300 days of beauty, day 7

My husband snapped this picture without my knowledge as we were weaving our way through Saturday crowds in Chinatown, during our time in New York City. I liked the candid shot and I liked that my husband wanted to capture the moment. He's not a picture-taker. I have often said that if I die, they won't remember what I look like. In spite of my joking, I don't mind being the one behind the camera. I love it and I love to capture the world around me. To some it feels like clutter, to me it feels refreshing and stress-relieving. 

I don't think I realized how much it mattered to me that the people I'm with were enjoying the moments and adventure with me. Taking photos is not the only way to communicate that time spent is valuable, but for this photo, that is what it spoke to me. It was a non-verbal message to my heart that communicated, "I enjoy being here with you. This time, this moment is valuable."

The other aspect of beauty in this picture is my sweet daughter looking up at me. I don't know what she was thinking, what made her look up toward my face, but this frozen moment felt profound. She is growing up and yet still very young. While her younger sister had to be forcibly convinced to hold our hands at times, Cece would silently sidle up next to us and slip her hand into ours, just like in this snapshot. It first happened in busy Chinatown, then at night in Little Italy after polishing off an exorbitant amount of rice pudding. At other times it was maneuvering through the subway stations, walking through Times Square, through Rockefeller Center, and down Fifth Avenue.

In New York City, I never worried about her wondering off, running ahead, falling in the subway tracks, or not listening to our instructions. I wouldn't have required her to hold my hand. But in the silent action that communicates more than hundreds of words, I heard her. She needed to hold my hand. She is not the girl who asks and pushes her way into whatever she wants. She is reserved and hangs back and is often uncertain of how to approach the world around her. But she was brave enough to be the little girl that she is. She felt safe with us and safer when she held my hand or her daddy's hand.

I have three kids and three very different personalities. They are complex and beautiful and unique. I want to see them, truly see their hearts. I want to hear them, whether they communicate with words or non-verbal gestures. I was surprised at first when she took my hand. I was touched and thankful that she did not feel above it. I'm treasure the memory it imprinted on my heart. And I'm thankful that I could hear her, without a single word.

300 days of beauty, day 6

My brother and I took a long Christmas day walk down memory lane. We covered near every inch of our childhood neighborhood, recalling neighbors and stories and commenting about how it all looks different from our adult eyes. This picture is of our childhood backyard, our stomping grounds, literally. Officially named "the Canyon" we spent hours upon hours in this scrub-oak wonderland.

This rock was named "Smile Rock" because of face-like indentations on the front. Our pine tree we climbed so often has since died, and many of our scrub-oak caves have been removed to cut down on fire-hazards. In spite of this, it felt familiar, comforting. This Christmas day we saw countless bucks, many still sparring and a bit aggressive (we tried to not make eye contact and walk briskly past them with our two dogs who joined us on our memory pilgrimage). We avoided cactus and piles of deer poop, and we wondered if we should go pay our respects to Muffin's grave...our cocker spaniel who is buried in the Canyon. We laughed about this and were curious if the irises that were planted on top of her grave still bloomed in the spring.

The memories were pleasant, and more than that, the time with my brother was sweet as always. Of all the many beautiful gifts I have been given, my brother sits very far at the top.

300 days of beauty, day 5

I never tire of my kids' performances. When I was young, I loved to create plays and dances and skits and backyard swing-set and pool acrobatics. I have fond memories doing these with my brother and my cousin, Debi. When Debi and I would create our routines, my brother would become the "lighting and sound specialist" although I don't know that we used that term. I find it funny that my son has often performed with his sisters, but as of late, he's quite happy being the sound and light guy too.

Very soon, much sooner than I am ready, these unabashed, vibrant performances will cease. Bittersweet. Nothing lasts forever, that's just the reality. More joy and wonder on the way, the goodness is not only in these years, it continues, but looks different.

But, if your sweet child invites you to a performance, make the time. You're not too busy. These moments are so fleeting. I may have watched reenacted musical renditions of "Hard-Knock Life" from the new Annie more times than I can count, but I love it every time.

300 days of beauty, day 4

I'm a huge advocate for reading "old books," those books which have stood the test of time and live to see another printing press. Of course, Louisa May Alcott is hardly an unknown author, but for me, this was an unknown book. I didn't expect to be sucked in and stay up until three in the morning when I first read it. (I even pretended to have fallen asleep so my husband wouldn't tell me to go to bed...he just let me "sleep" in the comfy living room chair.) 

The classics are comforting to me, this book continues to be a sweet read for my soul. This time around, I had the pleasure of reading it by a toasty warm fireplace in the mountains, on a bitterly wind-whipped day. Beautifully sweet.

300 days of beauty, day 3

I took a weekend trip with a dear friend to the Glenwood Hot Springs. Crazy cool. And such a sweet time with my friend. 

In the hot springs, the steam is so thick, it feels more like Brigadoon, like we might vanish or the world around us might disappear. At night, it's eerie and wonderful and somewhat magical. We could almost believe we were in Iceland or Scandinavia, not only the atmosphere but the myriad of languages spoken around us. 

I could barely snap a picture without my hands feeling numb, dry towels turned crispy in the cold, water bottles froze and wet hair morphed into icicles. Necessity trumps style--preferred apparel includes flip-flops (concrete is crazy cold), shorts, swim-suit, winter jacket (for the locker room to poolside transfer) and a winter hat (to wear in the hot springs so you don't freeze your ears off).

It all felt exotic and was a much needed break for both of us. Even though I have posted three pictures, it was the beauty of one zero-temped winter day.

300 days of beauty~day 2

I walk under this beautiful tree outside our home every day. White blossoms in the spring, green-leafed shade in the summer, golden hues in the fall, and frosted crab apples in the winter. Set against our vivid blue, sunshined winter sky, I can overlook our below freezing temperatures and savor the artistry.

300 days of beauty

The snow is gently falling outside my window, adding inches of fluffy powder on top of inches of hard-packed snow and ice that will most likely not melt for months. In spite of the likelihood of biting it later when I go outside, it is quite beautiful. 

I'm kicking it old-school today. Cleaning my room while listening to FM radio. The station is playing "classic hits" which make me feel happy and nostalgic and old all at the same time. 

(Funny story: In Tennessee this fall, we were settling in to our townhouse. D and Cece came out of their rooms excitedly talking about their clocks that "you can turn the dial and find all sorts of music that will just play!" Yes, it was just a clock radio. And yes, we do listen to the radio in the car, but even that scans, no dial. In their techie world of CDs, mp3s, and Amazon Prime, this was new and exciting. They enjoyed synchronizing their stations. I was amused and also marveled at how they make me feel old by not even trying. It's just going to get worse...) 

Anyway...

This week was challenging. At times, my eyes that see beauty at every turn can also be so blurred by tears, that the world seems a tragic and hopeless place. Life seems more like a ticking time-bomb than brimming with unlimited joy and possibility. I start to focus horizontally on everything around me, scroll through facebook feeds, click on one too many news stories, and I'm floundering.

So I'm aiming vertical. Looking up to my Lord who sees all. My God who sees every tear I've cried and is near. I want to keep engaging with Him, keep talking, let him be the confidante that I hold most dear.

I feel very strongly that beauty can be found in each day. For me I'm striving to post 300 days of beauty. Pictures I've snapped that are beauty in my life.

Why 300? I'm realistic. I never do all that I want to do and that gives me 66 days (Leap Year!) of flexibility.

Day 1: We often went this park on the river in Knoxville. It is a special place for all of us and I took many many pictures. I love this picture. D could spend hours catching falling leaves from the monstrous Tennessee trees. It was a delightful game for him and I loved to watch him. He may be nearing 13, but simple pleasures still delight.