Cartography of the Blind

If an award for World's Most Conflicted Blogger existed, I'd be a shoo-in for first place. The last nine months-worth of snapshots molder away inside the computer, with a scant chance of seeing blogging daylight anytime soon.

They aren't the only thing that's moldering. During the last year, wrinkles have deepened, gray hairs have doubled, and I just feel older, although objectively I know I'm merely middle-aged. I still feel ✨sparky✨half of the time, and I have much for which I am deeply grateful.

But I'm struggling. In the space of a year, the future I took for granted disappeared, and we all discovered that the place in which we intended to dwell never existed.

No good comes of mucking about in the Slough of Despond, but one can lose hope in heartache. People who don't, won't, or can't understand may interpret the sorrow as self-pity or as an overly dramatic response to the commonplace. Children often move far away, grandchildren often are distant, and we often don't see those we love as much as we'd like. The truth is, though, that the commonplace is where deepest joy and sorrow are found-- birth, death, and everything in between. And distance is hard. The ties that bind us to those we love must, of necessity, evolve when distance lies between. Loving someone who lives within easy driving distance is different than loving someone who does not, and it's ignorant of anyone to believe otherwise. 

I've not yet learned how to say goodbye to the common gift of growing relationships in the flesh-- inviting grown children and their families over for dinner, being present for baptisms and birthdays, making impromptu visits to help plant gardens, and reading books to grandchildren while their parents are on a date; all these were assumptions that were never promised but that I never imagined living without. And I don't know how to truly comfort those still here. Mapping out a land unseen is impossible, so I guess we're not supposed to make maps. Are God's lessons always like this?

I write this, of course, recognizing that the sadness of distance is a minor thing compared to the unimaginable circumstances of so many. I also know that those mighty and unimaginable hardships require the Lord to pour unusual amounts of grace onto those who bear them. Our small burden, perhaps, is not due that pouring out of grace but is just something one must learn to carry.

Posting light-hearted commentary on shotsnaps seems dishonest without marking what has great effect on family and friends, but writing anything about it seems wrong, too. In some ways, this is a terrible season for blogging. Who wants to read maudlin posts from the teary-eyed World's Most Conflicted Blogger? Not me. I don't even want to write them. I do want to start catching up on posts eventually, though, mostly to fill in the gaps in what has been our only family album for almost 20 years now. (Ulp. Yes, twenty years. It's no wonder life has me moldering.)

Of course there are good things.
Good things never cease.

I've posted no snapshots of Tim and Annika's beautiful wedding and of their overpoweringly smiley smiles, no artful photographs of daily beauty (because I stopped taking any), no consistent pictures of lovebirds Mildred and Henry (who get married in FOUR WEEKS AND ONE DAY), no snapshots and stories of our goofy and fun little children, no testament to the good days that have brightened the whole, and nearly no pictures of Mallory Mirth, even though she's one of the most delightful babies we've ever loved! I said it about Skylark and then about Ransom, but I was dead wrong. 

Mallory Mirth is the best last baby.

So while I've moved on to speaking of good things and lovebirds and babies...
God gave the best gift to Tim and Annika shortly after their marriage.

Say "hullo, hi, howdy" to Baby Tiger-Fish!!!

 

These pictures from early December make up for the "Mother Buttons Up Daughter's Wedding Dress"pictures I did not get with Annika on her wedding day because I was running around like a lunatic unleashed.  Really, now, how can you top "Middle-Aged Mother Compares Baby Belly to Daughter's?"

And Baby Tigger has only grown since, along with those smiles that can't realistically grow any bigger than they already are. 

Praise God for new life. We are so grateful for this little baby!

(*Obviously all pictures of Annika or Tim&Annika were taken by Tim...or Annika. I stole them all from her texts.)