a year of stories - 23 of 52 /June 14, 2016 by Carey Pace

*This post is part of a collaborative project - a year of stories shared by a group of 15 photographers every Tuesday in 2016. Please visit Mel Karlberg after you read this post to continue the circle.*

Over Memorial Day weekend, we visited Aunt Monica at her new house that sits near a lake. We haven't had the fortune to visit a lake very often, so this was quite a treat. The light was overcast and I was disappointed as we walked to the dock. Sometimes though, the unexpected can be a gift. The light isn't beautiful golden hour light but it is beautiful in its own way and made for images that are different from the others that populate my drives. They jumped. They giggled. They raced. They shivered. It was a marvelous evening.

"Only miracle is plain; it is the ordinary that groans with the unutterable weight of glory."
-Robert Farrar Capon

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart,
O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

I'm a sensitive introvert who finds such beauty in the ordinary, everyday moments in life. I seek light. I'm mesmerized by it. I photograph and share my images in the hopes that you can also be blessed by the beauty I find around me.

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A while back I sent a link to this letter board from @maderamodern to Shawn and told him I wanted one. I don’t do that too often. I’ve wanted a ginormous chalkboard for years to put quotes and thoughts and things on but have never made it happen. (Theme of my life). So often I don’t want to spend money on something “I” could make myself but what ends up happening is that I never get around to making or doing so it goes unfulfilled. But when I saw this letterboard, I just loved it. And shared it. And he remembered it. So I was shocked when months later I opened my birthday gift from The Boy to find this!!! I’m so excited. But now I love what he put on it so much I can’t bear to change out the letters.

I did an experiment. I cut this handful of blooms as tight buds, wrapped them in newspaper, and put them in the refrigerator. I didn’t think it would actually work, honestly. But yesterday morning I pulled them out and put them in this vase. It was amazing how much they opened by dinner time. And here they are this morning. I’m so excited to do this with more next year so we can spread out the enjoyment for all of June.

I walked into her room the other night and found this on her desk. It just made me feel happy to see.

Ventured out for the first time in three months all together as a family last night for ice cream at our local favorite place for anniversary ice cream (hello limoncello calling my name!)

I would guess we have about half the blooms that were here last year when we closed in the house but it’s still flowers aplenty and I’m so grateful. They were uprooted by the tree falling over by the roots on nov 1. And then several SEVERAL late frosts killed half of the forming buds. (Seriously it kills me to see so many pea sized buds stopped in their tracks that could have been beautiful flowers). I’m not sentimental. But there’s just something about these flowers that gets me deep down. Maybe it was that watching The Lady play with dozens and dozens of them from our Tennessee yard when she’d just turned the corner from banshee child to wonderfully delightful? Maybe it was a harbinger of the days to come that I’m living out right now? All I know is that the blooming of these flowers is something I Have missed so terribly since we last saw ours bloom in 2015. I am grateful to witness the beauty that breaks free from the earth despite struggle all around.

Took them down to the high school to run their miles on the track yesterday around 530pm and it was PACKED. It was such a beautiful, warm day. (The Lady in a tank top and shorts! I was wearing a sweatshirt and down vest and jeans!) They both surprised me by begging to go back to our neighborhood to run bc there were just too many people. We compromised by the two of them staying together and running around the perimeter of the school grounds instead of on the track. I had been in a mental funk and was surprised how much it shifted my mood just to get outside for a bit. The poor dogs spent the first loop around the school in a loud whining panic bc they thought the kids were leaving them.

It rained so hard and thundered and hailed today. But then the sun came out. And Shawn noticed all of the raindrops glistening like Christmas lights as the sun was about to dip below the mountain. I ran as fast as I could and barely found one still illuminated. April is a very different month in #Massachusetts, although I’m not sure this being our first one here is a good representation, with the whole world flipped upside down and all.

When all of this is over and life resumes a new normal, I think it will be our puppies who have the hardest time with it. They are eating this 24 hour a day companionship thing up.

It’s been 48 hours and neither one of us can remember what garnered this reaction

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I know better. I know better. I know better.

The whole morning was ‘off.’ I slept too late. I took the dogs out too late. I had to wait forever for the puppy to poop. I woke the kids late. I got The Lady in the shower late. I started cooking breakfast late. They started eating breakfast late. Then I spent their entire breakfast time looking for the cup of coffee that I’d poured before putting The Lady in the shower. I couldn’t find it anywhere.

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Apr 12, 2016

a year of stories - Kindness - 14 of 52

Apr 12, 2016

With my voice dripping of ridicule, I declared, "What an idiot!"

My Little Lady immediately gasped. "Momma! You shouldn't say that!"

"What a foolish, foolish thing to do!" I justified. What person in their right mind would do something like that!?

"But Momma, that isn't nice!"

A little bit later I lay next to her tiny form in her bed, snuggled in close, ready to sing her a song. "My stomach hurts."

Apr 12, 2016

Feb 29, 2016

a year of stories - fire - 8 of 52

Feb 29, 2016

The whole time I didn't know what to say. The whole time I didn't know whether this was happening for HER or for ME. Was I supposed to DO something with this? Or was I just supposed to be there, to be a calm presence, to listen? Was God trying to speak to my own heart through her words and her wounds? I felt almost panicked, not having time to think through all the options and what the one very right thing to do could be. I wish I could say I chose out of wisdom, but that's not true. I chose out of exasperation. I just tried to listen. To affirm her. To tell her I was sorry. So very sorry that it happened to her and she'd had to live through that.

"They say a burned child fears fire. That's the truth." she said.

Feb 29, 2016