The Honesty of a Child

I'll take it..

I am taking my sweet time with another story but wanted to hop on with a note of vulnerability.

Every few weeks my grandson and I have a traditional popcorn and movie date at our home. I’ve noticed in these last few weeks, since he turned five, just how honest he is. There are stories and things he says that “literally” (his new word) make us roll with laughter.

Yesterday, we were driving in my car, after school, for our date. He knew I had plans to take a few pictures of him in his Vans shoes with matching Vans trucker cap to mark his 5th year but he was very uncertain about it saying that the last time I took pictures (Christmas pictures with his family) it was “really boring Nana.” As I just about choke-laughed while driving I said I was sorry he was bored but it was a gift to have pictures to look back on, just like when he sees pictures of his mama and dad when they were little. You could see the wheels spinning in his head.. I furthered this with how art, in general, is a gift from God and talked about how he, Asher, painted a picture for us that we treasure, framed on our shelf.

My point is, how refreshing is it to be around such honesty? I know as parents we often correct our children, trying to teach the art of finesse, yet I find in the climate we live in today that honesty and truth telling are at the root of living well and free. Not compromising yourself by becoming small and influenced.

With that said, I have hardly picked up my cameras in these last few years. To be honest, I have had a tremendous amount of anxiety for the things that I once was. I didn’t want to take pictures of anyone anymore, even children. My most natural state is with children. I am still a photographer at heart but I gave everything I had to it. I loved completely through my lens and then it shattered. I have turned down inquiries to work and focused solely on my physical challenges, for the first time in my life. My pain finally came in handy as a disguise for emotional pain. I’m still there and still trying to overcome. Being the elephant in the room with no voice has lead to a door marked “depression” that weighs down my body, stops me in my tracks, and beckons me to lie down.

I always had a certain amount of anxiety for big jobs, prior to working them, and I know that’s because I cared so deeply. My greatest joy was to photograph my own family when they asked me to, even covering family events for extended family. I covered vow renewals for my children’s inlaws and parties and felt like I was part of a bigger family that I had always craved. I never thought that the one thing in the whole world I loved doing would become a dead weight.

I worked at the beach the other evening with a dear old friend and walked away thanking God for the opportunity to overcome my anxiety, but honestly I didn’t want to do it. I’d be perfectly content to close the doors to the closets of my equipment for a long time, but then I pushed through, drove in the worst traffic and lifted my camera again. When I was done I felt like a kid who received a big warm hug and walked away with that familiar exhuberance I had felt for over 20 years of working. I wondered when the next wave of sadness would hit. How do I tell some of my family and friends, that still ask, that I am compromised and hurting? Can I do it again? I understand emotional pain and the complexities that people face on a much deeper scale now. I don’t question it.

For years I have had arthritis in my shoulders and neck, along with a few bad accidents, that have rendered my knees ripped up and bone to bone, my pelvic bone is loose and my low back has two crushed discs. I went into the pandemic diagnosed with a heart condition. I sound like a mess but I have put up with pain for most of my life and staying down just keeps you down. I learned this method of madness from my dad. Madness because it still hurts physically.

Pushing through my art has helped me stay standing, despite, and now I have the emotional pain added into the one thing that was mine to love and mine give away.

There is no pain in the landscape or nature. I trust it.

The devil comes to steal, kill and destroy. Satan loves pain, division and despises truth. I am not of this world and all of it’s games, stonewalls and lies. I fall short because I expect so much more of myself and of others.

It’s time to grow an army of truth-seekers. We need to look up, look around, communicate better, speak fearlessly, tell the truth, and agree to disagree. It could lift a spirit at the least and save a life at the most.

“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32