The incarnate Word is with us,
still speaking, is present
always, yet leaves no sign
but everything that is.
(Wendell Berry)
I have had this sort of subtle, yet constant, feeling as I go through my days that I should have a hobby, or some sort of activity that I do. The free time that I do have these days (read: the overlapping nap time that happens usually for an hour every afternoon) is primarily spent doing dishes, cleaning up the house, preparing dinner for the evening, and then maybe reading a page or two in a book. But even then, I feel like I ought to paint, or knit, or hand letter, or crochet, or make things. And I feel unsettled and unhappy because I feel like I don’t have a hobby or a “thing” of my own.
Recently I’ve been remembering that at one time in my life, I considered myself a photographer. And I would still like to be one today. I have three loaded film cameras that I got out again, and I thought I should get my digital out more often, as well. (My equipment is getting old and doesn’t work as well is it used to, so it tends to be frustrating more often than not, but alas!) I think I can pretty easily take an enjoyable, cute photo of my kids but mostly because they are so darn cute. But back before I had children, I took photos of things that I saw, and I want to get back into that. I want to notice the little pieces of beauty in each day, and to capture them. Perhaps sometimes for others to appreciate, but primarily for me to appreciate as I attempt to embrace the details of these days that feel so moment-to-moment and dictated by the needs and feelings of two little ones.
Maybe this is just another one of my “project ideas” that I usually begin and rarely continue for very long. But I hope not. Inspired by one of Wendell Berry’s Sabbath Poems, quoted at the beginning of this post, I hope to notice and capture at least a few times a week the signs that I see of beauty and incarnation around me. I want my present sight to be that which notices and embraces the entirety of this world that is so impregnated with glory and love.
So this little photo is my first entry.
Snow came this weekend and there is something so perfect about soft, white, heavy snowfall with the Christmas tree lit up in the living room and fresh coffee in the pot. We made a brief excursion into the wonderland. It was precluded by about twenty minutes of struggling with gloves and boots and hats. In preparation for the storm, I stopped by the consignment shop yesterday for some gear. The only boots I found for JH are the ugliest Spiderman boots that light up when you walk—perhaps the highlight of the morning. My only complaint about snow before the semester ends? The shoveling falls to me.
