Today’s post comes with a revelation of sorts. One that’s hit me gradually over the past year. I think we all go there from time to time, to the lands of some-day-I’m-gonnna and If only my life were different, I’d do XYZ. I’ve lived most of my adult life in those places. A place where there was a better kitchen to cook and bake in, better weather, where I had more space, more time, more money, more anything than what I had right in front of me.
Then, a few months ago, I heard myself saying it about motherhood. I was looking through the blogs of some creative and crafty moms—some who were homeschooling their children, others who worked full time, but who all managed craft an artistic life for themselves and build a home filled with creative energy for their children.
And in reading about these women’s lives, I found myself saying: Someday I’m going to live creatively like that. Someday I’m going make things for my home. Someday I’l live in a place with and extra bedroom where i can craft and lay out giant sheets of paper for my daughter to color on. Some day I’m gonna, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…
And then, I stopped myself.
What if I just did it now?
What if I just repainted those kitchen cabinets a rich color that has no resell value, simply because I loved it? What if I saved an egg carton and bought a $1 bottle of craft paint and turned it into pumpkins for Halloween? What if I just started trying to do all of those crafty things that people more talented than me did and that I admired from afar?
I have, and will only have, one child.
How much of her life (of my life) am I going to waste dreaming it up differently, instead of simply living it differently?
The image for this post, along with the entire the album I have been building for December Daily, represent my current answers to that question. I am loving the process, and I am learning so much about myself and what I value in the mean time.
This is my first attempt at making a holiday card. I’m not actually sure why I’ve never tried it before. Mostly, I think I’ve always been in search of that perfectly choreographed portrait placed on the just-right cardstock.
My life, my photography, my non-new clothes just weren’t worthy of commemorating in a photo and sending to other’s mailboxes.
Those grand visions may come to fruition some day. But this year—when I am learning to appreciate the holiday season as it is, without longing for something else—I’m happy to have this pretty good photo.
And I’ll take pride that I’ve made something good enough, with my own hands.