Project 52: Week 2: Defined

This Project 52 with Sandi Bradshaw is going to be killer. Seriously, killer. I'm going to pushed beyond myself in my creativity, my insight, my eye, and my skill. I'm already having doubts about whether or not I can do this and do it well. 

But why do I have to do it well? I mean, I WANT to do my best but I never live up to my own standards so why do I keep those standards? 

I think they need to be pitched, preferably out the window. 

I do not have to have profound images every single time. 

I do not have to have perfect lighting.

I do not have to have the perfect set up.

I just neeeeeed to let myself be creative. To let myself stretch. Grow. Be pushed. 

And forget about it being perfect. 

So, this week was good for me. 

Our assignment was:

"Black and White Images that show something that 'defines' you in some way...but does NOT include any people. So...something that shows a part of who you are or that is very personally important to you."

An image flew into my mind immediately after reading that. I knew what I wanted. But I had a problem - the shot that I was imagining in my head would be the most amazing if I had a macro lens. I do not. 

::sad face:: 

So, I kept thinking because I wasn't sure how to achieve that original idea without a macro. 

I came up with another and this is the result:

If you know me, this says "Diana" to a T. I mean, LIFE NEEDS COFFEE. 

Hellooooo!

And this image did push me - I researched and read about capturing steam in a picture and what is the best way to do so. 

I don't have a studio with multiple lights I can have go off to create the best backlight, but I worked with what I have and got that image. 

I was pretty pleased with it. 

But it wasn't exactly what I wanted. 

So, last night at 9pm (15 hours left until submission was due) I tried for my original idea. 

I whipped out my flash (which I am not skilled at using yet) and configured my set up and just did it. 

This is my actual submission:

I'm pretty pleased with this as well. 

Not what I wanted entirely. Not what I would have gotten with a macro but it's what first popped into my head when this assignment was given and so I feel it's the "right" choice. 

And hopefully, if you know me, you understand why this image defines me. 

Maybe I'll write more on my "definition" later. :) 

Moodiest of Moods

It's amazing how quickly the change comes. Almost like it blew in with the frigid air when the front door was thrust open. And my heart turns frigid. 

A peaceful moment. A contented conversation. Children laughing, playing, running. 

All too quickly the peace has passed, the contentment has been banished, and I'm growing seeds of bitterness and resentment. I'm caught off-guard by the change in climate. But am I, really? 

I take a moment to sit; to ponder; to wonder; to discuss. 

I realize I have a confession to make. {gulp} 

I like to play the martyr. 

I like to weigh my sacrifices against yours. 

I like to look for those little ways that I may be the one who is sacrificing more, doing more, putting in more effort, scrubbing harder, etc. 

Especially against those in my own house. 

I often welcome pity parties as old friends, here to help me lick my perceived wounds. 

I find myself making lists in my head and counting checks. 

And the seeds are watered.

I dwell on my hurts and nurse them a little too long.

And the seeds sprout.

I speak harshly against the accused. I mutter under my breath, words of ugliness. Or better yet, I withhold all words. 

And the sprouts grow. 

"God, what am I doing?" 

The list pounds in my head, reminding me of my "sacrifices". 

"Lord, do you see? Do you feel the weight I'm carrying?" 

Shhhhhh. 

Child of mine. Listen. 

I stop. I breathe. 

And He gently reminds me ... 

How do I look at this child of mine that you are taking up arms against?

"Really? Oh ... Lord ..."

With love. 

With patience.

With grace.

With forgiveness.

Yes, child.

And He uses His vessels to push me even further.

"So, how do we rid ourselves of this attitude?"

By thanking Him

By turning these pity parties into praise. 

By turning these mis-truths into His truth. 

By not allowing the Evil One in to whisper lies in our ears. 

By believing in pure and honest motives. 

::Sigh::

I am reminded that my pity parties wreak of selfishness. 

My sin is just as bad as another's sin because it's all sin in His eyes. He sees it all as missteps and does not weigh one against the other. 

I do; not Him. 

Turn these seeds of discord into seeds of praise. 

And I am pruned by the Master Gardener. 

He pulls out the weeds of resentment and bitterness that have sprouted in my heart. 

Pour out your heart, child.

Exhale the seeds of sin.  

Breathe in the seeds of praise. 

Praise Him for friends who can slap me out of my selfish thoughts and turn me back to the Lord. 

Praise Him for this life I have and the ones I share it with. 

Praise Him. 

Praise Him for children, even if they don't nap.

Praise Him for this home, even if it's a blessed mess.

Praise Him. 

Praise Him when my heart hurts.

Praise Him when I feel like I carry a heavy load, because I can know He carries it too.

Praise Him.

Praise Him.

Praise Him. 

Praise Him.

The Mounting Pile of Dishes in my Head

I feel like my brain is overwhelmed by thoughts. Thoughts, ideas, convictions, frustrations, prayers, lists, and on and on and on. They have become big piles of dishes in my head. My head is the kitchen and this kitchen is being overtaken by all sorts of piles of dishes.

Some of those piles are dirty. Some are clean. Some are dusty from lack of use. But there they sit, covering all the counters and slowly creeping their way onto every surface imaginable until it seems that there is no room to move or breathe. 

The dirty ones, well there's a few categories within "dirty" itself. 

There are the ones that were just used this morning and only have a few crumbs or a smudge of jelly. They just need a quick wash and they're set. These are the everyday thoughts, the ones that are always present, the ones that get used everyday. 

Did I put the wash in? Did I sweep today? Does Wy have socks on? Did I already change Clara? Etc, etc. 

There are the ones that have some remnant of food crusted on and need to be scrubbed a bit before they're clean. These are the ones that are fairly present as well but that the Lord needs to scrub just a bit every couple days. 

Have I thanked God today? Do I have joy? Am I disciplining consistently without anger? Have I exercised yet this week? Have I told my hunk how much I appreciate him?

Then there are the ones that are really caked with food. The ones that you have to let soak for a good while before even attempting to scrub them clean. 

These are the ones that the Lord really has to work out in me. The ones that need His hand because I can't get them clean on my own. 

These are usually convictions that I haven't ironed out yet - the heavy stuff. Or, more often, they are my struggles - my pride, my laziness, my selfishness. ::Gasp:: Yes, of course I struggle with selfishness. Every.single.day. 

There are clean dishes. 

They've been scrubbed by the Lord and I just need to put them in the cupboard. Filed away, into everyday life. 

And there are dusty dishes. Dishes that have been laid aside or forgotten about or that are only taken out for special occasions. 

The thoughts, ideas, convictions that I have and use but haven't been discussed or brought up for a while. They're there and I love them, I just don't use them every single day. They're special. 

I look at this "kitchen" and feel overwhelmed. Where do I start? How do I even begin to sort through all the dishes that are covering my counters? Can I sort through them all? Oh boy, oh boy. My head. I'm definitely going to need a cup of coffee. 

I guess the answer is: slowly. I can only wash one or two dishes at a time. Dry them and put them away. Then I can move on to a couple more. 

::Deep breath::

I can do this. With the Lord's help. It may take years and I may never be rid of the dishes. They may always linger on my counters, but I think that's how God wants it. He wants me to continue to grow. To wash, dry, and put away. And He wants me to allow Him to scrub the ones that need scrubbing. 

Guess I better start washing!

Words of Wyatt

This is really just for my future reference - when I'm far older and cannot remember the cute things he said when he was 2 ... or 3 ... or 4! 

Alright, who are we kidding? I'll probably forget tomorrow. 

Currently, at 2.5 he uses f's a lot:

"Freakfast"

"fank you"

"Fuffins" (muffins)

"feekadoo" (peekaboo)

It cracks me up every.single.time. 

If I tell him "no" his response right now, "okaaaaaay"

but it's not sassy, it's just held onto and he drops his pitch. It makes me smile.

I will add more as I hear and remember. :)