Monday, January 19, 2009

"Seek and ye shall find"

I was rewarded Friday morning with a very sweet surprise while on my way to work. The road I take passes by some farms, and this particular morning, the trees and fence fading into the fog caught my eye. Of course I had my camera, and I had some extra time, so I pulled over, crossed the street, and took these pictures: 

And a few more, of course. Anyway, as the sun started to rise, the fog became illuminated to the point that the camera would not focus anymore, so I figured my photo session for the morning was officially over. So I turned around to cross the street, and this is what I turned around to:

And yes, I was brought to tears, but this time, instead of tears of devastation, they were tears of gratitude for allowing me to have another glimpse of something so breathtakingly beautiful. 
Does this not look like an angel?

As I was driving to my office, I was thinking of  how interesting it was that I was allowed a small glimpse that first morning. Then I attempted to seek it out many times with no success. I still found very beautiful things, and was still grateful for what I did see, but I was still seeking that sunrise none the less. Then, on a morning when I was not expecting it, nor actively looking for it, I was rewarded. I think Wendy summed it up the best. “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” (Matthew 7:7,8) The Lord, after my seeking, gave me a much treasured gift. Not right when I wanted it, but when it was His time to give it. And for those small things, I am forever grateful.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

A pathetically sad story.

So I am officially obsessed with my camera. Considering I've loaded almost 6000 images on my beloved MacBook since *ahem* May, I'd say that's a bit obsessive. I've been trying to figure out why I like to take so many pictures, and I've come to a few conclusions. Either I am afraid if I don't capture it, either I can't prove I saw it, or I'll be afraid I won't remember what it looked like. OR, this is my outlet, my way to find things that visually express how I feel inside. I find something, some form of natural beauty that touches me, and I want to share that with others so they too can see the beauty that they would otherwise overlook. I am leaning on the outlet. 

So why is this a pathetically sad story? Well, I usually take my camera with me, and at least have it in my car, just in case. ;) Last week, as I was walking out the door to take the kids to school, I grabbed my camera off the hall table, then put it back telling myself "You're just taking them to school, then you're coming right back home. You don't need the camera." So I left it home.

On my way back home, one of the roads I take crosses over the Provo River, and passes an RV park right along the river that has hundreds of tall mature trees. That particular morning, the fog was so thick that I could only see a few car lengths ahead of me. Just as I was approaching the river, the sun started to rise from behind the mountain, which instantly turned the gray fog between the trees into a brilliant deep amber glow. Then, as the sun was a bit further up, it sent thick streaks of the sun's rays cutting through the fog, being interrupted by the trees. It literally took my breath away. I on impulse, pulled over and reached for my camera. Which I left at home. I started crying. I was devastated that I wasn't able to capture that intensely beautiful moment. I am pathetic.

Here are the trees, and the sunrise, just minus the fog.

Imagine the picture above with sun ray streaks like this:

But foggier and orange like this:

It was stunning.

I still get teary eyed when I think of it, almost as if I am mourning a terrible loss. I have even stalked that very spot almost every morning since hoping to get the same glimpse, but with no luck. I think it's official that I am obsessed.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Another heartbreaking yet eye opening event.

Last month, after the sudden death of Alan, it brought to my mind the fine line of mortality. I couldn't help but think about how different things would be if I KNEW that I'd see that person for the last time. Would I treat them differently? Would I make sure any wrongs I had done were made right? Would I bite my tongue when I'm about to say something potentially hurtful? Would my senses be heightened and would I be more aware of their unspoken needs? Would I make sure that before we part I gave them a hug and an I love you? 

As I lay in bed at night, either in Nolan's arms or him in mine, those thoughts keep coming back to me, along with a deep gratitude that when we both left in the morning, that parting was not our last. I hold him extra tight and realize how blessed I am that he is here with me, that he was able to make it through the day, and make it home. A split second decision or indecision can take life away with no warning. Am I treating him in the manner that if something would happen, I wouldn't have any regrets? Or that if something were to happen to me, he would know that I loved and cherished him, and that our last moments together were happy loving ones? I sure hope so. I know I'm nowhere near perfect with my attitude, but I'm trying, and will continue to work on that.

On Friday, all those feelings were intensified tenfold. A friend & neighbor of mine, left for the grocery store, with her kids home with her hubby. When she returned home, she found her husband had passed away. I couldn't help but wonder what kinds of words were said as she was heading out the door, and what kinds of regrets she possibly has. It breaks my heart to think of all the "if only" thoughts she must be thinking. It also breaks my heart to imagine the despair and pain she is enduring. She'll never have a chance to apologize to him for any harsh words she had ever said, or any times she may have unintentionally made him feel unimportant. She'll never have a chance to tell him how much she loves and appreciates him, and how much she cherished him. She'll never have a chance to hold him close. Like I said, I don't know what words were said either positive or negative that day, but it would crush me if they were fighting or having a typical marital argument when she left, and those were the last words ever said. I would hate myself and would never forgive myself for not expressing my love regardless of the disagreement. I wouldn't want things to be like that.

Hold your families close. You never know what day will be your last. Again, live each day as though it'll be your last. Treat people in a manner that you would want to be remembered by. Let everyone in your life know how important they are to you and how much you appreciate them. Be mindful of needs, especially the unspoken ones. Make amends for any hurtful things that were said or done. Women, hug your men, compliment them, bend over backwards to show them that they are needed, wanted and loved. Men, hold and caress your women. Let them know how lost you'd be without them. Parents, love your kids. Openly. Spend quality time with them and don't act like it's an inconvenience. Show them that you are thankful that they came into your lives, and they would have an empty hole without them. Life is too short to put off apologies. Life is too long to live with regrets.