Sharon McKeeman Blog » Blog

Masthead header

I photographed my friends’ family awhile back. As I drove home the light was golden and I was excited to get to the beach and capture it washing over them. The beach had other plans though and the fog rolled in unannounced. Stepping out onto the sand we ventured into a world wrapped soft in white. I tried to snap a few shots with a decent ISO that they could use for family portraits. Then the light beat a rapid retreat into sublime anonymity. My camera searched and found only soft suggestions of their form and shape, spots of color floating in the wilderness of wonder. I didn’t really look at the pictures much when I got home, afraid I had failed her. Finally I took them out this week, all covered in haze . . . I edited the few sharp ones and then I gave in, embraced their beauty, stepped into the fog and was overcome . . . I could never have created these, now my favorites, the blurry ones, piled layer upon layer of mystery, saying those things I can not say . . . in them I see me, and the dark, the light, clinging to a family and resting in the love, motherhood all wrapped round the edges with mystery  . . .

Thank you to my friend, her family and the fog.

If I were to utter those words, it would be a lack of gratitude and still I whisper them inside. I would… if only… one more thing…

She beams and gushes, stumbling over the words, tucking greying whisps beneath her veil. “I would be SO grateful, if they, for them, to find, jobs, here, America.”  She tells of school now and a hard life then. Iraq, she says, does not have what we do. “No jobs. Not school.”

She can’t believe I will take her picture. “For free? For me? How do I look?” she asks. Beautiful I tell her, so beautiful. She blushes and apologizes for teeth and veils, tries to explain dentists and traditions with gestures and words few between.

How can I tell her how beautiful her smile is, how much her beauty has blessed me. Beauty full of hope after years of hardship – what could be more ravishing? Gratitude expressed for what might be  – I hope with her and am taught by her . . .

This post is part of my We the Grateful Photo Project.

He is come. and so quickly I forget.

How does life ever get mundane, how do the  fears, doubt and strife intrude ugly again after that night? The eve of lights and magic so thick you can embrace it, holding us all around in wonder. But they do, they come a torrent with the days marching on in the new year hoping for more.

Again I forget – He came in ugliness and squalor, soon to be running, evil hot on their heels. He came to live IN THIS world. He came to die. I snatch up my life, my comforts, like brightly colored packages. A child crying after too much sugar and too good of a time.

But that one night we slip into mystery and time stands still and we Remember.   He comes.   He comes into our mess unafraid.   He dawns new every morning.   He sweeps away the dirt and breaks through the rock and stretches out his hand with a whisper and . . .

waits.   always waits.   for us.   He beckons, we must come – lay aside the mess and come.   Light the candles, bow our hearts, reach out our hands, and Come to His grace. Every moment a new choice to draw near or pull away.   and yet He holds us close, strong weathered hand of a grandfather on his child’s shoulder, every star in the universe encircling our waist.

We lay it all down and welcome Him. Oh God let me live in light of this night.

Remind me the truth that it’s never too late for Christmas Eve.

and amidst the sacred Christmas story read, there’s Jello, Jimmy Stewart, stockings filled and cookies left  . . .

and it was to all a VERY good night!

12-24-11 . 85mm

« Older posts Newer posts »