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September Through the iPhone

9 October 2013

We’re more than a week into October, and I’m still in September. I’m getting slow in my old age.

August was about growth. July was about friends. June was new, May was circles and April just sucked. September? I had a hard time, as I edited and cropped and arranged pictures from September. I started to think maybe there are just too many of them for any kind of pattern to emerge.

And then I noticed that horizons seem to be a theme.

Which is ironic because I don’t remember a time when my horizon seemed so unclear.

Dump Sept 1

There are some other patterns that peeked through and inspired a kind of resolution in me, but more about that next week.

(Right now you can’t tear your eyes away from that blue-hued shot of Cyborg Meatball, anyway. That was a vision test at his nine-month check-up. He does not have a lazy eye. No one thought he had a lazy eye. They could have just asked me if he had a lazy eye. I didn’t even know that’s what they were checking for, and I was having too much fun sticking electrodes on my baby’s head to ask. He looks startled, but he took it all in stride really well. I can’t not laugh at that picture.)

September was a weird season of remembering the past, and looking to the future. 

We sat where George Washington sat, and we stood where Abraham Lincoln stood. We walked where countless forgotten men and women took the first steps of their new lives in the free world. We climbed over the remains of the same stone wall where thousands of men lost their lives when the Civil War turned in favor of the Union.

But we also talked a lot about the next 30 years, and we turned some acquaintances into friends. We filmed internet teevee spots, and we continued to raise a baby, which has a way of always pointing you to the future.

And sometimes we took the past and made it the future – making someone else’s old news our new adventure. Our host in Rhode Island turned around on his way back to the car after coffee one morning, to find us not on his heals. We’d stopped to take pictures of lobster cages or bright yellow buoys or something else adorably New England-ish.

“I keep forgetting you guys aren’t from around here, and the most paltry things are new to you.”

Dump Sept 2

And right there, where the past meets the future like the sky meets the sea, is where September seemed to linger. We spent the month, it seems, staring at horizons and wondering which way to follow ours.

Because horizons can be thrilling or terrifying, in the possibilities they imply. You never really know what is just beyond them, and so you need a bearing. Not a guarantee, necessarily, just a little guidance. It’s easier to weather the storms if you know you’re headed in the right direction.

For a short time now, we have been plowing and praying, and maybe starting off in the wrong direction here and there. We have been sailing, then stumbling; asking, listening, clarifying. But September seemed to pause.

You can’t stay in one place for very long, it’s true. Horizons were made for chasing.

But when it starts to get dark, I think it’s also okay to find a nice spot on the beach – with some friends, and some fresh seafood if possible – and sit still while the sun sets behind that horizon. Put the baby, and the rest of tomorrow’s worries, to bed for the moment and stay up talking about art and Italian food.

As much as I like to have a plan – preferably divvied up into manageable action steps – it is nice, sometimes, to stand still. The horizon stops moving too, actually. And in the morning, in this next season, it will be right where we left it when we start after it again.

How are your horizons these days? Clear and straight ahead? A little fuzzy? Moving, or standing still?

4 Comments leave one →
  1. bianca permalink
    9 October 2013 7:38 AM

    Lex, this is so touching and applicable for me at this moment in my life. I love you so much for writing this and helping me to understand the murky waters I have been floating in. And that a pause, a moment to reflect and seek, is precisely what I need. God tenderly nudges me through these posts and I look at them as often as possible. Thank you so much for being a voice in the midst of the storm, echoing Love’s quiet message.

    • Lex permalink*
      9 October 2013 11:17 AM

      You’re gonna make me cry, woman. 😉

  2. bianca permalink
    10 October 2013 8:14 AM

    Is it fair if I tell you that you’ve made me cry- happy and challenging tears- many, many times? ❤

    • Lex permalink*
      10 October 2013 10:19 AM

      Alright. Then we’re even. 😉

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