My camera roll is a study of contrasts. Google reminded me recently of five years of
memories. I studied the layers pealed
back to see who appeared in the shots, where I was and why it seemed important
to document for the lady who clicked the button.
Five years ago today I was journaling my every day Moscow life. This was my second full school year in Moscow. My neighborhood was familiar,
comfortable. I recognized people and
knew my way around enough to not be lost.
One photo is the landmark church that guarded the street where home
could be found. But the photo was not a creative
“shot,” just the view through the fence.
It was the view that you see when walking home from the grocery
store. I feel the bags pulling on my
hands, my feet are sore, the wind has blown my hair into my face. No glamour, just common.
The next photo is a tired, solid apartment building. The brown wood of the balcony has seen better
days. Weary lilac bushes are seen trying
to push out leaves to welcome spring.
The sidewalk is littered with leaves and small bits of trash. Another common view of my Moscow home.
Four years ago today I see a myriad of shots from a long
Moscow walk. Instantly I am transported
to that day. The sun shone cooly and
teased us with its brightness. Thankful
for a warm jacket and hot coffee, we walked.
I was accompanied by a young historian full of knowledge who practiced
his English while I absorbed the culture of this grand city. The photos are full of contrast. A sleek, modern mirror building reflecting an
ancient church. An Easter Village sprung
up in the court of the Bolshoi Theater.
At the end of our walk, outside of a metro station named for
the Revolution of 1905, beneath a statue honoring Communism, we happened upon a
parade of Russian military tanks and soldiers walking with guns drawn.
My friend took a sip of his coffee and said with a smile, “So,
when you were in your 20s like I am now, did you ever imagine you would be standing here?”
When I was 25, the Berlin Wall still stood staunchly in
place. I was someone who hardly left the
South Side of Milwaukee, let alone would stand calmly watching a Russian
military parade in the middle of Moscow.
But God knew.
Three years ago I was in Thorp, Wisconsin, at a picnic table
in a little park surrounded by my grandbabies.
Hardly able to keep them in the frame, they are running, playing,
laughing at the day. Such a contrast of
the last year’s location! American
freedom exemplified. Had you asked me at
16 would I be so richly blessed with my family, I could not have imagined it.
But God knew.
Two years ago my worlds collided. Friends in Moscow took a picture which was tweaked
and printed by friends in Eau Claire who brought it to me in Milwaukee. I see my reflection in the photo of the
photo. I am reminded how small the world
is. Had you asked me if I expected my
love of history to bond two artists across the continents, I would not have
expected it.
But God knew.
One year ago the photos are filled with ministry at church
and work. It’s funny, in a way, that my work
would become more ministry than profession and my volunteer time would be the
same. I see the people that I work with
at church in the photo and the kids that we get to bless together. I’m a facilitator that makes sure the
teachers have the tools and training they need to be successful. I love it.
I get to enjoy the students, but also enjoy helping brilliant young
teachers thrive. My profession is a teacher, but it’s more
ministry than teaching. My students come
from almost the same starting place that I did.
I see myself in them so often. It’s
my privilege to help them academically in a place where their spiritual growth
is just as important.
The church photo shows a room full of listening hearts
lifted up to hear an encouragement, a puppet speaking from a tree, several teachers
filling the air with their love and compassion.
I can feel the joy of the place.
In the second photo there is a line of young artists, fresh
faced, innocent smiles, best and brightest. They are together enjoying a taste of victory. They have
well represented our school by their excellent work and character.
I remember being the age they are. When the world was full of possibilities and
I began to stretch my creative wings. I
dreamed of being a writer at a famous magazine or newspaper. I would travel the world and write, write,
write! Or maybe I would be a teacher. I
would go to a foreign country and teach impoverished children how to read and
write. Or maybe I would be a social
worker and help foster kids and kids in jail get out of the life of drugs and
alcohol and hurt. I would have a big family with lots of kids and extra rooms for more kids so they would never feel left out.
Then life happened and all those dreams lay beneath the will
to survive. Hard years happened. If I were smarter I may have avoided some of
those hardships. If I had more direction
I may have not become so scarred and calloused.
Had you told me there would be a time when my life would become
enveloped in helping kids in various ways, I would not have believed you.
But God knew.
Now I see in these pictures the reflection younger me couldn’t imagine. I see healing, confidence,
strength, love, compassion and strength. I did go and do all those things I dreamed of. I have filled my life with people in every place who occupy spaces in my heart and, I hope, I in theirs.
I love to look through my camera roll.
It reminds me where I’ve been and where I’m going.