest, this idea of losing pictures... precious memories of my dear children, haunts me. Seriously, every holiday comes with the major anxiety of... 'do I have enough room on my memory cards?' ... 'have I properly stored everything before deleting the card?' ... 'is my camera charged?' ... reasonable thoughts and concerns.
But like most 'reasonable thoughts'... once rattled around in an anxious mind... they can become quite unreasonable. Reasonable turns into expectations. Expectations to entitlement... and before you know it, your grasping too tightly to 'the way I want things to be'. The way things need to be. Perfection. Control...
When you only have one child... the illusion of control is almost tangible. I'm not saying it isn't difficult... but it's not really an 'out of control' situation. We have time to charge the camera. Store the pictures... and mount the 'perfect pictures' on extra-large canvases all over our walls.
Baby number 2 comes along. My white knuckles grow sore. I try to 'take just as many pictures of little Elliot'... but who's kidding who? With a defiant toddler and a colicky little boy... I snapped pictures when I could. My controlling grip of perfection loosened a bit as I released anxious thoughts and pestering guilt of missing more and more photo opportunities.
Umm... he's starving... and I'm about to feed him his first spoonful of baby food. Where's my camera? I forgot to charge it! I make 'daddy' take a picture on his iphone. AGH... it's awful of me and blurry of the baby.
My white knuckles weaken and give up a bit. That beautiful illusion of control dissipates a bit before my eyes.
Along comes baby number 3... I feel the illusion of control rushing through my hands like sand in an hour glass. I still try to grip... my knuckles cramped and sore from holding on to something for so long. It's time to give Adeline her first spoonful of baby food. I frantically look around for the camera. I can't find it... she's growing impatient. I give up. Give up this small, insignificant battle. The grasp for perfection. My idea of perfection. I've held onto it for so long. My hands have grown tired.
I sit down to feed sweet Adeline. No company. No cameras. No facebook updates. Just me... and this precious gift that the Lord has placed in my life. I breathe a sigh of relief... and just listen to the melody of this simple moment. Her expressions were priceless... they are captured in my heart. Sweet potatoes everywhere... somehow they even managed to get in between her pudgy little toes. Her gummy little smile lights up her face as she spits and sputters.
It's like the best movie in the world was playing just for me... made just for me... and instead of trying to fill it with my own efforts, hoarding memories... I was free. Free to relax. Free to enjoy. Free to worship the Lord for this beautiful gift... free to enjoy the live performance.
Without relying on my own attempts to capture the moment or grasping for perfection, my hands were empty. Empty to receive a gift that I couldn't have when my hands were gripping my idea of perfection.
Could it be that there is something out there that blows away our ideas of perfection? Something more perfect? Beautiful melodies that were simply meant to be enjoyed in the moment. Giggles and messes that the Lord is giving us a front row seat to.
Pictures are wonderful... an amazing gift, but I'm learning that sometimes as we view through a lens... we are missing the big picture. Our days are filled with glorious yet fleeting moments... small gifts from our Heavenly Father...
... moments to savor... to drink in the melodies of his goodness, instead of chasing echos.
Comments
No batteries. Not enough lighting. No camera.
I'm glad you got to enjoy your "birdie" eating her first bite.
Enjoy each moment. I promise when Adeline is older she won't say, "So Mom I was cataloging pictures and realized there is no first bite of solid food moment." She will remember how much you loved her though.
Sometimes I wish I could hold these reminders in my head all the time. Control is such an elusive illusion. And yet, I forget and keep trying to make it happen again.
I love you friend. Am proud of you.
JL