Many days I’m blind. Hands placed decidedly across my eyes or hiding behind a wall, to timid to peek out. Some days just too dead tired to lift my head and look.
But the story is still there, revealed by each artist, shared by His body – wether I choose to witness or not. To see takes cutting through all the noise, stepping purposeful and looking what is important square in the face.
Strength comes from seeing his body sharing the same struggles, being nudged toward the same goals – longings, dreams and wisdom mingle online. I don’t know if it’s because we hear each other, wake to a thought and echo our own – or if it’s because He is leading us in similar seasons as a whole. Maybe both are intertwined, maybe He uses our words and images to speak to each other.
This week at worship the world overwhelms and I keep my lips shut tight, eyes clouded with tears. Come home in the dark to the man I love and see more clearly in His arms. Us silly kids, friends, lovers battle scared and road weary – one body we are, laying down our defenses, showing eachother the way back to being beloved.
And then the week starts frantic, nose to the grindstone makes it hard to see straight. He comes home, tells me I’m doing the right thing, just don’t give up. Calms my heart enough to hear a familiar voice that I have never met speak truth, beautiful radiant truth into my harried mess. I read and I see more clearly. A friend’s text and I know I’m not alone in being hard pressed. An email and I’m sharing past pain in order to give hope. I remember all the body giving each other sight, strengthening our arms for His work. A family who I know only from their words and images ringing true – remind me I’m not alone in the hard task and blessing of growing new life. They share my longing for space and wonder where to call home and inspire with their contentment in all seasons. A musician‘s iPhone photos open my eyes again to all the exploration and beauty that I forget in the day to day. Another family inspiring with their nonstop adventures overflowing with laughter, taking time to teach me how to capture my own moments. Mothers laying out Bibles and scooping up light spilled on children. A daughter and mother crafting loveliness locally and spilling joy on everyone they meet. I could go on and on . . . His body broken for each other, sharing our scars and feeding each other with beauty and hope. It only takes a shred of courage to open my eyes a bit, just a peek around the corner with a faithful gaze to recognize His handiwork, to see His church amidst the fury of this world. And it takes a moment to slow down, to tear my gaze away from the whirling chaos that demands my attention, to hear and see Him speak through story, through art and through each other’s lives.
The photos above are from this session I shot of my friend and her boys recently. I didn’t ask them to pose like this, these images just came from them exploring interacting with the camera. Children are so raw and real, they seem to know it’s all about seeing – or not. I envy the honesty they know to look with, that honesty we forget as we “mature”.