Celebrating Today

I come from the era of Photomat and disposal flashcubes. IYKYK. My mother was uncompromising in her requirement that photos would be taken at every holiday and properly labeled with names and dates. As my brother and I aged, and I ceased amputating limbs and decapitating relatives in my holiday pictures, Mom relied less on my father to handle the family photographs. But that was it. I wasn't the type to gather my friends and stage a pyramid on the beach or capture sunsets. It wasn't until I had children that I picked up the camera again. And I was relentless. Every smile, every wave was mine to capture. And every picture was precious to me. Album after album lined our shelves, preserving fleeting moments of childhood and innocence. Every once in a while, when I scour the hundreds (thousands?) of photos I have printed, on flash drives, in the cloud, or on my phone, I feel the ache in my heart, the longing to return to those days. (Days which I thought were so difficult at the time.) 

This summer, has felt, to me, like a summer of waiting. Waiting for work to pick up as it usually does in the early months of the year but hasn't seemed to even yet. Waiting for money to arrive so we can "do something cool" during our youngest's days off of school. Waiting for some sort of answer with regard to my husband's health. Waiting for the appointment I made with a new doctor months ago (only to have to reschedule because of a paperwork error). Waiting for our daughter and her husband to leave the country so that reality can begin to take hold. Yes, I am a jump straight into a frigid pool, rip that bandage right off kinda girl. Waiting for all of my efforts to serve God more obediently and more consistently to finally feel normal and comfortable instead of clumsy and difficult. Waiting for schedules to coincide so we can have those much talked about dinners with friends and family.

If we're not careful, we will spend our lives either looking back or looking forward without looking at the glory that is right before our eyes. Rather than enjoying the sunrise, we'll be anticipating breakfast. Rather than enjoying the imagination of our children, we'll be obsessing over their GPAs or their future credit scores. Rather than waiting on God, we'll be waiting on that thing or that moment. Our presence, our being present wherever we are will always be secondary to something else. So, what do we do?

Get help. Huh? I know, it might sound a little crazy, but help comes in all sorts of packages. Help might be as simple as putting on some music or as serious as joining a 12-Step program. I'm choosing the latter. All of this waiting has me in such a downward spiral of emotion, such a place of distraction; I'm trying to alter my mindset to one of being present and grateful, slowing things down and really thinking about this very moment. Find what it takes to bring you into the present, to make you fully aware of the things you are saying or the choices you are making. Find ways to be grateful --not just things to be grateful for, but ways to express your gratitude to your Creator and King. Dig deep to those places in your heart where ingratitude and pride have taken root. Fill them with confession and light. And just stop. Look at the calendar or smell the towels you're folding; listen to the laughter coming from the other room or watch the chamois soak up each drop as you drag it across the slick black paint of the hood; feel the warmth in the soft, rosy cheeks of your wriggling, teething child; taste the nothingness of fresh, cool water; determine to be present and steep yourself in the nowness you have been given. And gratitude will begin to bloom. And with that gratitude, a right perspective on all we have, all we are, and all God has called us to be. The present will become the place where you want most to be. And God will be with you there --no matter how much of your past has been lost or how much of your future seems uncertain.

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin