"The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit." (Jn. 3:8)
The sun forces a break in post-processing this morning, streaming in, offering a chance to breathe from the frenetic (and at times frustrating) "on to the next one," "it is what it is" that is the truth of what comes out of my camera sometimes before I retouch my images. The brightness conceals both error and edit, inviting me to notice what is beyond my computer screen. There is life on the other side, and it helps to remember.
The windows are open today. I can breathe the air; it is bluer than the thick humid yellow we've avoided all summer. There is that lovely breeze I felt last spring... It is the sort of day that makes me think, "No, I don't need a bigger house with smaller windows. I'll stay here in the small and watch the light."
Piper woke this morning where she fell asleep, wanting to watch "Duh-bo," to cuddle with Mama and Daddy on the couch. When the movie finished, she collected her block box from her room and padded into the kitchen where I was working.
"Good morning, Mama! Blocks!"
She dumped them in the pile of light in front of the refrigerator. She likes to play in the bright spots. I remember that I did too.
I'm cataloging beauty, in spite of my discouragement over low lighting and blurry, grainy story-pictures.
I don't want to stop taking pictures. The hope is always there that I'll get to be that photographer, shoot that one wedding, capture that one look, record that one girl in a white dress so that she'll lose her breath looking at herself. I want to capture wind capping waves, brushing through trees, jeweling hair in sun. I'm still searching out beauty, still composing, changing my rules, adapting, becoming.
This is only my today; I haven't seen tomorrow. It is the way of the Spirit, alive in the waiting, working ever in the Father's time, comforting, convicting, teaching, revealing God-heart to dust.
I tell myself again as the sun slips behind shade and I go back to work that it is only a few years before they will be grown enough to be busy in their own right. I won't be a baby-toddler mom forever. Now is not the time to give up the dream. It is my time to learn to see again. To shoot from my heart again. To be a beginner whose new-wings won't be clipped too soon.
Who can see the wind, anyway?
Check out yesterday's third post in my authentic relationship series, Nothing Hidden - The Breaking, continuing my story of the reality of God's grace for relationship. "If I’d known how hard it would be for us, I would never have married Pete..."
"Within the next month, what do you think about planning a night to spend with your sisters? ...We’re having our own Sister Parties! What about you? Want to giggle, eat, cry, whatever, and then maybe afterward join us for a little blog party?"
(Image © Informal Moments Photography - print available here)