Lessons in the everyday

Every writer has their “thing”…a certain style that they use repeatedly throughout their works. I’ve struggled with this, because I’d love to be truly in the minds of my characters like Stephen King, or perceptive like Jodi Picoult. I’ve come to realize that my particular style is more suited to the mundane. I’ll never be a bestselling author, having my writings read by millions. I’ve also realized that sometimes, a large audience does not necessarily mean success, and we can accomplish great things in small ways.

My writings are almost always about the lessons in the everyday. I am always looking for ways to explain life lessons by using everyday objects or situations that will be easy for my audience to understand. In doing so, I hope that they will gain an appreciation for the more difficult topics, and come to understand these, as well.

For instance, I explain the stock market using a can of tuna as a visual. If you buy a can of tuna for $1, and then there is a huge tuna shortage and it’s in high demand, selling for $5 a can, have you gained anything really? No, because you have not sold your can of tuna. If you find someone to sell it to for $5, then you gain $4. If the price of tuna drops significantly for some odd reason, have you lost money? Not unless you actually sell your can of tuna. You get the idea.

I walk the dog early in the morning, which is getting darker and darker every day. I am always on the lookout during these walkabouts for a photo opportunity in the neighborhood. I am always watching for that one shot that will be different and exciting. It fascinates me how light is such a part of everything that we do and see, and how it falls is particularly interesting.

I’ve noticed, for instance, that our driveway is flat and boring in the daylight. It is paved, with about six feet of gravel between the paving and the actual road. It looks like rocks. But in the darkness, with only house lights to shine on it, you begin to see striations.

This morning, it was also flooded with rainwater, filling the gaps with water that reflected the light. I saw for the first time that there are actually horizontal grooves in the rocks. I stood and pondered it for a few minutes, wondering what would have caused such wear on the rocks. We drive in vertically, of course, tires rolling forward in a straight path – nothing that would cause these long crosswise troughs. The driveway was not smoothed by the graders, which may have left these grooves. I’m really not sure how it has happened.

Of course, I saw life lessons here.

First, I marveled at how we can see something that is so common as to escape our interest, suddenly turned into a topic of great wondering. Simply by the light that is shed upon it. It is like this with any great truth. We see it a hundred times, never noticing the detail. And then one day, it is illuminated from another angle, and there it is. It is suddenly very clear to you, even though when you look back a few minutes later, it might not be so. You have to capture that picture, commit it to memory.


It also made me think of politics, and how differently we can see things, one from another. Something that is so inherently RIGHT to us may seem darn near evil to someone else, depending on how they are looking at it. I have this wonderful, beautiful, sensitive cousin that stands on the “other side” of the political fence from me. I love to talk with her, because she always sheds new perspective on any issue. It’s not that I’m right and she’s wrong – or even the other way around. It’s merely a matter of seeing things from a different point of view. Like the driveway, an issue that has always been a smooth, easy path may suddenly appear to have missing pieces, or deep grooves that need to be explained.


Because I have lived with a depressed mind for all of my life, I also had to smile at how it mimics our lives. Day to day, we don’t see the things that make up the big picture. We see the individual rocks, layers of tiny pebbles piled upon one another. Worn smooth by time, friction, and laid low by the slow, steady crushing afforded by the wheels of the cars that travel along our path. Then, one day, we look behind us and see that the path is not as smooth and uneventful as we imagine. There are patterns of behavior that emerge over time, leaving indelible designs on our lives.

I know that I have quirks and personality traits that have been hewn by the stressors that I have been dealt. Some of these are merely a mention in the story of my life, as they do not affect my eternal salvation one way or another. Some, however, can cause ruts that trip me up from time to time. Overcoming these unnatural grooves is the key to a fulfilling life, despite the ravages of this earthly life.

That is where the rainwater comes in, filling in the channels. Smoothing out the rough edges. I have to guess that this is what the Atonement is all about. It’s up to us to identify our flaws and seek to make them as smooth as possible. Christ will then flood us with His love to fill in the gaps.

It’s a lovely thought, considering my disdain for water. But that’s a story for another time.

What lessons have you learned in your everyday today?

Wish. Wonder. Believe.

This is probably one of my all time favorite pics that I’ve taken! It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and I was out walking the dog. The sun was hitting the neighbor’s yard in just such a way as to light up the dew, like tiny little diamonds sprinkled across the lawn. When I moved closer to snap a picture, I realized that this single dandelion, gone to seed, stood tall and proud.

As I focused on the dandelion, I pondered on what this might mean. I saw some significance to the ‘gone to seed’ part of the photo, as I was feeling pretty seedy at that time, myself! But I was also on the verge of coming out of the dark, and I loved the sparkling points of light that blurred behind the central figure. I imagined that the lights were the cheering crowd, urging the dandelion on to it’s next life. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

I posted the picture to our family website, and asked them to give it a title. One cousin suggested “Wish”. I hadn’t even thought of the childhood ritual of blowing on these puffs, making a wish as the precious seeds full of promise wafted away on the wind! It was such a poignant title, and hereafter, I thought of this photo as such.

Wish. Yes! Wish for peace in my soul. Wish to be where the Lord wants me to be. Wish to accept change as it comes. Wish to be what I am supposed to be. Wish to be whole again.

Just like the flower that had been both beautiful and bright, I had evolved. I had gone to seed. And it was time to let myself go, sailing in the breeze without care for where I would land, knowing that wherever it was, I would bring more beauty and life into the world. I would trust that the current of air would take me where I needed to be.

Since my return from Bro’s house, I’ve been busier than ever. Opportunities are presenting themselves like I would never have dreamed possible. The world is opening up, and I’m oddly at ease with all of this. I feel myself softly coming to rest on a variety of fields, tentatively catching hold of the fertile soil. Seeds are being sown before me.

Some will develop into beautiful, hearty plants. Some will cling to rocky places, struggling to maintain their hold. Some will blow away, perhaps coming to rest in another place. Still others will wither and die before they can even begin to grow.

And I’m all right with that.

I wished for peace, and I have found that. I know that no matter how hard the wind blows, I have anchors to hold me…and if not, I can trust in the Lord to take me where I need to be. He will guide me, sustain me, and comfort me.

I wished to be whole, and found that being whole is something entirely different than I had dreamed. Sometimes, to be whole, one has to be ready to unfold, and leave yourself open.

I’ve also learned that it helps to be standing tall like that little dandelion. You are able to scatter further and further from yourself, finding new and greener pastures. Had that little flower been lying on the ground, broken, the seeds would never have travelled on the wind.

Wish. See the wonder. And then believe!

You just might get it all.

"Aziz! Light!"

“The Fifth Element” fans will recognize that line, as it appears at the very beginning of the movie. The priest is trying to read something in a cave, and needs his assistant to hold the torch so that he may see. The assistant keeps moving away, for various reasons, and the priest will yell, “Aziz! Light!” Each subsequent yell gets a little more gruff and desperate.

I identify with that priest. I am definitely a light lover. I need it, much like a flower needs the light of the sun. When we had a power outage that lasted for a week, I found that I simply could not function in the evenings because we didn’t have the supply of light that I was used to. We finally found that by shining one of the lamps that we had hooked up to the generator into the corner of the room, we could bounce enough light off of the white walls to satisfy my needs and keep me from freaking out.

We used to live in a house that had narrow windows, dark paneling, and no overhead lights. The first thing that I did when we moved in was to take down the heavy draperies and replace them with blinds. I could open them wide so that the sun would come into the room. We eventually got rid of the dark paneling, and added as many lights as possible to the room. It helped, but was never quite enough. I always felt like yelling, ‘Aziz! LIGHT!’

When we were looking for a new home, I wasn’t sure that we would ever find one that felt right. My husband actually found the home that we eventually bought. It wasn’t much to look at on the outside, but had four bedrooms. Our agent took us inside and I was not into the house more than 5 feet when I decided that this was the one. It was perfect! In so many ways…but most of all, because it was LIGHT. There are skylights, big windows, and a sliding glass door in the high ceilinged family room. Sunlight would literally stream in through the skylights in the afternoon. I knew that I had found home.
Light makes everything better. It allows us to see clearly. It illuminates the dark places, so that we may plainly see what we are dealing with.

The past few days have been sunny here…finally! We have had rain, rain, rain and lots of gray. So when the sun broke through, we threw open the blinds and opened the doors. We’ve been spending a lot of time in the back yard. It is nothing short of glorious!

It’s also been perfect for photographs. Light makes everything more vivid. It gives us depth and texture. Without a proper amount of light, everything seems flat and dull. I’ve taken more pictures in the last few days than I have in weeks – pictures of the blooming rhododendrons in our yard. Pictures of the light dappling through the trees. Pictures of the kids playing catch. Pictures of the dog trying to play catch. Pictures of the baby with sunlight lighting up his blonde hair like a halo. Pictures of glowing, radiant flowers. Pictures like the tree that so fascinates me.



The old snag becomes something else entirely in the late afternoon light. The colors are rich and warm, the shadows cast by it’s branches are fascinating. Set off by the brilliant blue of the evening sky, it is spectacular. (that was for you, mh!)

Photography is all about light. Get it right, and you have a stunning photograph. Get it wrong, and either you cannot capture the image that you see before you, or it becomes washed out and featureless. The sun is perfect light.

The Son is perfect light. I could go on and on with that analogy, and probably will in subsequent posts.

Today, I am thankful for the light, more than ever. I am thankful for color in my world. I am thankful for depth, for texture, and for illumination.

Good job, Aziz!