Some of my regular readers may have noticed that I haven’t
blogged much recently. The holidays were a bit overwhelming this year, for some
reason. Perhaps it’s because I’m homeschooling for the first time; perhaps it’s
the stress of having an unemployed husband at home; perhaps it’s just the “ebb”
phase of the normal ebb and flow of creativity. Whatever the reason, it’s well past
time for me to get my act together and write. About something. Anything.
I’ve always found that the most difficult part of writing,
for me, is coming up with a subject. Once I have a topic, I can nearly always
find something to say about it. (Sometimes it’s even an interesting something!) My writing ebbs are nearly always due to a lack of inspiration of subject
rather than an inability to get the words I want onto paper (or, to be more
technically accurate, onto screen). For that reason, breaking through my
personal kind of writers’ block is best solved by finding a list of topics and
forcing myself to attack one every single day.
You know what that means, don’t you? If you’re a regular
reader, I bet you do: It’s Photo a Day time! For those of you unfamiliar with
the Photo a Day challenge, the one I prefer to use is posted monthly by an
Australian mom who blogs under the (fabulous) name of FatMumSlim. I’m not sure how
long she’s been publishing Photo a Day lists, but I’ve been using them
periodically for a number of years. Here’s the January 2016 list of subjects:
1 – Black + white
2 – What I did today
3 – Water
4 – Circle
5 – Leaves
6 – Something blue
7 – Reading
8 – Landscape
9 - Shoes
10 – Lucky
11 – Outdoors
12 – Something I wore
13 – Three of a kind
14 – Close-up
15 – Mail
16 – Chair
17 – Faceless
18 – White
19 – In the hand
20 – Patterns
21 – Morning
22 – Night
23 – Play
24 – Window
25 – Numbers
26 – Simplicity
27 – Telephone
28 – Smile
29 – Home
30 – Flat lay
31 – Me
2 – What I did today
3 – Water
4 – Circle
5 – Leaves
6 – Something blue
7 – Reading
8 – Landscape
9 - Shoes
10 – Lucky
11 – Outdoors
12 – Something I wore
13 – Three of a kind
14 – Close-up
15 – Mail
16 – Chair
17 – Faceless
18 – White
19 – In the hand
20 – Patterns
21 – Morning
22 – Night
23 – Play
24 – Window
25 – Numbers
26 – Simplicity
27 – Telephone
28 – Smile
29 – Home
30 – Flat lay
31 – Me
I’m not a great photographer by any means, so the point is
not so much the photograph itself, but rather the explanation or the discussion
of it. I try to find images that relate to my life, or my ideas about the
concept, or memories that come to mind when I see a particular image.
Obviously, since I’m starting this on the 6th day
of the month, I have a few images to catch up with. So today I’m combining the
first 6 images into one discussion. In fact, I’m going to attempt to work them
all into a single concept, so stay with me here.
1 – Black + White
2 – What I Did Today
3 – Water
4 – Circle
5 – Leaves
6 – Something Blue
What could these six disparate photographs possibly have in
common (other than that they were all taken inside my house)? How could I
possibly pull all these images into a single concept?
It’s actually a lot easier than you might think. My life,
like that of many other mothers of young children, particularly those of us who
don’t work outside the home, revolves around my children. And all of these
images evoke something about my daily life as a stay-at-home mom, some aspect of how I see my role as a parent.
The image of the angel and the star of Bethlehem reminds me
that I am not alone in the daunting task of watching over my children. I
believe that God and His angels are constantly guarding my children, and
guiding me as I watch over them. There is a shadow behind the angel, as there
are always shadows of fear and danger in my children’s lives. My daughter
nearly lost her life at age 2, and I will always see that shadow over her head.
But I will also always see the angel that is between her and that shadow. And just
as God sent a warning to those who followed that star, which protected the
Child who was born under it from harm, I know that God will help me to protect
my children from harm.
The second image, “What I Did Today,” is a perfect illustration
of the end of my average day. I collapse, exhausted, onto the stained carpet,
surrounded by a wardrobe’s worth of discarded clothing and broken furniture.
But the destruction is a sign of great fun, much hilarity and lack of
inhibition, creative play, crazy games, and love and laughter and learning. It may require
some work to get everything back the way it was, but every minute of memory is worth
it.
The water is symbolic of how quickly the time passes in my
life. For good or for ill, the water splashes down in beautiful patterns, but
it doesn’t linger. It vanishes down the drain so quickly that the beauty is a
memory before it even registers. That’s what days are like with my
children: I get caught up in the swirl and have to force myself to take the time to see the
beauty in each moment before it disappears.
The circle is also symbolic; in this case, symbolic of the
circle of life. My children are the age I was at my own earliest memories. The
interactions and discussions I have with them are the same ones I remember
having with my own mother. And I remember my mother talking about having them
with her mother. My children remind me that I am a link in a chain of motherhood
that goes back to the beginning of humanity, and that will extend forward for many generations to come. It is a thought that is at once humbling and exalting.
Photo 5, the leaves, remind me of the care that children
need. This poinsettia has been somewhat finicky. Its leaves wilt, begging for
water, but when I give it that water, it overflows. I often need to ignore its
pleas and give it only what I know it needs, not what it dramatically begs for.
Like my children, what it thinks it
needs is not always what it actually needs. I need to balance my compassion with my
wisdom, and trust that I know its needs better than it does itself. I need to offer tough love,
and when I do, the result is invariably healthy growth.
And finally, my “Something Blue” is the uniform of one of
the Nutcracker soldiers marching across my mantel. Like the angel, he stands guard,
proud, prepared, and ready to sacrifice his own life for those he has been
charged with protecting. I am a soldier – no, I am a warrior – for my children. I will teach them, I will protect them,
and I will give my life for them.
This is my motherhood: angels, joy amidst destruction,
transient beauty, a link in a chain, trusting my own wisdom and instincts, and
protecting what is most precious to me.
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