Virtually every day when I pull into church, there is an elderly man taking his morning walk. He wears a back brace and walks with two canes, both with added arm braces for extra stability. We've grown used to each other now and when I pass by, I wave and he waves back.
Of course I can't help but think this: here is an elderly man, seemingly in worse shape than I am and yet he is doing what I cannot, taking a walk, stopping to wave.
Author Anne Lamott posted on her Facebook page yesterday that one of the worse things we can do is compare our suffering with others in an attempt to gain perspective. In other words we should never think that just because there are people in the world suffering far worse things than we are, we have no right to complain or feel sad or angry about our own problems.
"Suffering is suffering," Lamott writes and when we compare ourselves to others, we deny what Lamott refers to as "radical self-care." Comparing your pain to someone else's can only cause you to dismiss your own needs.
And we all have needs.
Though I went to church this morning to take pictures, I did not stay for the service. I did get to speak to a few people which is always important to me. And I once again was able to share, briefly, how important 365 Days of Hope is to me.
It is more than just getting me out of the house.
As I have walked the grounds of Hope, I have seen things that have taken my breath away. I hold my breath to make sure I get a steady shot with the camera, but sometimes I hold my breath because I'm afraid if I breathe the moment will pass.
I'm afraid the dragonfly will flutter away. I'm afraid of startling the cardinal foraging for food. And I'm afraid that if I breathe, the clouds will pass over the moon in that breath and I will miss the moment completely.
I drive to church every morning even on the days when I feel horrible, even on the days when all I do is pull the car up on the grass, hop out, take a few quick pictures, snap, snap, snap, and then drive away.
These pictures mean everything to me.
And then I get to share them with you.
More than three years ago, Pastor Debbie called me to set up a time for us to meet for the first time and discuss my experiences so far at Hope. I was working when she called and so she left a voicemail. And in the voicemail she mentioned she was anxious to speak with me, anxious for a "fresh pair of eyes."
That is how I feel taking these pictures, that I have been given a fresh pair of eyes, but in this case the vision comes from within. It is vision that is God-given and soul driven.
365 Days of Hope is how I participate in Lamott's "radical self-care."
And this morning, I didn't let the moon slip away from me.
Of course I can't help but think this: here is an elderly man, seemingly in worse shape than I am and yet he is doing what I cannot, taking a walk, stopping to wave.
Author Anne Lamott posted on her Facebook page yesterday that one of the worse things we can do is compare our suffering with others in an attempt to gain perspective. In other words we should never think that just because there are people in the world suffering far worse things than we are, we have no right to complain or feel sad or angry about our own problems.
"Suffering is suffering," Lamott writes and when we compare ourselves to others, we deny what Lamott refers to as "radical self-care." Comparing your pain to someone else's can only cause you to dismiss your own needs.
And we all have needs.
Though I went to church this morning to take pictures, I did not stay for the service. I did get to speak to a few people which is always important to me. And I once again was able to share, briefly, how important 365 Days of Hope is to me.
It is more than just getting me out of the house.
As I have walked the grounds of Hope, I have seen things that have taken my breath away. I hold my breath to make sure I get a steady shot with the camera, but sometimes I hold my breath because I'm afraid if I breathe the moment will pass.
I'm afraid the dragonfly will flutter away. I'm afraid of startling the cardinal foraging for food. And I'm afraid that if I breathe, the clouds will pass over the moon in that breath and I will miss the moment completely.
I drive to church every morning even on the days when I feel horrible, even on the days when all I do is pull the car up on the grass, hop out, take a few quick pictures, snap, snap, snap, and then drive away.
These pictures mean everything to me.
And then I get to share them with you.
More than three years ago, Pastor Debbie called me to set up a time for us to meet for the first time and discuss my experiences so far at Hope. I was working when she called and so she left a voicemail. And in the voicemail she mentioned she was anxious to speak with me, anxious for a "fresh pair of eyes."
That is how I feel taking these pictures, that I have been given a fresh pair of eyes, but in this case the vision comes from within. It is vision that is God-given and soul driven.
365 Days of Hope is how I participate in Lamott's "radical self-care."
And this morning, I didn't let the moon slip away from me.
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