Mother Loads of Love | Weekly Photo Challenge: Love

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“Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.”
~ George Eliot

The Weekly Photo Challenge this week has a theme called “Love”.
I know—where do we begin, right? I’ve got other posts on love so I thought I’d focus on one particular type of love. Can you guess? These photos are just candid shots, some very poor images, but you cannot deny the very spirit of motherhood in them.

Sometimes love needs no explanation or definition. You just know it when you see it. Don’t you just see love in the photo above?

Now that my children are grown and in their twenties, trying to find their way, I do something I swore I would never do.
I worry.
If I let my mind wander and dwell it can flourish into a constant panic attack in my chest. I just have to push the “Stop” button sometimes. A lot of these thoughts can wander into places imagined, things that may never take place; but what of the real problems they face? Is there anything I can really do?

Hands Guide an Adventurous Walk

All three of my children are healthy, loving, and growing in wisdom. They are making good decisions as they face the realities of life. I thank God each day for them and turn my anxious thoughts into prayers. I wholeheartedly enjoy them.

I reminisce at their childhood. When they stumbled and got hurt I could scoop them up with heavy doses of mother-love and lots of band aids and everything was just fine. In fact, everything was just fine as long as they were in my hands, tucked safely in my arms. My arms could snug them tight and my hands could stroke and soothe. But then I learned the simultaneous joy and pain of motherhood.

And that was letting go …

Hands Let Go

First to preschool, then kindergarten, on and on.
My arms and hands were emptied of them and the thoughts would begin—are they okay? Will they get hurt? What if someone is mean to them?

As they grew out of physical harm the wounds of the heart kept my intuition on its toes. Once again, my touch could soothe. And each hurt pinched my own heart a bit. Still does. When you carry them inside you for those nine long months there is that strong bond of just “knowing”.

And I try not to worry. I try to pray. But I catch my hands, my arms. Empty. Where are they right this minute? Are they happy? Are they suffering? Is there anything I can do right this minute?

I thought about my grandmother, how she did this, standing there wringing her hands. My mom did, too.

Now I am doing it.

Why, oh why, oh why? This has just got to stop! And one day it did. While rocking my sweet grandson I figured it all out …

Arms of Love

The only time we feel our children are safe is when they are in our arms. When they are not we wring our hands. Our arms and hands must be wrapped around them, else worry never leaves us.

I remember the moment of their birth cradled first in my open hands, me all giddy, forgetting the horrific trauma of the prior moments! You’d think those moments would linger but no—our hands are full of a wonder so great the birth pangs slip easily from our memories as our hands and arms wrap around that gracious gift. And so it goes from the time they are born …

if they are not in our arms, we wring out hands. Our hands must, they must do something! Our arms, our hands hold the key to their safety, their wholeness, their existence, don’t they!

What are we to do with our empty hands? What should fill our hands when our children do not?

Why not assume a different position … and a difference perspective? Unclench and pry apart, then turn those wringing hands into peaceful palms together, then point them heavenward … in prayer.

Could it be for this very reason that hands folded together are prayer’s only adornment? I wonder that perhaps God knew mothers would need something useful to do with our hands when our little ones are grown and out in the great big world.

For in this simple gesture is the truest place where heaven does move earth, as a mother’s prayer is borne like no other. For those folded hands replace the empty hands and fill the heavens with songs whispering the best and highest we can do for our children—place them in the hands of the One who never sleeps and has His eye on them at all times.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Love

Other interpretations of the Weekly Photo Challenge that I like:

Legacy of Joy

Sony Cyber-Shot. Self-portrait in front of a mirror. {Ok, WordPress, I’m trying.}

My dear readers,

WordPress asked all bloggers to write a post about what inspires us to blog. They wanted photos of us doing those activities. At first I was hesitant. I am far more comfortable behind a camera than in front of it. The other hesitation is my wish to maintain a measure of privacy. I confess the global world of blogging still intimidates me. But I will do my best to strike a balance with both.

WordPress encourages us to write and click. To write about EVERYTHING. To take pictures of EVERYTHING. I’m not a great writer but I love words in the form of quotes, with a dab of writing here and there. I love words that resonate healing, words that echo affirmation in the soul, words that bring joy.

I add photography and sometimes if I get lucky the pictures seem to coordinate with the quotes. Total creative fun.

Capturing another glorious sunset using the amazing iPhone camera. HDR settings, of course.

Capturing another glorious sunset with an iPhone.

Why do I blog? The biggest reason is my family—past, present, and future. And second, the multitude of friends throughout the years that have enriched my life, which now include you. I’m inspired by what makes me smile, that gives me a break in this hectic wild ride we call life and just inhale some gladness. I share to decrease sadness and increase joy … for everyone.

In addition, I hope to preserve a place that leaves words and pictures of my faith, footsteps, philosophy, and focus. WordPress says don’t hold back. But if I didn’t this would be a book. So here goes—in the most succinct I can be.

My mom and dad, both in heaven. Dad—the kindest, most generous man on the planet. Mom—organized, thrifty, clean. Together they gave me the best upbringing one could imagine. I miss them terribly. They were taken so soon. This blog honors their memory.

Wedding of my parents.

My parent’s wedding

My sweet grandmother. You lived two doors down from me. How could I ever forget the overnights and morning tea? Jumping on your bed and nighttime prayers? Your fluffy, down pillows? Your gift of sewing. You designed and made all the bridesmaid and flower girl dresses in the photo above. My family says I’m so much like you and I think that’s pretty cool.

My siblings. Amid the rivalry we emerged strong and united to this day. If I needed you at my side today, you would be there. {Dear brother, I’ll never forget when you drove cross-country to bring my Christmas presents.} In losing our parents so soon maybe we don’t take for granted the gift of each other.

Me peeking around for some candid shots at a family event. {Nikon D60 DSLR}

My husband. Wise, smart, funny, kind, philosopher, wizard. You give to everyone the most prized of possessions—your time. Cares for and watches over me with tenderness, patience, and love. Comes to my rescue for everything. Pulls over at a moment’s notice to let me capture another exquisite never-to-be-seen shot. Keeps my gas tank full. So much like my dad.

DSCF1993

Taking me up the hill the easy way, after a long sled ride down.

My children. Joy beyond belief. Each finding your way. Each blessed with kind and generous hearts. I know without a doubt that whatever path you choose, it will be done with the highest integrity. Where do I even begin?

A summer job for oldest daughter. She loved it {farm girl}

A summer job for oldest daughter. {Farm girl}

My grandson—I delight in this crazy notion called “grandparent love”. It is wondrous and enchanting. He is a ray of sunshine in my life.

The grand having a grand time in the mud.

The grand having a grand time in the mud.

My life-long faraway friends. Glenda, Debbie, Janna, Mary Beth, Peggy, Nancy, Lisa. We just pick up from where we left off.

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Morning coffee on the back porch with a friend

My near friends. When I moved here you soothed my homesickness and the pain in losing my mother shortly after my arrival. We share the deepest parts of our lives, the heartaches and joys. You know who you are and I love the richness and trust we share.

My very shy friend. Yes, she's under there!

My very shy friend. Yes, she’s under the umbrella!

The day job. I work with exceptionally talented people in a very narrow field of medicine. I was stretched to learn a most demanding skill and with tenacity and a lot of prayer I did. And I get to do some really neat stuff that cares for very sick patients. Witnessed a few miracles, too. Every time I walk across the parking lot to begin my day I thank God for my legs and that I get to do what I do. At the end of the day I get to leave and go home. Those who are sick have to stay and wish they could go home.

Steve's stuff. He taught me how to use these—not easy.

Stuff I use at the Day Job—not easy to learn.

God. Sunrises, sunsets, flowers, nature bursting forth with color, light, and wonder. Majestic painter and creator you are. You are a very present help in time of need. Your Word, living and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword guides me. Apart from you I can do nothing.

Winter sunset out my backdoor. Hand painted by God. Incredible.

Winter sunset out my backdoor. Hand painted by God. Incredible.

And this is just the introduction to my inspiration for the wonderful world of blogging. It’s a peek into my life “in focus”—behind the camera, behind the words. Relationships are my greatest inspiration. And these are but a few. Blogging is a place where I can sort of “hang my heart” in honor of all of them.
As I press on may I leave a legacy of joy.
Peace,
Alexandria

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This is just a photo-op. Serious photographers know you can’t take a picture of the moon without a tripod and special lens. I’m posing with the Nikon D60 with stock lens. Like I said, a photo-op to show me taking a picture. It was a beautiful backdrop, full moon rising. One of these days …

All photos taken with Nikon D60 DSLR with AF-S Nikkor 18-55mm 1:3.5-5.6G lens, Sony Cyber-Shot, or iPhone. Photos of me were taken by my family, except the first—taken by me. 🙂

Other interpretations of the Challenge and related articles:

Weekly Photo Challenge: Movement | Unapologetically You

“There is nothing more beautiful than seeing a person being themselves. Imagine going through your day being unapologetically you.”

~ Steve Maraboli

Weekly Photo Challenge: Create | Portraits of Success

When I saw this week’s Photo Challenge my thoughts turned immediately to my previous “Portraits of Success” photo of child’s chalk creations. I have reposted with some added thoughts and photos. Enjoy, contemplate … create.

Children have an insatiable desire to create, to dream. What better way to adorn a front porch than with these beautiful child drawings? Don’t children provide a continual delight with constant surprises of the creative urge? We smile, we laugh, we delight. We are captivated, enchanted.

But there is deep within us a simultaneous lament, an angst that pains the delight. We look bare-faced at ourselves. Life progressed and the weight of the world gradually nudged out the child—and the dreams, drowned in the cares of life, swirled in a whirlpool down the drain. The child within seemed to disappear. Then we become bearers of children and begin a quest, and cultivate to make it different for them.

But should we do no less for ourselves?  Should we not reclaim the artist, the child within? For the artist within leads to one of our Creator’s intentions for us—joy. Sheer joy.

A twenty-something picks up a brush for the first time and discovers a wondrous gift

The insatiable desire to create was given by the Creator to feed our dreams throughout life and create, create, create into adulthood—to keep us, in the words of Steve Jobs—”hungry and foolish”—and become all we were intended to be. And we can find our “adult work” through nourishing the artist within. Our work will not seem like work. In a sense, it can even seem like play. As Thomas Jefferson said, “Find a job you love and you’ll never work another day in your life.” Children are risky and lavish as they create. They are not gripped with insecurity, fear, or hesitation that bounds we adults.

A great-grandpa that knows how to stay a child and builds something delightful.

As grown-ups we must practice the art of creation and reclaim our childlike wonder. We must be intentional this time because we have lost our natural inclination to do so. Keep creating, keep looking, keep finding. After all, our Creator has the same insatiable desire. Look at the intricate beauty He presents to us everyday, everywhere—touches of heaven. Let us mimic Him.

Chalk is a great place to start!

Thoughts on this, please?
Peace,
Alexandria

Other thoughts on this:

https://simplysage.org/2012/01/22/nourish-joy/

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 19:14 NKJV)

“To laugh often and much—to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children—to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends—to appreciate beauty—to find the best in others—to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition—to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived—this is to have succeeded.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Weekly Photo Challenge: Create | Portraits of Success

Children have an insatiable desire to create, to dream. What better way to adorn a front porch than with these beautiful child drawings? Don’t children provide a continual delight with constant surprises of the creative urge? We smile, we laugh, we delight. We are captivated, enchanted.

But there is deep within us a simultaneous lament, an angst that pains the delight. We look bare-faced at ourselves. Life progressed and the weight of the world gradually nudged out the child—and the dreams, drowned in the cares of life, swirled in a whirlpool down the drain. The child within seemed to disappear. Then we become bearers of children and begin a quest, and cultivate to make it different for them.

But should we do no less for ourselves?  Should we not reclaim the artist, the child within? For the artist within leads to one of our Creator’s intentions for us—joy. Sheer joy.

A twenty-something picks up a brush for the first time and discovers something wonderful

The insatiable desire to create was given by the Creator to feed our dreams throughout life and create, create, create into adulthood—to keep us, in the words of Steve Jobs—”hungry and foolish”—and become all we were intended to be. And we can find our “adult work” through nourishing the artist within. Our work will not seem like work. In a sense, it can even seem like play. As Thomas Jefferson said, “Find a job you love and you’ll never work another day in your life.” Children are risky and lavish as they create. They are not gripped with insecurity, fear, and hesitation that bounds we adults.

A great-grandpa stays a child and builds something wondrous—Thomas the Train!

As grown-ups we must practice the art of creation and reclaim our childlike wonder. We must be intentional this time because we have lost our natural inclination to do so. Keep creating, keep looking, keep finding. After all, our Creator has the same insatiable desire. Look at the intricate beauty He presents to us everyday, everywhere—touches of heaven. Let us mimic Him.

Chalk is a great place to start!

Thoughts on this, please?
Peace,
Alexandria

Other thoughts on this:

https://simplysage.org/2012/01/22/nourish-joy/

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 19:14 NKJV)

“To laugh often and much—to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children—to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends—to appreciate beauty—to find the best in others—to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition—to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived—this is to have succeeded.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson