Some days, instead of wondering if something will live up to my expectations, I worry that I cannot live up to life. Today, will I be me, or will I be this cardboard cut-out version of myself, propped up in times I am expected to be present, but knowing I simply can’t be all-in? We just went on a short two-day getaway to Montreal. Our first day there I was anxious I would be that other-girl, that not-quite-girl. I know she is a part of me, too, just as much as the girl who stares at stars and the girl who drinks her coffee black and her whiskey straight. But I haven’t quite yet learned what do with her.
The second day I felt no different, but I strapped my camera across my shoulder and we took off. My camera helps me sometimes, skews my angle, adjusts the amount of light I’m letting in. I thought, Maybe today I could be the girl who sees things differently.
The Norte-Dame Basilica in Montreal is a site simply begging to be photographed. The space curves around color and light, calling it into corners private, quiet, then throwing it high into the air to bend and shimmer. My family meandered off in different directions, and I found myself alone, with quiet and space to stir the curiosity that urges me to bring the camera in the first place.
I felt quite removed from the religion of the place. I wanted to be respectful, but the arched ceilings seemed to say that God was high above, the long aisle to the front seemed to echo— God is distant.
This is not the God that collects my tears.
This is reverence.
But is it faith?
It was beautiful, and I could sit in the stillness of it, but I did not imagine that God could meet me in it. Continue reading Calling