a new lens on life

It has begun, my obsession with my new camera lens.  We are MFEO (made for each other), and I don’t care who knows it.  

Take pictures of birds doing their thing on the Georgetown water front?  No sweat.  Me and camsters got this. And we love these birds. A lot.

Get really friendly with some shoes, water fountains, and general Saturday splendor?  Puh-lease.  Challenge us.  

To the kid who had a dream of rocking red converse sneakers: Right on.  
To the parent that made his dream come true: Thank you.

The funny thing is, I have had this lens lying in my janky old camera bag since Dad gave me the wonderful gift of this camera for Christmas.  But I wasn’t ready for it.  It was definitely a matter of Providence that I left it alone lying there in a sock, not even once taking it out to see what this lens had to offer me. 

It wasn’t until a little over a week ago that I was finally ready to look through my camera and see things differently.  

It came from a stirring deep within for change.  Drastic, real life, undeniable change.  This stirring comes complete with the understanding that I cannot create this change within myself, but at least I can start trying to see things differently.  And by things I mean myself, life, and God.  To try a look through the lens of hope, and abandoning forever the lens of never.  Life will never be different, I will never change, God could never do this or that.  I decided to give the lens of possibility and trust in God's Providence and perfect Love a whirl, and so far the view is a heck of a lot better than the never lens.

For nothing will be impossible for God.  Luke 1:47

 
I am definitely a beginner, and I really can’t see anything at all without grace from Heaven, but that is never in short supply when we have such an infinitely generous and Merciful Lord.  

He gave me this new lens when I was ready for it.  And I’m ready for it.  I am ready for the infinite possibility that comes with trusting in God completely.  This lens is what I will use to begin my dream job of rainbow hunting.  Now is a very acceptable time.  He is the God of Reality and the Present, and it is time now.  

For what?  Only He knows.  But it’s something, and I have my new lens all shiny and ready for new vistas.  

 This weekend, He gave me practice in embracing the unexpected gifts of the moment with joy instead of fear.   I went to Mass with Bubba and Lisa Amalia Saturday evening, and the priest delivered a wonderful homily about Jesus being our  Good Shepherd.  How He goes after His lost sheep, and rejoices at the finding of one that was lost more than the 99 that stayed put.  How the sheep are utterly, completely, wholly dependent upon the Shepherd for everything.  And I made a connection that had never occurred to me before between Jesus as our Shepherd, and Jesus as the Lamb of God.  
We are the little lost lambs, He the Shepherd.  And the difference between us and God is far more radical than the difference between a human shepherd and his sheep.  Imagine a human willingly becoming a sheep so that sheep would be saved from all that threatens to destroy them. That would be crazy enough, because a lot of times we eat lambs. And, after all is said and done, they are sort of dumb animals that no human would ever deem worth dying for (well, most wouldn't at least).

That's what the Good Shepherd has done and continues to do for us, but it is way more of a radical transformation than a human becoming a sheep. This is God leaving Heaven and becoming man. Humans who have sinned against Him over and over again. Humans who gave up paradise so we could do it our way. He came among those who made themselves His enemy to show us how to be what we were truly created to be, and He became food for us in the Eucharist. As St. John the Baptist put it: "Behold, the Lamb of God, Who takes away the sins of the world" (John 1:29). Happy are we who are called to His supper.  

And of course, Psalm 23 cannot ever be ignored when we talk about Jesus as our Good Shepherd.  And it so fully applied to my weekend, I couldn’t help but melt into a puddly mess of gratitude when I realized it.

Let’s look at the facts:
Friday morning, getting ready, Christina comes in for one of her “I live 2 seconds from my job so I can pop in at random times” breaks with a package from Amazon in hand and makes the startling announcement that it’s addressed to me.  I had not ordered anything, and I was puzzled as to whom my benefactor/ress might be.  As I began pulling back the cardboard barrier between me and this mystery, I had a twinkling of hope.  What if it’s the book I’ve wanted to get, but felt I couldn’t justify the expense?  And in an instant, I saw it.  The blue sky, the baby feet, the glossy red lettering.  It was the book I was secretly hoping for.  It was bloom.  Written by the blogger who inspired me to begin my foray into this funny bloggin’ life.  

I jumped about my room, and leaped out into the hall to announce to the thin air (which I thought might still contain Christina) that it was bloom!!!
And it only took me a second after to figure out the lovely, generous, precious soul that was this thoughtful.  It was Romy.  The beautiful wife, mama, and friend I have been privileged to know since I’ve moved to Virginia.  

She’s awesome, for many a reason, and it did not take the skills of Sherlock to peg her as the culprit of this God moment.  Last week was rough.  This was a little song, played to me by the Good Shepherd through the instrument of Romy, to remind me He is here, He is in control, and it’s all going to be beautiful.  Thank you so very much, Romy.  You made my day.  

Saturday was what I would have ordered if I had been handed a weekend menu Friday night and been asked to special order this magical cream-of-the-weekend-oreo-day in advance.  I slept until I didn’t need to sleep anymore.  I made coffee in my cozy flannel jammies, I arranged my coffee in my favorite family china cup (not to be confused with the human China) and I let it get friendly with my biscotti.  Because this is how you read bloom. 

Don’t worry, I also had the author’s blog playlist serenading my inaugural saturday delve into the coveted book.  China was at the dining table sipping on her decaf coffee, and Bubba was at the desk, sipping his straight up coffee coffee, and I was cozied up on the red chair by the window, and we lived our sibling saturday symbiosis as we were born to do. Saturday morning is delicious.

After Saturday morning goodness had lounged until it could lounge no more, Bubba invited me to join him and his gal, Lisa Amalia, to the Georgetown waterfont.  It was cold, but my reynaudsy fingers thought nought of it (until they were no longer busy with the camster).  

And then Mass, of course, made everything truly Beautiful.  There were 11 kiddos all suited and white dressed up for their First Holy Communions, and well, if you want Elisa to cry during Mass, make sure to put in some little ones receiving Jesus in the Eucharist for the first time.  Guaranteed waterworks every time.  In Mass I realized what the Psalmist wrote applied directly to my day:

“The LORD is my shepherd;

there is nothing I lack.

In green pastures he makes me lie down;

to still waters he leads me;

he restores my soul.

He guides me along right paths

for the sake of his name.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff comfort me” Psalm 23: 1-4

I mean you can’t get much more green pasturey than this, and the waters, they were still and quiet and velvety.   The sea gulls will attest to the fact, I guarantee.  

The sub-title (I have NO idea what else to call it) of the book I have briefly mentioned one or 10 times is “finding beauty in the unexpected”.  Well, let me just say, that is pretty darn close to the theme I decided to apply to 2012: Expect the Unexpected.  Because if I have learned anything about our Creator and Savior, it is that His way is not our way.  And His thoughts are not our thoughts.  And He works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform.  We topped off the weekend with the cherry of nieces, McCabes, and the bliss of a window-open kind of Resurrection day.

These moments of goodness over the weekend were not asked for by name.  I have, as mentioned in my last post, reduced my personal prayer requests to very few words.  Mostly it’s just Thy Will be done.  Over and over again.  So in a way I guess I did request these gifts.  Just not specifically.  Because it was His will, and not my merit or my specific thoughts or attempts to control the situation that brought out the beauty.  It was all Him.  He is the dreamer of my dreams.  

I am trying to truly act as though I believe this, instead of just saying it because it sounds sweet and lovely and perfect.  Believing it means giving it over.  And by it, I mean my life.  All of it.  The good, the bad, the ugly, and the uglier.  And getting out of my own way so that He has room to do what HE does best.  Beauty from ashes.  Resurrection from death.  Light from darkness.  Joy from pain and sorrow.  That is His specialty, and that’s what I am going to order from my life Menu until my dying day by the grace of God.  

Have a happy week!