i once heard a mother describe her minivan as “a disaster preparedness kit on wheels.” hilarious! my car is really more like a snack truck that swallowed a briefcase that swallowed a sporting goods store.

it puzzles me that today’s reality project  submission is the first one that involves a vehicle.

the picture below is from erica, who assures us that this is the most organized view of her car. she writes, “it almost looks pretty. no one should be deceived into thinking that my other spaces ever look this organized! the back seat truly needed to be shoveled out to get rid of food wrappers, kids’ shoes, baby blankets and other random crap. the front passenger side is no better.”

thanks for the shovel idea, erica. i’m going to try that in my back seat.

the beauty of this mess is that every aspect of erica’s life (with the exception of her husband) is represented.

“from the left: the lovely colorful cooler that transports milk for my baby boy on days when i’m at work and he’s at daycare; underneath it, the ancient breast pump that i received as a hand-me-down and may well be on it’s third or fourth baby; my blue camera case, necessary for a pivotal day in my daughter’s life; my fancy bike messenger bag with official work-related things sticking out, like books, files, pens, notebooks, and my laptop; one of my daughter’s rain boots peeking out from underneath; a pile of children’s books needed for a meeting with a fellow pastor so that we could use them to write a up a summer sunday school curriculum; underneath that pile, a plastic crate filled with all the little bits and pieces that were in my daughter’s preschool cubby; and poking out of the top of that pile, a bug catching-net that was an end-of-the-year gift from my daughter’s preschool teachers.”

thank you, erica, for taking reality on the road. and happy bug-catching!

there’s a little book on my shelf called present moment, wonderful moment by spiritual teacher thich nhat hanh. on every page, there’s a short meditation encouraging readers to live life in the present moment. ordinary activities like hand-washing, teeth-brushing, tea-drinking and laundry-folding are re-framed as potential moments of prayer and gratitude.

next to that book sits my camera, a birthday gift from my husband that truly has revolutionized the images i’ve been able to capture of my kids, who are growing up like little weeds before my very eyes. only, let’s be real. my camera is never just sitting on the shelf these days beside a book about meditation. it has quite the social calendar, filled with walks, vacations, picnics, holiday gatherings, dates with the charger, and hook-ups with my hard drive. 

the problem is, now when i am out enjoying glorious spring weather with my family, and the monkey settles into a posture of rare stillness under a tree and beside a lake, for example, i have two conflicting voices that battle it out in my head. thich nhat hanh says, “live fully into this present moment. use it as a prayer for thanksgiving.” on the other hand, that old kodak commercial asserts itself with the push to drop everything and run for my camera. since i cannot laminate my children and preserve these precious years for all eternity, i feel the need to at least capture moments here and there. poor thich nhat hanh. i rarely ever listen to him.

in their book, i was a really good mom before i had kids, trisha ashworth and amy nobile write, “…our children…look to us to figure out how to enjoy their own lives, to decide what’s valuable in their days. do you want your children to think of a rainbow as a photo op or do you want them to learn how to pause and appreciate the beauty that’s before them right now” (161)?

ashworth and nobile make a good point. i want my children to be able to enjoy beauty without having to take it home or own it or freeze it in a still frame. on the other hand, my dabblings in photography have also actually helped me to look more closely at the intricate harmony in the natural world. with camera in hand, i’m much more likely to lie down in the cool grass to see something from a different angle or notice how much sweeter a sunset is with a little blond monkey curl in the foreground. i want my children to embrace this way of seeing as well.

but what i’ll probably end up passing along to the next generation is the tension i feel between capturing moments and living them. in a world filled with such beauty, surely this befuddlement is all part of experiencing the awe. it makes me sad to think that someday, the monkey won’t remember how to stand under a brilliant tree next to a lake and smile at the wonders of nature. but maybe then he’ll do as i have done, and let the camera lead him back into the way of appreciation.

[my sister-in-law is the subject of the first picture in this post. she shares the tension i describe above, and the two of us are often mistaken for tourists at family gatherings. also, the sources for this post can be found on the bibliography page located on the sidebar to your right.]