Hooray! I did it!
I met my goal to publish at least one photo per week for an entire year. As it turned out, taking the pictures was not the actual challenge, but narrowing them down and editing them was. During busy seasons, I did not always get them posted “on time”, and I even missed publishing one in September that I finally posted recently (whoops). There were a few weeks when I questioned my sanity in committing myself to such a long term project when I had so many other things on my plate. Overall, though, I enjoyed the project and it accomplished what I was hoping, which was to get myself back into the swing of blogging on regular basis.
Some of you may remember that this project also included a challenge for myself to read through the Bible in a year. In full disclosure, I must admit that I did not quite meet this goal, but only made it about three-quarters of the way through. Around Thanksgiving, I realized that I was not likely to get it done, and was feeling rather discouraged by my failure—but I received some sweet encouragement from a sister in the Lord, who reminded me that while a 365-day goal was great, the real point was to simply read the Bible! She’s right. I’m grateful that the reading program got me into some sections of the Bible I hadn’t touched or thought about in a while, and I look forward to continuing on and finishing it in the upcoming year. After all, I don’t have to abandon the project simply because we’ve flipped the calendar to 2023!
I always enjoy these first few weeks of the New Year to look back and reflect on what has happened in our lives, before considering what my goals and projects should be for the next. It was fun to review all those 52 posts from start to finish, a literal photographic journey through my year, with all the experiences I shared with you, as well as all the ones that I didn’t and reserved to ponder in my own heart. I narrowed them down even further in the collage below, so you can enjoy a quick recap with me!
God was good to me in 2022. He blessed me with many beautiful experiences and valuable friendships new and old, but also allowed trials that have kept me from any hope of prideful self-sufficiency or reliance, always patiently prodding me from complacency to growth. I am thankful for all of this. Looking forward, I’m planning on going back to a more organic blogging pace in 2023, but with a fun new venture or two in mind. Stay tuned!
“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits… (Psalm 103:1-5)
In some places in the country, I’m seeing pictures of blossoming peach orchards, daffodils and greening grass. On the first day of spring here, it snowed in the morning—and then a bitter wind spent the rest of the day kicking all that snow up into the air in great billowing clouds, forcing us to plow the driveway due to drifting. If you live here, too, you’re not surprised or alarmed. It’s a typical Minnesota weather move.
Much as we’d sometimes like it to be, spring just isn’t a day on the calendar for us. It’s no short, sweet announcement. Instead, it’s a slow thing, that creeps up, teases, eludes. But still, watching spring unfold, painfully slow but sure, gives me hope—which is something we all need a little bit more of right now.
W
I didn’t get out to walk as much as I normally like to this winter. And for the first time in years, I didn’t even touch my skis, because by the time I got through postpartum recovery and felt up to getting on them again, the snow drifts were being measured in feet, not inches. Even you avid skiers know how daunting breaking a trail through that is!
But circumstances are never an excuse for failing to find joy.
And I learned to really savor few opportunities I did have to snap a photo. These were taken while…
There are a lot of parallels here to the strange times we’re living in right now. A pandemic is weird, strange and scary, and we’re all feeling the effects of it one way or another. We’re chafing because we can’t go places when we want to. We’re missing people and faces and fellowship. We’re disappointed at cancellations and postponements. We miss the days when you didn’t feel like you were hazarding your life and everyone else’s every time you walk into the grocery store. We’d really like to have a normal conversation again that didn’t contain the words mask, CDC or quarantine.
Normal life will return eventually, but while you’re waiting, don’t miss the unique gifts and blessings that God may have for you during this pandemic. When we look back on 2020 in years to come, let’s be grateful that we learned new good lessons and lived this strange and memorable year well, instead of regretful that we spent it chafing for it to end.
And not-so-exciting old things—
And not so fun new things—
“
Everyone around here seems to have spent the last couple months and weeks waiting eagerly for the ice to break up. And by “everyone around here”, I mean us and our feathered neighbors.
Perhaps the best thing about winter is that you don’t have to wake up in the wee hours to watch the sun rise. For instance, you can roll out of bed at the usual time, spend half an hour bundling yourself up, stumble your way around the pre-dawn perimeter of an unfamiliar hotel building, risk life and limb to bump your way in sitting position down the steep bouldered bank to the shore—and still make it in time to watch the entire show at leisure.
The wind off the big lake was so surprisingly mild for December, and the sound of the rhythmic waves so pleasant, I found a non-icy log to perch on and paused from my photography long enough to pull out my phone and find my Bible reading plan for the day. And this, totally unplanned by me, was what popped up:
It was like God whispering into the stillness of the dawn that these photos I was taking were really pictures of Him.
As I picked my way back along the sun-kissed shore, pondering this, I looked up and spotted a different trail up the bank. It was a safer, gentler route, one that I couldn’t see in the unfamiliar, un-mapped darkness, the way I should have taken on my way down. I headed up, the sun warm on my back, relieved to walk confidently and upright instead of clambering awkwardly.
Rejoicing Hills 