To see or *not* to see...that is the question...

I've been cataloging two or three years of old photos that I have saved on CDROMs. When you take as many pictures as I do, it is easy to forget about them as they are put away and archived in a neat little closet. So much of my son's infancy and first months I found while digging; now, I can rummage and reminisce as I have neatly cataloged most of my old stuff on a new hard drive. How I love the wonders of technology and external hard drives.

As I browsed through the files, it was very much like rummaging through the attic. I caught myself mumbling things like "I'd forgotten about that" or asking my husband "was he ever really that small (our big toddler boy)?" The whole process reminded me of how easy it is for me to forget the good stuff of life and to get bogged down in the trivialities of today (that closet that still needs organizing, the dishes, etc.).

I find that is true of my spiritual life and relationship with scripture. Sometimes as I stumble across an old story, I am reminded "oh yeah, I forgot about that." Memorial, or in the Greek (anamnesis) is a powerful part of our tradition. It is more than just remembering; it is reliving and embodying the story of those gone before us, those to whom we unite in solidarity and struggle. So little has changed in the way of being human. What has changed and can change is how we see and react to the world around us.

The camera and my pursuit of photography has forever changed the way I see the world. While brave souls like Martin Luther King Jr. have shared their vision and hope and changed the world, I have too often reveled in my explanation of why my glass is half empty. However, in the last decade the camera has helped to see that "hey! at least there is something in the glass! My, how it twinkles in the light! Cool! There are tiny bubbles...." This tiny bit of willingness to see has not only transformed my relationship to the world but to people as well.

Thumbing through old photographs makes me reappreciate the simple beauties of life. I often find my solitude while out walking and taking in the beautiful landscapes around me. Given my predilection for nature, I love this quote from Willa Cather: The miracles of the church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always.

In spite of the negativity that often comes too easy for me, I am intensely grateful that I do occasionally hear and see the glory of God all around me. It comes in simple moments, in bright beautiful colors and in muted mysteries. I pray to grow more attuned to the divine whisper in my soul.