Remember When...

Even my aging brain can remember when this picture was added to our photo collection... I took it Sunday evening, just a day and a half ago.

As a photographer, I have lots of portraits of the kids and I cherish the memories of the sittings and the images I've captured. What I'm lacking, however, is snapshots. Even this picture is a bit posed though if I kept my camera strapped to my waist like a cowboy has his pistol, I suppose I could have gotten the same shot spontaneously.

Last week, I attended a Celebration of Life service (the in vogue phrase for a funeral.) After all the words were said, a slide show began. They probably displayed about a hundred photos of this wonderful, inspiring woman of God enjoying life with those she loved. It was a beautiful testimony of who she was... far better than all the words spoken and hymns sung.

I guess I've always loved pictures. When I reminisce, it's often like a mental scrapbook that includes duplicates of snapshots in my parent's albums. A visit to any one's home equates to an opportunity for me to learn more of about the person's spirit by looking at the pictures on display.

My daughter babysat over the weekend and one of the kids used her cell phone to take a zillion shots that my daughter was deleting rapidly. I quickly offered to complete the job as I wanted to see what the girl had found worthy to photograph and I strained to see the detail of the almost undecipherable shots on what I think is a quarter inch screen.

Pictures, especially snapshots, are our biography. Our lives may never play out on the big screen (except perhaps when they one day, hopefully, "celebrate our life") but the images we capture through the years are our memories in print. I hope I make the effort to capture and share a lot more of the living in our home especially for those who I so wish we could take more pictures with.

It's My Responsibility

I don't feel "down" often and when I do get a case of the "blues", it's always short lived. Perhaps it's because the cause and the solution are likely the same. In my world, I have an incredible sense of "responsibility."

I feel responsible for not only raising my children but for their actions, attitudes and most every word that they utter. Their education is my responsibility as is their choice of friends, clothes and toothpaste.

The home is my responsibility. Is it neat, clean and tidy? Are the finances in order with statements all filed properly (my mom is so wonderful at this her records date back for an eternity with every receipt attached in chronological order to each corresponding statement.) Laundry done? (did you know that small children can actually use a pile of dirty clothes as a ladder to change light bulbs?) Menus planned AND carried out? (We nearly starved until WalMart opened near us making last minute grocery runs possible.)

My photography business is, of course, my responsibility. That includes far more than requesting subjects to "say cheese" and pushing a button. I even have to be responsible for determining who among the children is most deserving of the lollipop that comes with the lab orders. (Funny, my five year old who was worried that I might be too lonely has joined me here at 6 AM on a Saturday morning and just asked if I'd like to "start the day off with a little candy" so obviously the lollipop distribution is a BIG deal.)

Taking care of myself is logically my responsibility. (It seems that responsibility is growing as my "drug of choice" is chocolate.) And, I feel responsible for my husband's health as well.

All this responsibility can be quite the load to carry and at some moments I mentally rebel. Like my kids, I shout "it's not fair!" (Can a person shout inside their own mind? I say yes.) And, I pout. But then, I feel responsible again and tell this person that is me that all my "responsibilities" are also my treasures, my reasons to smile, laugh and love - my opportunities to shine, feel important, learn and grow. (no, I'm not headed for the chocolate - I'm feeling far too responsible.)

The Hope of an Introduction

This week I met up with another I know on the journey of loving a teenager through what I believe is the most precarious time in life. As we talked and shared our concerns for our daughters who often seem to be in total denial of the traps and snares of this world, I was forced to realize again that our children cannot forever live on the faith held by their parents.

We meet lots and lots of people through life, but only a very small number of those introductions lead to real relationships. Perhaps the same can be said of Jesus Christ - many people are introduced to the Savior but the majority will never find themselves true friends with Jesus.

I can know a lot about someone and not have a relationship - take famous and historical figures for example. And, I can serve a person dutifully and not have a relationship - a boss or two from days gone by comes to mind. Instead, a relationship is a matter of the heart.

As a Christian parent, it is our privilege to introduce our children to Jesus. Like the master of ceremonies, we can and should present His merits, quote His word, speak of His character, and encourage them to listen to His voice.

My challenge, however, is to then allow the Lord to speak for Himself. It's a lack of trust, really, as I fear my teens will not listen attentively... as though the God of the universe in incapable of commanding their attention. I worry that my teens will not be compelled by my introduction (that has been uttered and reiterated for years) to desire a relationship with the One I know to be the Way, the Truth and the Life... as though I have the power to make this or any introduction lead to a life long companionship.

It's little consolation to me, the control freak... that my children's faith in Christ and relationship with the Lord is not something I can orchestrate. Perhaps it's not just about them, however. It may also be my God teaching me to have a greater faith in His love for my children and trusting that the One who spoke our world into existence can hold an audience, create a following and invite my children to build an everlasting relationship with Him that makes my "introduction" seem almost insignificant.

New Perspectives

My friend phoned me the other day. She's one of those incredible women that remains in the "best of friends" category though we rarely phone, e-mail or see each other (we live a multitude of miles apart). She excitedly reported about her discovery of blogging.

With seven children, a photography business and a house to run, I immediately declared the time simply doesn't exist in my world for journaling about my life. In my mind, I also reasoned, "who would want to read it anyway."

Yesterday, I pulled up that friend's blog just to see what she had written. It took me until this morning to piece together the spare seconds and catch up on the entries she's made since she phoned. Intrigued and perhaps a bit jealous of her new method of communicating - I found myself concocting reasons why a I should reconsider and begin a blog of my own...

My dad's on the computer frequently... maybe he'd like to read some of my thoughts. Hey, Mom... we don't get to talk as much as I'd like... maybe you'd like to read the ramblings of your daughter. In any case, it'll be a fun outlet for the thoughts I like to believe are inspired.