- May 11, 2016
Irony and camera lenses tend to grip me these days. I am learning that sometimes the clearest way to see something is when that something is no longer in focus. See the blur. The haze draws us in and tells us to squint and look closely. It is clarity that has a way of blinding, a way of filling your mind with bright color, but your thoughts with nothing. You do not see it because it has become a part of your eyes, a part of you. We rarely see ourselves. And we rarely see the current season of our lives as a treasure, as a beautiful kaleidoscope image, constantly changing.
About six months ago my husband and I flew across the great Pacific to the US of A–to one of its oldest cities: Charleston, South Carolina. I couldn’t pack very much, but I did pack that kaleidoscope of memories, of images, of the way my body felt against the air of heat and slow, slow down. I have unpacked almost everything we brought. But that kaleidoscope. Even typing these words brings tears. There is so much I miss that weighs down my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
Guam has a color. It is brown like the sand, yellow like the sun, and white like the innards of a coconut. It is the ribboning of all the colors in the rainbow glazed over the sky. And I became that color, a kaleidoscope of a color. Here, I have trouble knowing my place. I do not know my color. Here I am just white, they think. They don’t know about the other colors in me. “You had a great experience.” I am a different person. “You’re waxing lyrical.” Possibly.
Memories flash: my toes plunge into the wet sand, and I feel that connectedness. My heels sink in and the surface massages my arches. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, hoping never to forget. People think that island life must be very isolated and insulated. While that is true in some ways, I always felt that there, on the shore looking out at the blue Pacific water, that there was vastness to my life, a lack of control that I never grasped anywhere else. Grandeur alters perspective.
The locals’ accents run over me, a wave of warmth, a familiar cadence. I will never look like one of them–my skin will tan, but not brown. I will always love anything vintage and English. But their ways, their mannerisms were the hand that offered the awkward girl a dance, a bend, a sway. Barriers crossed and cheeks kissed. Openness.
Many of my images no one else can see. Can you ever take enough photos of everyday, beautifully boring life? Those images are mine, but I did capture a few towards the end to share. I hope these pictures remind us to live and love in large ways wherever we are, because we won’t always be here. We won’t always be here. Love Jesus, love people all around you, and love where you are. Keep your kaleidoscope close and your chin up, sweetheart.
- Feb 2, 2016
It is the surprising nature of grace that I forget. Quick to correctly define grace as being God’s gift, a blessing, undeserved, I look past other aspects. Grace is amazing and it is sobering, but it is also surprising.
Last week Eric and I went on a little excursion to downtown Charleston. We realized that we needed a day out and that we had not taken many pictures since moving here. While I am thankful that my husband enjoys looking at me from behind a camera lens, most days I am a reluctant model. This day was different. We pranced around the “Holy City” full of alluring charm. Reluctant to yet call it ours, we enjoyed being hopeful strangers.
After sharing biscuits at HLB (Hot Little Biscuits) and nearly dying from deliciousness, we walked to the corner of Ann and King Street where Eric hesitated and asked if I wanted to pose again. As I attempted to ‘work it’ without feeling like a weirdo, out of nowhere, I mean nowhere, this woman appeared and charged towards me. I thought she was angry. And then the most amazing thing happened. She popped her hip, looked at the camera, and taught me how to ‘do diva’ Charleston-style.
It was a surprise, and it made me laugh the laugh of letting go. That burst of something within, something unknown that extends to joy–it was like grace. Usually we view the upshot of grace as tears of thanksgiving, as knees bowed in humility. But some days, grace is the catalyst of laughter. Some days, grace is an explosion of your presuppositions, and it throws you into tremendous, tremendous joy. Throw your head back, grab your stomach, and feel the tremors of His love. Let them move you.
Our Father is a steady one, but He is also full of surprise parties.
Keep the Faith,
Audrey Ann When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad. (Psalm 126:1-3)
- Jan 17, 2016
It happens nearly every night as I lay my head on the pillow. Images of our Guam kiddos, images of our sweet boonie dog, and thoughts of what if we never see them again fill my mind. I fight them: No, let me sleep.
Sometimes Eric and I talk of what we miss about Guam. We crank out our accents, and he mocks mine like always. This missing, I see it in the quiet grief in his eyes, in the pained smile when people say (with eyebrows raised), “Guam–for twelve years?!” This and that and most everything we miss about our darling Mariana island. If it is not on our lips, it is a thought lingering. But we must be careful.
In all this missing, may we not miss the beauty around us.
When missing my sweet toddlers, may I not miss the little children at my new church. When missing the Pacific, may I not miss the Atlantic and the lovely homes that make Charleston such a gem. When missing the feeling of home, may I not miss the ever stronger sense that Jesus, that Jesus and Eric are my home.
Missing is only profitable if it encourages me to take in today, to love those I meet today—even if they can’t speak Tagalog, even if they don’t know about Haputo beach or what the word ‘chod’ means.
I am learning new things here—about God, His Word, about the history of Charleston. The culture is rich, full of rustic European beauty, as well as heaviness from the evils of the former slave trade. We talk at church about how to all come together, no matter our amounts of melanin, no matter our backgrounds. Pride and prejudice may have made a good title for a book, but it does not make a good reality.
Wherever you are, do not miss what is going on around you. For if you love Jesus, your purpose is the same, your joy is in Him, and your hope is never-ending. Reminiscing about a former season of your life is good and natural, but still breathe in today. Notice the gifts of today. They may look different, but they are there.
We will not miss the beauty, even in the missing.
