DAY 11: BEFORE WE GET STARTED

This morning, I talked to a new client on the phone. She asked me to take pictures of her parents for their 50th wedding anniversary. Now, I do not label myself a Photographer by any stretch. I know who I consider to be true "Photographers" and I do not fall anywhere close, so I don't give myself the title and cringe when other people label me as such. I studied mostly old school, black and white photography in college and would spend entire days locked in a darkroom  (one of my most favorite places in the entire world) processing film and printing pictures. I left school early, though, for various reasons, one of which being that I realized if I wanted to have a career in photography I would need to really sell my work...sell myself. The thought of yelling "pick me, pick me!" still is far too scary and doesn't interest me in the least. One of the appeals of photography is being able to hide behind the camera and secretly capture those things I see as beautiful, even if nobody else sees them that way. I also get to help people capture memories of their loved ones and that is quite a humbling gift. It's a quiet place, a safe place. A safe place that becomes not so safe when I put a price on my work. So, if asked, I take pictures for a few friends and others here and there for a small fee. I don't chase work, it usually finds me cowering in a corner trying to convince it to ask someone else. 

After finishing the phone conversation this morning, the insecurity began. It's always there, really, but it flares up a bit more when the pressure is on. Like water being in a teapot lying dormant until the heat is on. I haven't even met these people, but I'm already critiquing myself and fearing an unhappy outcome. This isn't the only area of my life where the critiquing happens. It's easy to allow the voice in my head, the one I think knows me best, to remind me again why I shouldn't even bother trying, why I'll never be anything worthwhile. It gives me another valid reason for not taking the risk and I listen. Why is it that this is the voice that I listen to so often? Why should it get stage time and be allowed to suck the energy, the joy, and the very life out of me?

Even in typing these words I realized that the voice in my head is NOT the one that knows me best. Why? Because the voice inside only sees things from my perspective. It may know my shortcomings, my past failures, my fears, my deepest desires, my quiet tears, but it can't see the whole picture of my life. Only God can do that. He can see my life from start to finish. He can see what I was created for, the lives He has ordained for me to touch in some small way. He can see my shortcomings and fears and knows exactly what I can handle. He can see those things I see as past failures in the context of my whole life and knows how those may have helped me change course to be right where I am today. He sees my deepest desires and longs for me to make His desires for me my own. He sees my quiet tears and is right there beside me in every moment. Why isn't it His voice that I listen for? Why isn't He the one I run to first? Sometimes I'm afraid to hear Him, what He might say. Not because I think His words will be ones of anger, but because I'm afraid they'll be what I know they'll be, words of love and encouragement. He would tell me that I'm His daughter, that I'm beautiful, that He loves me more than I could ever know, and it would be hard to believe Him, because I don't think I'm worthy of such love. And I'm not. But He loves me anyways. Without condition. Without fail. It's not about me, it's about Him. 

If only His was the voice that I listened to when the critiquing started. If only His was the strength I relied on when my fear is overwhelming. If only His were the arms that I fell into when I feel utterly defeated before even starting. I hope that I reach a point in my life where this is commonplace. Until then, it's worth working towards. Do you ever feel the same way? 

Anatomy of a Playlist

Meet Fred. He is the oldest of our Middle Earthlings at a whopping 8 and 3 quarters years old. I mention Fred, because he and I took a drive to the vet's office this morning so that he could have his teeth cleaned. Fred has had more visits to the dentist than I have since I got my braces off in 1997, which is impressive since he wasn't actually born until 2002. Lucky boy! He would disagree. Fred has a bit of a split personality. He's a lover at home. He loves a good nap, and by love, I mean he understands and respects the deep layers of brilliance and reverence that naps deserve, like I do. He's playful and, when he wants to, he'll actually fetch his toys when you throw them to him. But at the vet's office, he's what they call a "Hugs and Kisses Kitty". That little phrase stands in for one big four letter word, "RAGE". Oh yes! I can't really blame him. I mean, it must be frightening to go into an office filled with other animals that you've pretty much only seen from the living room window and have strangers poke you with needles and such. Like people, each animal handles the fear differently. Our girl, Merry, will purr, especially if she's with Mr. N., and remind the doctor and the staff of just how enchanting she really is. Pippin tends to embrace the fear and channel his anger into a rigid body, toothless hiss, and taco rolled tongue. He looks like a cobra ready to strike. It's pretty impressive, actually. Anyways, while Fred and I were in the car, I turned on my ipod and chose my favorite play list to calm his nerves. 

My favorite play list is entitled "Little Miss Sunshine" after the Richard Hargreaves children's book with a little bit of Alan Arkin, from the movie titled the same, thrown in. It's compiled of my most favorite songs. Not the ones that are just enjoyable, mind you, but the ones that make me feel AMAZING (thanks, dude!). The songs that I actually hope will come up next and start a mental dance party during (the only place I look good dancing. *tear). This play list is kind of like an explosion of 1940's big band meets The Swell Season with bits of shrapnel from the Steven Curtis Chapman mullet days, Mumford and Sons, and my favorite Christmas music. It's like a diet cherry coke with crushed ice and tater tots on a hot summer day. It has soothing properties. Fred seemed to calm down as soon as "Footloose" came on. I'm not sure he was visualizing Kevin Bacon dancing the same way I was, but that's his loss my problem okay. 

After a quick Starbucks run, my mind wandered from how difficult it is to drop my sweet boy off for the day every single time I have to, to how scary it is for both of us, to fear, to risk, to needing to be in control, to getting my hopes up, to that SNL skit of Will Ferrell singing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" Lawrence Welk Show style and projectile vomiting (Andy William's version is in my play list for that very reason). Doesn't taking risks feel like that sometimes?! There's so much excitement and anticipation that seem to wrap us up in the festive sweater and turtleneck of a 1950's holiday special, but there's also the intense anxiety and projectile vomiting in realizing that we may fail, we may lose, we may have our hopes dashed again, we may not be in control of what happens next, and knowing that we really have no idea what the bleep is going on. All the what-ifs. A friend of mine recently gave a new clarity to a very familiar verse. "Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things." Philippians 4:8 She focused on the word "True" and said that the things we worry about, the what-ifs that we blow to king-sized proportions, the futures we worry about, all of those things are not truths. Yes, it's good to be cautious sometimes, to be informed, and to make the proper preparations for our futures, but creating scenarios of what could be, or what we think should be, means that we're creating an imaginary world of sorts for ourselves and not focusing on what we know to be true, namely that God has everything under control. From Fred's vet visit, to which job He has just around the corner for us, to when we'll meet our future spouse, or be given the gift of a child, to how we'll pay next month's rent, to the state of our country....He knows it all. It doesn't make the waiting any easier, it doesn't always bring clarity, nor does it take away the fear and anxiety of not understanding His timing or His ways, but we know that He hears us, He grants us grace in each difficult moment, and will keep us going. Sometimes it's about the faith of stepping out, sometimes it's about the faith of staying back, and sometimes it's just about the faith of taking our fears, our worries, our frustrations, our hopes, our dreams and laying them before Him admitting that we're at a loss. Turning towards Him rather than away from Him in the tough times.


It really is a process. I guess it's good that I have a swinging soundtrack on this crazy journey. =]


"....Everybody cut footloose....."!