Death by Reference

A fifteen year old boy from my church died in a tragic accident last week. I didn’t know him personally nor ever had the pleasure of interacting with him since we belong to a rather large church. Yet my husband and I attended the funeral, and the somber atmosphere was felt as soon as I walked into the sanctuary.

I found myself tearing up at several points during the service, and even just sitting quietly, waiting for it all to begin. I wondered why I was so deeply affected during the moments my eyes were welling, despite never having met the boy in the casket outside. In part, I was certainly “weeping with those who wept” as part of my church family. Being part of the family of God means all other Christians are family: brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers. I should feel loss when others lose because of this.

The circumstances reminded me of my grandma’s funeral. She is the closest person to me who has died in my 20+ years of life thus far.  And yet, even at her funeral, the harder part for me was watching my mom cry. I remember my mom viewing her mother–dressed in her favorite color, purple–one last time, laying in her casket.  She cried and hugged my dad’s neck tight.  Seeing this caused me to cry and put a hand on my mom’s arm.  It was harder for me to see my mom losing her mom, and also to think about losing my mom.  As close as my mother was to hers, I’m pretty sure that she and I are yet closer. I couldn’t imagine losing her, and that made me weep even harder.

At this week’s funeral, the youngest brother of the deceased said a few sweet words. I noticed a dear friend blotting away tears as the little boy spoke. I began to drop tears from my eyes too, thinking about her two sons, thinking about the younger having to process through losing his older brother.  Then I began to think about what it would be like to lose someone so close to myself, and I gripped my husband’s knee. He probably didn’t know that’s what caused my tears.

I seem to experience death by referencing losing someone else closer to me than who has really died. I don’t know why. When I write that down, it seems odd, like I’m taking away from the one who is no longer. Yet I don’t know what it’s like to feel that type of loss, and for some reason my mind just begins this referencing, unwittingly.

I’m only in my mid-twenties, and as a friend reminded me recently, the day will surely come that I will be the one experiencing deep, personal loss. A little like, “you’ll understand when you’re older…”  I think that’s true.

Our prayers go out to this grieving family. I long for the day that every tear will be wiped from our eyes.

Glow

I love how the morning light made this photo glow.

As a still pretty newbie photographer, shots like these that have some special aspect just by catching light at the right moment are rare. I don’t have too many. But I really love the way this one turned out. Again, this shot is SOOC except for a tiny bit of sharpening. I wanted to leave it as is because, well, it isn’t often that I can do that.

Peony Petals

The wedding shower in my hometown last weekend was a success. The bride was all aglow. It was a joy to see my dear friend smiling, eating good food, and getting to spend time with friends she hasn’t seen for a long time. 

My sweet sister-in-law (who has recently begun a blog of her own!) gave the bride a lovely green vase as her shower gift.  In her typical creative-thoughtful fashion, instead of wrapping the gift she filled the vase with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and set it in the middle of the table. The bride got to enjoy the vase immediately as it fulfilled its intended purpose holding lovely blooms.

The peonies were so beautiful and fragrant, we couldn’t stop smelling them! The peony has been one of my favorite flowers for some time, but they are not always easy to find. Having access to some that weekend, I had to steal one for an early morning photo session the day after the shower. The light was perfect that morning, and my parents’ new white rocking chairs provided a nice backdrop.

I decided to leave the photos pretty much straight out of camera, only sharpening a couple the tiniest bit.

Monet said that he owed becoming a painter to flowers. Perhaps I can say the same concerning photography. I just can’t seem to keep my lens away from them…

Paper Flower

I really love flowers.

Even fake ones! I think I have a disease.

Clicking the photo above will take you to the tutorial where I learned how to make these cute little things. I found it right in time for traveling to my hometown this weekend. I’m throwing a bridal shower for my best friend from high school who’s getting married in July.  I’m going to make a few of these for fun and just throw them around the desserts, appetizers, drinks, and gifts for decoration. She likes hand-made things so I hope she’ll like them!

These buds are so simple. You really just cut out a spiral of paper and curl it around a pencil or Q-tip, or in my case, a pointer finger.

Simple creativities like these make me smile.

That Time of Year

…When inspiration seems to run dry. Midterms ate up much brain space, and though they’ve passed, in their allotted places remain dingy unproductivity where imaginative blog posts could have once originated.

*Sigh*

So all I have to offer is more flower photos. I never tire of taking them. The day before my husband returned home from overseas, my ranunculuses gave their last bit of oxygen and bid us farewell. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a flower die so prettily. It was my last day’s stay at friends’ before receiving my travel-weary husband the next evening, and the light in their kitchen wouldn’t relent calling my name, beckoning me to photograph something in it. Even on dreary, rainy Saturday the dying, wilting blooms looked beautiful.

The antique teal (!) mason jars really helped their expiring situation. Don’t you think?

Traveling Ranunculi

• As my husband begins to round off his travels overseas, I travel across town to stay with some friends for the remainder of his time away. (It’s ‘cause I’m ascareda thee dark, as my youngest brother used to say.)
• Not really. 
• But kinda.

• Trader Joe’s had these beautiful Ranunculi (or Ranunculuses) for sale, which I snatched up at the very sight of them. The texture of their layered petals is beautiful. God is an artist.
• I bought the bouquet the day before I crossed town without considering that I’d have less than 24 hours to enjoy them. So I brought them with me to the home of my gracious hosts.
• Ranunculus. Literally means “little frog.” Hm. Not sure if I see the frog connection. Though the name is a bit odd, it’s surely an exquisite flower. 

ra-nun-cu-lus |rəˈnə ng kyələs|noun ( pl. -luses or -li |-ˌlē; -ˌlī|)  

“A temperate plant of a genus that includes the buttercups and water crowfoots, typically having yellow or white bowl-shaped flowers and lobed or toothed leaves. Genus Ranunculus, family Ranunculaceae: many species, including several garden ornamentals.”

• I continued to glance at the lovely blooms as my friend and I ate salad for lunch together in her kitchen.
• Then I got distracted when she told me she eats a salad every day.
• Quietly nibbling my butter lettuce, I didn’t mention that I eat a York Peppermint Patty every day. I call it:  The Nanny Diet.
• Anyways.
• The ranunculus, though not a very fragrant flower, seems to grow more beautiful each day as its blossoms open.

“I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.” -Claude Monet

• I find myself wishing to photograph flowers often, and so understand his sentiment.