At Day's End

On August Break.

Say cheese!

On August Break.

Breakfast, Cafe

On August Break.

At the Pier

This week, I'm on August Break.

Nosy Little Neighbor

I'm on August Break.

Thankful For

It's a rainy afternoon and I am sitting on the couch, book in hand. Lily looks at me and says, "I'm Lily!" I shoot Adam a smile and tell her, "Yes, you are."

I start turning pages and she climbs up into my lap with a book she frequently pulls off the bookshelf. I tell her, "Read your book and I'll read mine," and we sit together reading. I read about gratitude and joy; she points to Roman numerals and makes stories of her own.

She climbs down and I look up from my book to see her and Adam sitting at the dining room table. He is playing a game on the computer and she is coloring in a coloring book. I want to take a picture but I don't. Instead I pretend to read and listen as they chat. "What color crayon are you using?" he asks. She fervently continues coloring with the purple crayon.

I read about thankfulness and joy and grace and realize that the memory of what I am reading will be tied to this quiet family afternoon. I have much to be thankful for, but I need to dwell more in gratitude. This moment seems a good place to start.

Gratitude

One thing I forgot to mention about all this online business: gratitude.

I started reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts. As I read my mind drifted away to how this book found its way into my hands. A friend mentioned Ann's blog, A Holy Experience, and another posted about the book. Then I read the chapter Ann wrote in The Spirit of Food and finally started reading her blog. Then I read another post about the book, then another. And today I picked it up from the library.

This isn't the first book that's found its way to me like this. In fact, much of what I've read and learned over the years has been because of my little online community, those kindred spirits who seems to always offer support and kindness when it's needed. Maybe I'm being a bit overly romantic here, but it's good to have a place to return to when the world can be so harsh, a place that reminds me that His mercies really are new every morning.

I need that reminder. I am grateful for it.

I'm Still Here

Sometimes I wonder why I have a blog. Trying to make sense of where I should find my value leads me to question why I keep putting myself out there. So I wade through the doubt to find what's good. The truth is I didn't start this blog for anyone else to read. I started it because I needed a place to keep track of my daily goings-on. I needed a place to cobble together a story about the beautiful things in my life. Along the way people have read and commented. I've made some friends whose encouragement seems endless. I have grown as a writer and photographer and, most importantly, as a person. And I continue to blog just because. I would keep doing it even if no one else looked at it but me.

A friend once sent me this quote:

"Art kept only for oneself is selfish. As human beings, we don't exist in a vacuum; we exist in communities and societies that rightfully demand dues. It's not an option to give those dues; it's a duty."

This space is one of many where I share what I consider to be my art. And there is the sprinkling in of my life, which in its own messy way cannot be separate from whatever I create. What I want for my life is to reflect a small portion of the beauty of the Creator. And that is why I'm still here.

We Were at the Lake and Now We're Back

Determining My Worth

Here's something that I struggle with: my accomplishments determining my self-worth. Let me explain.

I first wanted to be a writer because I loved writing. Then I wanted to be published so I could feel validated. Then I was published and people said nice things to me, and I felt good about myself. I first wanted to be a photographer because I liked taking pictures. Then I started posting my photography on the internet and people said nice things to me, and I felt good about myself.

Then I had a baby and realized I couldn't do it all. I inflated my online identity so people would think I was still awesome, and I continued to work even though sometimes it was killing me. When I would get little or no feedback, I was crushed. I needed the recognition.

It all came to a head when I realized I couldn't keep up. Working to get accolades wasn't adding to my quality of life; it was actually detracting from it.

So I stopped. I took a break from writing, decided that I wasn't going to teach anymore, and got a small job working behind the scenes for a website. Of course, this all happened in tandem with our move. In New York, I was determined to slow down, be a stay-at-home mom, and work part-time from home. I also cut way back on my social networking, especially Facebook, which seemed to propel this need for feedback.

When I read The Spirit of Food, I would read through each writer's bio before reading his or her essay. After a while the bios all started to look the same: where the writer went to school, where the writer has been published, what the writer does for employment. These are important components to each writer's life, but when listed one after another, it all starts looking the same. I thought a lot about what my bio would look like, or what it should look like.

Today's Curator includes an essay where the writer looks closer at this idea in the context of blogs and the way the glimpse they provide into other people's lives can diminish our feelings of self-worth:

The height of my Womanhood is not measured by what I do, but who I am. The quality of my character is not measured with a yardstick, nor by the height of my tomato plants. The real fruit of life is not found in traffic numbers or tutorials, but in the qualitative depth of living in love.

It's taken me a long time to finally accept that my value as a person is steeped in my character and in God. Those things don't require anyone to give me feedback and say nice things about me; they require me to love others and accept myself. Whether I ever publish another essay or post another photograph is a separate issue, one that shouldn't determine my value or worth.