View from the Prairie Box

Thoughts, in no particular order:

• Getting away, pretty much anywhere, inspires me.
• I love having to walk to reach my destination.
• I’d like walking more if I didn’t have stupid joint problems in my feet.
• Beds with messy sheets appeal to me if the bedding is nice.
• I know these are mostly wide angle shots, but really and truly that margarita was huge.
• I did not feel good after drinking half that margarita on an empty stomach.
• LIGHTWEIGHT. That’s me.
• Jeremy is my favorite travel buddy ever. I just love him.
• Watching schoolchildren recite the Pledge of Allegiance on a rooftop playground is charming beyond all words.
• The end. For now.

Whenever we leave Nebraska for California midwinter, an undressing ritual is involved. In a car with heat blasting from the dashboard we shimmy out of our fluffy winter coats and make a dash for the airport in something more suited to mild San Francisco climes. The jaunt from car to shuttle, or car to airport this time, is a heart-racing, frozen-nostril kind of event, but knowing I’m heading towards warmer temps is enough to keep my spirits up. Returning home is another thing entirely. By this time those fluffy winter coats are popsicles in the backseat and the only saving grace about getting into the car is that it buffers us from the freezing plains winds.

The Lincoln airport is a funny little place. Some might call it quaint. Others might think it’s plain ridiculous. But it does the job, right? I’ve found the TSA employees there to be, at times, completely overzealous, but they were very chill this last trip. The other LNK employees are delightful in their helpfulness usually. I’m always surprised when I don’t know *anyone* waiting at the gate with me. Because anytime I go to the mall or Target or the grocery store I see someone I know.

Prepping for a trip is its own kind of exhausting and even though I love to travel I always question why I’m going through so much work to get out of town. But the moment eventually comes where you sidle up to your gate, rewrapping your scarf and perhaps rethreading your belt, and you’ve arrived. No more responsibilities. No more arrangements to make. No more instructions to give. Just you, all your anonymous travel companions, and a flight attendant who will bring you something fizzy in a little cup. Ahhhh… Let’s go.

Sometimes mornings are running dialogues where one of the players has the most lines. The third grader is the star with the second player, her mother, interjecting a few pointers along the way. The thoughts that are most prominent will be repeated, possibly over and over, until they are sufficiently acknowledged and understood. It seems as though this dialogue—which, let’s face it, is really a monologue—takes precedence over all else while the second and more lowly player believes that getting dressed, brushing teeth and eating breakfast are the more worthwhile activities. Sometimes the star of the show recalls Very Important Activities, like saying goodbye to her goldfish, that all of a sudden must be done before she walks out the front door. It is the second player’s job to think and act quickly, assuring the star why the fish will be fine without an adieu.

Eventually the first player carries her monologue-dialogue out the door with her. This morning it was carried into her Papa’s car and what happened there I cannot say, though I certainly can imagine. All the words and important thoughts and stories to tell are sucked out that door with her, like a vortex that leaves silence in its wake. All the flurried energy goes with her and behind her there is great silence that envelopes all the second player’s thoughts like a thick blanket. Quiet, stillness remains.

Soon enough the star will choose different words to express herself. She may share her lines with someone else on most days or perhaps even take them to an internal place to sort out before relying on the second player. I enjoy this thought as I sit in front of my computer with a cup of coffee at hand. Someday these words about little things will become words about big things and they will have power to change the world, a few characters at a time.

…a bouquet of tulips in my kitchen.

Every January I begin sifting through December’s images to find new ones to post. The December Photo Project usually produces a plethora of shots, and since I only post one a day, I like to show the rest when the DPP is over. That being said, this shot was snapped the day after Christmas and therefore was not DPP fodder, but I’m posting it all the same. If you’ve never scrolled through old photos to re-purpose, you should. Today I rolled through about 20 pages on my old Flickr photostream and had a ball walking down memory lane.

I’ve long said Livia reminds me of Jackson Pollack because she’d roll in paint if she could. The physical connection of paint and canvas makes her very very happy.

Our holiday break has been, well, luxuriously quiet and slow. Translation: things are getting boring around here. When Livia asked to do face paints tonight I let her. You can see the results. Some of the paint is so thick she can’t open an eyelid all the way.

Liv wants me to ask blog readers a question: What am I? (I think we played this guessing game once before and she was entertained by it. Have at it!)

Final note. After finding face paint on the floor, walls, several light switches and at least five pieces of clothing and/or towels, Livia’s mean parents have banned the substance from the house for a time. Whew.

We were leaving the hospital after visiting sweet newborn Asher when Livia stopped walking and asked for my little camera. I handed it to her and stepped back to watch her work. She stood in front of a water feature in the lobby and snapped a shot. She leaned way over into the water—camera still in hand—so I quickly pulled her back, put her into position and encouraged another shot.

It was a small moment for sure. We tucked the camera away and continued walking down the long hallway to the parking garage. But man, what a proud moment for this photographer mama. Taking the time to pause our lives to pursue creativity? It doesn’t happen all that often!

As a photographer, I always want to listen to the internal voice that says, Stop, look again, now shoot it. But I think this little lesson goes far beyond photography. It’s a reminder to enjoy life, to soak it in. Decorate a cake, maybe for no reason. Sit down and luxuriate in reading a book instead of being online. Knit something. Build something. Put a new piece of art on your walls. Wear eyeliner instead of just mascara or set the table with your wedding china instead of the stuff from Target. In 2014 I want life to not just be the responsibilities and to-do’s on my checklist; I want it to be the creative cream filling, enjoyed and savored because it is rich and wonderful.

Today we wake up with a child eager to open the presents under the tree. We watch her and claim her excitement as our own. We help tear the gifts from their boxes, cut tags, unwind cords to she can play with the things we’ve given her. We wear silly hats, rush out to the last dregs of snow in the yard to make snowballs with the new snowball maker. We take pictures and smile and then lay on the couch for a Christmas nap. We look forward to ham and potatoes, green beans and another celebration yet to come.

Jesus’s birthday. God incarnate, God come to earth as a tiny baby boy, prepared for an eventual death to free mankind from their sins. This is the reason why our family celebrates of a day of gifts and good food. Jesus! Behind the physical manifestations of a party is this supernatural reason for the party—eternal life with our God, made possible by the perfect life and sacrificial death in our place. Today we celebrate with joy the birth of our Savior knowing full well that we’ll celebrate with grief in a few month’s time his death on our behalf. It’s all more than a little mind-boggling. And it requires faith to see what we cannot see and to listen to God’s whisperings in our hearts.

Praise be to God for the gift of Jesus today. We are grateful. We long for the day we see him again face to face and faith becomes sight.

21 Now I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. Also there was no more sea. 2 Then I, John, saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God. 4 And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”

5 Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” And He said to me, “Write, for these words are true and faithful.”

Revelation 21:1-5

Silent night, holy night,
all is calm, all is bright
round yon virgin
mother and child.
Holy infant, so tender and mild,
sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night,
wondrous star, lend thy light;
with the angels let us sing,
Alleluia to our King;
Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!

God is so good. Welcome to the world, Asher Ambrose Cranford! You are an amazing baby with a wonderful family and we are so glad you arrived safely. I look forward to cuddling you again, darling baby boy.

Congrats, Elaine, Matt, Quincy & Chance!