Dwelling in Eden

When you look at the world, what do you see?

Photographers are known for having a "good eye". But what does that mean? Is it something you're born with? Is it something you learn? 

I've discovered that when I'm carrying a camera, I'm expecting to see beauty. It's something of a treasure hunt. Finding it comes more easily to some than to others, but we can train ourselves to look. There is much that is not beautiful to distract us, that is certain. Where will we focus our gaze? 

It's as much a mindset as a way of using our eyes or the camera--a photographer's eye is anchored in hope.

I've just finished my first ten years as the owner of a photography business. I remember my trepidation like it was yesterday. Would my offerings be worthy of payment? So many others did it so well, had so much experience, and those who would hire me had lives and stories worthy of a highly skilled professional. But here's the thing: they picked me. I will never quite get over that. And their stories live on in the photos that spark the memories. 

I have seen my photos of people on walls, on invitations, in books, on giant posters, at parties. And at funerals. I'm so grateful for the many sweet connections I've been able to capture between loved ones while there was still time. While they were still small. Before they moved on to the next chapter, or the life beyond. It all feels like a sacred trust. 

All this time, since long before I started my business, I've been developing my photography skills, including my "eye". It really helps to know what to look for, what gear and settings you need to capture it, how to position yourself, how to frame it. But before any of that matters, you have to decide what world you're going to live in.

Here's what makes the difference for me: I choose Eden. 

In the beginning of the Genesis account, God affirms the goodness and beauty of every part of his creation. His delight is palpable--he thought of everything, there is more than enough to go around! As the story moves forward, humans choose to create their own versions of what's good for them over partnership with God in the world he envisioned, but wherever he finds a willing soul, he invites them join him in cultivating new life, Eden style.

Dwelling in Eden is a conscious choice to call God's creation good--to seek out evidence of it everywhere, and nurture it to grow and multiply. For me, it's most naturally done with a camera. Here's to another ten years of looking for signs of glory, in the earth and its creatures, and the humanity that God loves. I guarantee you I will find them. My photos are my thank you notes, and my invitation to others to join me.

Consider yourself invited!

"Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens,

your faithfulness to the skies.

Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains,

your justice like the great deep. 

O Lord, you preserve both man and beast.

How priceless is your unfailing love!

Both high and low among men 

find refuge in the shadow of your wings.

They feast on the abundance of your house;

you give them drink from your river of delights.

For with you is the fountain of life;

in your light we see light."

Psalm 36:5-9

It always snows in October

Dismal foreboding.

I popped onto my Facebook feed this morning, and it was everywhere.

Well not everywhere, it was from my local friends, the metro-area Minnesotans, announcing the arrival of snow that would soon reach my neighborhood.

Two years ago on October 14, a photo session had me driving through the countryside, where I witnessed the most magical snow-on-colored leaves scene, knowing it would be melted by the time I met my client.  I recorded the video in my mind, knowing there would be other October snows.  Last year?  First flakes, October 13.  Same story.

Today?  Clear schedule.  When I heard the communal moan, I had a few minutes to get my stuff together, choose a location, and dash out the door feeling like one who dances on graves.  But not sorry.

People seem surprised and appalled every year when October snow comes.  Why?  Because it's melted by noon, and they forget it's even a thing, so by the next year it seems impossibly early and ominous.

We seem a little more testy yet this year, like if one more thing happens we didn't foresee, that will be the one that puts us over the edge.

We have had life this summer.  Gatherings outside, dinner on patios, "safely distanced" time with friends.  If ever we were not ready for winter, this is the year.  We feel like it might leave us undone and alone.

When I heard the Facebook outcry, I also heard the voice of God (well not audibly, but experientially) saying, "I'm about to do some serious showing off if you'd care to join me for it."

It's a voice I've heard in the Bible--

"Do not be afraid."

"I am with you always."

"Be still and know that I am God."

A voice I've experienced as reliably as snow in October.

These are times of foreboding around us.  I wonder if maybe God has some ideas up his sleeve that we haven't thought of.  

Honestly, I'm counting on it.  Remind us, Lord, that you have always delighted to show up between rocks and hard places.  Though it's something we never seek, when October snow comes, it's breathtaking.

We believe, Lord.  Help our unbelief.

 

A Place Like Home

On the second (and last) day of our mini-vacation, we went to a place that I've loved forever.

I wrote about it years ago, and it remains true--

I somehow get reunited with part of my heart whenever I visit Gooseberry Falls.

Not only the falls, but just as importantly, the path down to the lake and beyond. 

Oh my, we have some good memories there.

I figured we would be ahead of the peak of fall leaf color, 

but I didn't realize how amazing the wildflowers would be.

As I always say, here's to the late bloomers!

Lee wanted a photo of me in my happy place.

We zipped through Duluth, 

a place that actually was home for me, once upon a time.

Now it's mostly all under construction.

The seagulls don't care.  Thankfully some things never change.

Last stop was Enger Tower, the place to really see the harbor and the rest of the world.

This is just the tiniest taste of the views.  The grounds around the tower are also stunning.

This year 2020 has thrown all of us a lot of curve balls.

I'm so thankful that when it began, 

when the anticipation of the grandest adventure (the one we didn't go on) was beginning to build,

I wasn't wishing away my year thinking this one dream trip would make my whole year worth living.

 I'm quite capable of doing that. But I didn't.

Many years ago I realized this verse wasn't a get rich quick scheme.

It's a promise from God,

 a promise that he can actually satisfy me regardless of my circumstances.

He can enable me to want his presence more than anything--

so that in disappointments, I'm not coming away empty-handed, but hand-held.

He frees me to find him in every kind of moment,

and know that he is what my heart really wants, above all.

The View From Here

"Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans."

~Allen Saunders

In March I was filling out our passport applications, when the world stopped turning. Or so it felt. 

If we hadn't cancelled our reservations, we would be leaving this weekend 

for a dream trip that I hope to write about--and photograph!--in a year or two. 

But since we aren't even promised tomorrow, we decided to do what we could--

which was return to a place that feels like home, to enjoy the view from here. 

You know, our other itinerary seemed a lot more spectacular while we were planning, but this one?

Not too shabby.  I would do some legitimate traveling to come here, if I had to.

So here it is, not the itinerary of our dreams, but the itinerary of our means, northern Minnesota and Wisconsin.  

First up, Wisconsin, Pattison State Park. Home of Big (and Little) Manitou Falls, the highest waterfall in Wisconsin! It's just outside Superior. Look at that, it's their 100th anniversary year! Glad we could celebrate with them.  

You know what makes for a great getaway?  This guy.  Wherever.  Doesn't matter.

He even carries a camera for me and shoots too. That's love. He makes me smile.

Waterfalls also make me smile.

Next up a bit of the scenic route beyond Duluth and up the shore.

The north shore.  

Of Lake Superior.

Not a bad scenic overlook, just after the Silver Cliff Creek tunnel!

If you know the shore, you know Gooseberry Falls is next, but the lot is FULL,

full of vehicles from all over the country.

Our secret is out guys.

So on to the Split Rock lighthouse.  Pretty manageable crowd here.

Obligatory hike to the bottom so you can say that you're not old yet. Ahem.

Quick stop at Black Beach.  It's hopping. 

End of the line for the day is Palisade Head.

(a.k.a. Hellacious Overlook, apparently. News to me.)

Here's what's going on.

This is why we never make it farther up the shore.

You feel like it really couldn't get any better.

Back to Two Harbors in time for sunset.

And feeding time.

And sleep.

The rest of the story is coming soon.

Until then, I'm reminding myself (pretty much daily)

to focus not so much on what I can't do,

but on what I can do.

The view from here is pretty good.