yeah, he knows how awesome life is
Sharon McKeeman Blog » Blog
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Monthly Archives: May 2011
and holy cow that was over a month ago and now he is a Pro at sitting up – I can’t believe it! I want to freeze the moments but at the same time it is SO fun getting to know my Jeremiah man and see who he is becoming. Shot with my 85mm on a gorgeously grey day at Panera before church.
if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! – 2 Corinthians 5:17 Spring is a becoming time. Sure proof that winter wasn’t a deathly, but a waiting time. Spring can’t be contained and it bursts forth new. An expected surprise every year bringing blooms and . . . butterflies! Butterflies have long been a favorite. Their change a hopeful promise. Message that sins and mistakes don’t define us, the crazy little caterpillar can grow wings. Always a favorite, a metaphor I had clung to but I never experienced the little miracle . . . till my boys. Bringing home caterpillars and cocoons, wide eyed to see their transformation. It never gets old to watch and wait and see the impossible happen! So of course when their aahhmazing! charter school was having a field trip to The Monarch Program we were so THERE. Hidden amidst overgrown backyards overlooking the Pacific, a little garden filled with butterflies, caterpillars and cocoons, to gently hold and learn. The children understand the magic. They inherently know this is our story, our one greatest need to be transformed. The world whispering its possibility over and over. We study the infinite ways as we explore. Another field trip to witness galaxies far flung, a satellite giving us glimpses to the edges of time. Volcanoes, oceans, little shoots of growing green, octopuses and polar bears, pyramids and our incredibly engineered bodies all give us a bit of a peek. But is there anything so blatantly creative? So full of the salvation our dark days and mundane failures cry out for? Praise God for little bits of flapping color birthed impossibly from unlikely blobs. Thank God for children’s hands to hold them and remind us of their wonder!
When the knife cuts, bones break, the world shatters, dreams disintegrate… body and mind are numb, if not from medication then from shock and adrenaline. Cradled, covered by His grace, unable to grasp the terror, unable to fully feel the pain. Muffled, you sink into the rest that is being completely out of control. In a fog of quiet brokeness there is no grasping awareness of the catastrophe or the painful road ahead. There is only the moment of survival. and then the recovery. When the sharp hot pain blazes across heart and mind, nerves wrench awake as the body heals. When those who were taking gentle care, ask you to stand, when the stitches are pulled out, the cast taken off. When the emptiness is found, pressing deep into the wound, when the denial becomes raging grief, what then? Thinking you have survived are you now succumbing? Don’t fear this awakening of pain and terror, confused thoughts flying, bitterness taking root with promises to blossom soon if not weeded out. This all is proof hard and true that there is healing. Strength is growing enough to stand and feel the weakness, feel the aftermath and see the storm that has been all the while raging. When climbing the stairs takes all your breath away and your heart beats frantic in your chest, when moving on brings hurt with every step, then you realize all you have lost and it washes over you. The questions flood – how to ever make it past this place? why now so weak, so different, despised, reeling in the throbbing ache? and when was that time where good and bad had definition, when all wasn’t one big blaming question? is there a way back? the recovery room, the rehab And then one day the scar has smoothed over, lost its jagged edge, paled in comparison to the life that is in you. but still it will wash over, hits you in the gut. When you are least expecting, reminding you of your forever wound. We each have our scars, and they remind us patience for each other. For there are those places we long to but can not tell and we stumble, our ugly limp the evidence of battles lost. Are there words for this? Silly to even try to voice all that rumbles under the surface. But those that know told me, it takes time, don’t be surprised. And still, feeling the strength to stand, you’re again surprised at the jolts of pain, the uneasy stagger. But all this a reckoning of recovery, strong enough to feel what has happened, coming out of the daze, no longer paralyzed and thankful for the days to walk again. Walk forward and learn to call the scar a friend because it breaks you to your knees before Him.
a cute little produce stand on the side of a country highway – Roadside Monument to all that is Yum, Delicious and Good! Driving through the hills, back from the Motocross track, feelin the American West, lovin the flags and bright colors, soakin in the scenery, big rocks and winding roads… The kids lost in a wonderland of wholesome sugar, a rainbow of goodness. Nourishing. Sun beating down, blue sky singing, all together, hand out the window, baby in our arms. This is it, build a monument in your mind to God’s goodness, all He provides. Stack the rocks high, never forget, walk in His light and always stop to smell the oranges! Hold the bright days in your heart and draw near to him when the shadows close in. Yes it is, His road is good. |
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He couldn’t quite sit up on his own yet when I shot this on April 3, 2011. But he Owned this chair while his family ate lunch!
