  
I couldn’t get the photos off my phone or find the right words . . .
It’s been two years and almost two weeks. Your birthday, I can’t sort it out.
Picnic breakfast on the beach, alone with three kids, miss the first church service, find myself late again running to the last service, running children’s hands grasped in mine, like my life depends on it, into the middle of worship, communion, don’t care who sees me cry, just want to let go the balloons, party store is out of helium. of course. flower shops aren’t open on Sunday. of course. balloons from a used car lot? giant balloons from a kind salesman, birthday party for my kids’ friend, just hold it together, home to make mac n cheese and smores in the micro, tell him about my day, the phone a poor excuse for being together today, out the door to the beach, the sun’s setting half an hour earlier than my phone said it would, why can’t I get it together? drop the food, grab balloons and kids and run again, towards the orb slipping away, run with balloons held high and let them float away, it’s always hard this letting go, we throw two rocks into the sea, God meets us here,
the tide rushes out and a mirror of wet sand is left beneath our feet. I didn’t know what I needed today, but He knew. I needed to see my boys playing in heaven. The sunset blazes breathtaking across the sky, mirrored perfectly under their feet. They run in the clouds and I soak in the sight. We walk back up the sand, sit and eat our dinner as we watch the last glimmers fade until all is dark.
You are always in my heart, my Joshua but I must run and grab hold of heaven for I can see but a fleeting glimpse here. Not full and consuming as you dwell in it but easily broken, easily overlooked. I am reminded today that I must drop it all and run, little hands in mine, run to worship, run to sunsets and sea. And sometimes I must just sit still and watch the rhythm, watch it fade. Because all must fade before we rise again.
I remember now the only words I can say, the words that are enough, that speak through all the noise . . .
I love you Joshua Dash
I love you
my golden boy running
I love you
I went on a photo walk with some friends in September. It was nice to connect with others who are passionate about learning this art form we call photography. I hate feeling like I am creating in a vacuum, and I miss my friends from other stops along our journey who I have created with. It’s always special for me to find some one whose thoughts and conversation hover where mine do, always coming back to crafting, making, capturing. I will confess I have a hard time with small talk. To be honest, I am obsessed. I am unsure what is important other than images, texture, bits of light and overwhelming beauty. I geek out on Derwent pencils and L glass, but I don’t understand vampires. I am distracted to the point of outright staring at people who wear their personalities in their hair, tattoos, skirts, or boots, but I have no clue who was in “People” this month.
So anyway back to our photo walk. I am sure I talked way to much about aperture, composition and light, but I enjoyed myself thoroughly. We walked through green and succulents, along dirt paths, amidst birds and bees. Following bitty dancing steps, kneeling before sticky hands holding donuts we snapped and I was happy. Happy in a slightly different but no better way than I am with my boys.
Happy also to be amidst the trees and what a pleasant surprise it was to edit these photos and realize they are literally enveloped in green. I was sprouted and grew among the trees, they were indeed my first friends. (Come to think of it, maybe that is why I struggle to share similar interests with other human beings?) I would crawl up into bark covered laps, nestled in a crook of their arm and read for days. Blankets and picnics were spread beneath majestic maples, oaks, walnuts, their height and grandeur commanding reverence. There I felt safe, with them I knew I had a place. Dusky twilight walks showed forth fairy homes in every gnarled branch and overgrown bush, and I was smitten.
I grew up and moved on, following a man. Living amongst scraggly halfhearted pine trees in a military town where no one takes root I knew my heart could never be whole. I tried to enjoy mild winters and see God’s blessings but stifling summers would come and I would yearn for the green. Now amidst beauty unimaginable, nestled between hills, dazzled by color, rocked in the rhythm of the sea, I am ravished. Still though I walk the sand, plunge into the waves, stand awed by all I see, still I return to the trees. I trod a trail to dappled sunlight and slip into the quiet embrace of branches and leaves. Life growing up from this good earth, rooted in place, showering down a banner of leaves. My friends, the trees.
(I hope I wasn’t too introspective or dear me – narcissistic, but there is a bit about me. Maybe if you feel at all the same you will be encouraged to know there are other strange souls out there.)
My boys call them “foots”. I don’t correct – feet.
They will learn soon enough. When the world tells them they are for trudging instead of dancing, skipping, hopping, dashing. So I teach a lesson on Plurals and Possessives, and I treasure hearing “foots”. They will learn soon enough.
And he, my precious tiny one. New, innocent and naive they come all over again. The beginning again so certain but so fleeting. His feet are already holding him steady, stepping across new worlds of carpet. We teach them – I long just to touch them. To hold their feet forever, to always have a hand to grasp, little head bobbing along below. I want them to grow and learn but I hate that there will be a day when they no longer need me to hold them up, carry them along . . .
Precious, precious foots begin their walk in this life. I am too lacking to show them the way. He will have to lead us, to give us a path for our steps.
My steps have held to your paths; my feet have not slipped. Psalm 17:5
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; He enables me to stand on the heights. Psalm 18:33
My eyes are ever on the Lord for only He will release my feet from the snare. Psalm 25:15
My feet stand on level ground; in the great assembly I will praise the Lord.
You have not handed me over to the enemy, but have set my feet in a spacious place. Psalm 31:8
The law of God is in his heart, his feet do not slip. Psalm 37:31
He has preserved our lives and kept our feet from slipping. Psalm 66:9
Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light for my path. Psalm 119:105
For you O Lord have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling. Psalm 116:8
9-18-10 . 24-70 . bedroom window light
I don’t know what possessed me.
I felt absolutely compelled to put my baby in a basket.
I actually felt guilty that I didn’t have the time and energy to put him in more baskets. Crazy, but hey I just had a baby.
It is interesting to see how my aesthetic has changed. Now I think I would just take pictures of him on our bed, in our arms . . . you know normal places where he actually hangs out.
Still I think some of them turned out ok. I might be tad biased, what with being head over heals for my incredibly adorable baby man. He looks good in pretty much anything, what with his extreme handsomeness and all.
Disclaimer : No offense whatsoever meant towards those who think pictures of babies in baskets are awesome! I’m just saying I’m not really into it . . . but I did it anyway . . . yeah confusing, I know.
9-18-10
I think pure peace is your baby asleep on your chest. I never knew how much I wanted or needed this, I don’t deserve it. So. Very. Grateful. You may be bigger now baby man but you snuggle just as well!
9-17-10 . 24-70
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Jesse - Joshua I’ll see you soon, we both will. Can not wait to look at you with perfect eyes. Can not wait to feel you with perfect skin. Can not wait to run with you and your perfect legs.
We long for you and miss you. You know better. We can’t. But we’ll try….until we see you and Him. Then we’ll know.
Thank you smuv. I needed that…..I need you. I would be so lost if He hadn’t given you to me. You keep my eyes and heart always point in the direction of sunsets and surf. Love you. Thank you for all our boys.
admin - I love you Smuv – thank YOU for our boys!