I have a blog, but I’m not always a blogger. It sits there, like a dusty plant in the corner of a room, that sometimes gets attention. I don’t always want to write, but when I do, it’s a quake of emotion that must be documented and put in a safe place. It deserves its own special box with a shiny bow, tied ever so carefully, as a piece of my heart lives in that box. My heart hurts big, but it loves even bigger. When the quake hits, the ripple of emotion births a new blog. So, here is my heart, on this day.
Before it changes.
I sent my husband a text yesterday, “I love you. I wish time would stand still.” Later in the evening we talked about it and I explained, our life together has always been good, not perfect, but good. Right now it’s great, and I know a new chapter is around the corner – it will still be good, and maybe even better. I wish I could freeze this season we are in, and if time would only stand still. If I could, I would “Frame This.”
One of the beautiful things about social media is seeing families grow, new lives being born, smiles, laughs and moments that are so cherished, and a vapor in time that will never come again. Cherished so much they get shared with the whole-wide-world. Many times as I’m scrolling, my heart trips over an image, because I can see through it. It might be as simple as a dad and daughter looking at Christmas lights, a baby trying ice cream, an animal covered in mud, or a grandmother in her flower garden. The joy is unleashed and radiant, as if nothing else matters. I’ll simply comment, “frame this”, and scroll on.
My parents joined us on a trip to our favorite slice of Heaven, Isla Mujeres. The night before our flight, my mom said “take my picture holding this sign.” It was a metal sign she had given me as a birthday gift that read “and I think to myself, what a wonderful world”. That was also mine and Chris’s wedding song, so the quote is truly special. She was wearing a “fuzzy robe”, her signature look, as she held the sign. She wanted it to be the first picture in the camera roll of photos for the trip, because the words were very fitting to reflect on before we spent the next 5 days making memories of a lifetime. In this world, even beneath the tragedy, pain and corruption that exist, there is goodness and there is joy, and yes, what a wonderful world! Not only did I capture this moment in time with my mom, I ordered a painting of the moment to “frame this”.
I have a picture in my hallway of all the cousins, with the youngest one screaming and crying while the others are smiling, actually they were probably giggling about the tantrum unfolding. It’s beautiful. It captures the ages, a toddler having a breakdown, teenagers with acne and braces, in the backyard of my sister’s house, at a family gathering which are becoming fewer and fewer. Of all the pictures I could have printed from that particular day, I chose the tantrum. It was drenched in authenticity and real life. I needed it on my wall, so I “framed this”.
Last year, one very brave lady being Me, decided to schedule a photo shoot for herself, to embark on year number 45 around the sun. I cancelled and rescheduled a hundred times and finally just jumped off the cliff and showed up. It was the bravest thing I have ever done, and it changed my life. I am not ashamed or embarrassed as I once was, and I never want to forget the empowerment it gifted me. The experience was so moving, it brought tears on more than one occasion. One day my children will have these photos, and I hope they will remember they had a strong, beautiful, independent, and brave mother. To me, the photos are a symbol of growth that I’ll always cling to. I printed one for my husband, of his 45-year-old wife because one day when we’re 90, I want him to remember 45, so I “framed it”.
I have a photograph of my grandmother in Florida, at age 14 wearing a flower lei, for a top I guess. I don’t know who took the picture or how inappropriate it was at that time, but I am so grateful for whoever used their brand-new Kodak 35mm, and went the extra mile to develop it. It’s a memory of my grandmother’s youth that is forever etched in my mind, and I “framed it”.
Framing a memory tells part of the story and documents the season of change. My husband and I are living in a season of goodness and I know the next one will be different, but still good. We’ll have grandkids that make us laugh, more wrinkles we hate and less energy that we’ll miss, illness, and sadness as we grow old, but joy will triumph. We’ll continue framing moments in time, good bad and indifferent as the journey unfolds, and enjoy every twist and turn of the ride – smiling until the end.
Maybe I don’t want time to stand still, because I want to see what’s next. But I’m grateful to have a heart that desires framing sweet moments in life. Years from now when someone is dusting the corners for you, packing the box or cleaning out the closet, they’ll embark on the memory and smile, all because you “framed yours” too.