Hello. It's been awhile.
Many things have happened.
Hard things, sad things. Also many many good things. But life has been lived in crisis mode for far too long and I am tired, and -- too often these days -- I do not lift my head, or even my eyes, from the path in front of me. The path of earning a living, keeping body and soul together for me and my boys, while still chipping away at learning my new profession. The path I fear to lose if my attention wanders even for an instant, because my attention is always needed somewhere to be doing something, working studying tending cooking cleaning driving....
The same life as yours. Obligation and duty and work.
We are lucky to have all of these. But we are also made with a pinch of stardust. I didn't name this blog "Signs and Wonders" for nothing, long ago as that was. I still believe.
Recently I have been feeling the pressing of my load a bit less. A small sliver of space, a blessed bit of existential breathing room, has opened up. I want to put something good there, to hold the space and keep it open within me. So here I am back again, doing something I know how to do -- use my eyes, make pictures -- though I don't often do it these days.
Early this morning I was tromping back from opening up the chicken coop and scattering some cracked corn for the ladies when I saw this dandelion, somehow missed by our assiduous lawn service dudes. I had noticed the flower earlier this week, winking happy and yellow from the summer green grass even as the first autumn leaves began dropping from the pecan tree above.
The light was amazing. I scurried back to the house to retrieve my camera and tried to make the picture that resonated in my heart. The close-mown grass, the slender miracle of this dandelion puff rising above. The golden side-slant first morning sunlight quickly turned hearty and clear and the magic passed, but not before i'd spent time flat on my belly in the dew-wet grass, trying to make the feelingthoughts in my head and heart turn into a photo.
I don't think I got it. This shot, the one I like the best, is actually from my phone. But the thing is, I did it. I tried. For a long time now I haven't had that little bit of grace in me to to spare for something like this. Today I did. Tomorrow I will try again. I hesitate to peg any kind of number here, because I have never completed any 365 project I ever noisily, publicly committed to. Maybe this time we start small. I'll do it again tomorrow.
That is my simple wish on this dandelion: tomorrow. I left it standing there, by the way. Didn't puff on the puff to scatter its seeds to the wind, though that is the traditional dandelion wish technique. Instead I just said thank you, and went into the house to make breakfast.
Thank you, Lord, for this good life, and forgive us if sometimes we do not love it enough. Making pictures is my way of remembering to pause and be grateful.
