What's the word?

Last year what I wanted, was to be more intentional in my photography, and in my writing more and in letting my passions drive more of my actions. More intentional about my time, and in trying new things, and just with life in general. I wanted to be more intentional  about the things that are important to me, and yet I wanted to keep it as simple as possible.

And how did that work out?

Well, if I were a glass half empty kinda gal, and broke all those things down, I would have to say  . . . maybe not so great.

But I'm not, so I won't go there.

What I can tell you is that in life in general, intention worked out pretty good. I can say that I learned some new things, like journal making, and I shared my passion of taking football pictures from the sidelines on a Facebook page for the players and parents. And with roughly 60 hours logged in of shooting said football this past fall I might have even improved just a bit. I kept true to the things that were most important to me, which included my part in the conservation of the monarch butterfly by becoming an official Monarch Waystation and the release of another 600 butterflies raised in my dining room . But the biggest intention of all was the time I took away from here to rest my soul. And it was hard because it's not what I had intended to do with my time, and it sure didn't help with my intention of writing more.

But sometimes you just have to give yourself permission to rest even when the trade offs are high. Because, sometimes when you chose not to, the trade offs can be even higher. And when you have a child with a chronic illness you can't afford to not be intentional with yourself . . . it's the only way you can ride the changing tide.

{KK waterfront magic}

"Speak louder than the words before you

And give them meaning no one else has found

The role we play is so important

We are the voices of the underground"

by A Great Big World, (This Is The New Year)

During much of this quiet time, though, it's been harder to quiet the noise speaking in my head and heart. The one that says... I feel like there is something else I should be doing, something deeper below the surface of safe. I've felt this way for awhile and I don't mean instead of being here.

The thing is I'm not really sure what it is and if I've learned one thing about myself it's that I'm not afraid of not doing something right, just of not being prepared enough to start. Does that make any sense?

This years word, unlike past words, didn't come as freely. I knew what I wanted it to feel like, but couldn't quite grasp it. And then, while standing in the kitchen one day last week, it came to me like a lightning bolt. Poof, there it was, my word and one that for me feels interactive, one that holds possibilities.

[Reach] - to stretch or hold out, extend. To get to, or arrive at, or amount to. To establish                                     communication with.

to reach and be reached
to find solutions
to reach for answers and ask more questions
to find the courage to reach for my turn, to reach for yes
to simply reach for what's hidden . . .  then reveal it, and give it meaning


There is no guarantee that by the act of reaching that anyone will reach back, or that there is even something on the other side. No guarantee that there is an answer to a question or a solution to a problem, and I'm going to reach anyway.

I want to take the chance, to leap without fear, into the unknown, over mud puddles while reaching for the other side.

I want to reach for the stars and touch everything in between.

"When you reach for the stars, you are reaching for the

farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself,

it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you

reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe."

- Vera Nazarian

P.S.- I would like to invite you to join me over at Focusing on Life today (new month, new theme) where I'm sharing thoughts on time, A Tall Ship and new beginnings.

Love, Kim


Sharing with Texture Tuesday, Song-ography

The journey of one little word . . .

Possible . . . that was my word for last year. A word that ended up guiding me in a completely different way than I had expected. Ever.

I didn't just want to know about the possibilities, I wanted to believe them possible. But what I got was so much more.

In sharing my word last year I told the story of taking our son to an intensive two day camp to learn pole vaulting for the very first time (full story here). About how I wasn't seeing joy in his face, and that I could see his heart wasn't wholeheartedly into it, how it was hard and technical, and how there were no instantaneous results.

Our resilience, our souls, are so dependent on that realm of possible and so often we give up too easily. Because we don't see the joy, and because it's hard and yes at times it feels technical and because there are no instantaneous results. Often, there is nothing tangible to grasp, especially when faced with adversity. And in those times possible sometimes just feels impossible.

What I discovered was a whole new definition of possible. One that reminded me of just how strong I am and that I can still exist in possibility even in the midst of adversity. And that joy, and hope and faith, well they are all still capable of existing through it as well.

God helped show me a path to joy among the pain through the raising of monarch butterflies. I saw the possibilities of hope and beauty that can come from change...it helped me hang on to that mustard seed of faith that I so desperately needed.

I debated whether or not to share some of the details, but I think it's important in understanding the journey of that one little word . . . possible. Because it has come full circle starting with that two day camp.

Not quite 3 months after that camp my son came to me in the morning, after seeming to be perfectly fine the day before, and he had fallen extremely ill. He ran 104 temp (for nearly two weeks) and his hands were swollen and red and after 3 visits to two doctors within a week and many blood tests the doctor called on a Tuesday evening at 6 o'clock and told us to take him straight to the Children's hospital, she had called ahead and they were waiting for us. The doctor in the ER said she had never seen inflammation markers that high before. Needless to say we spent the night in the hospital, and while they ruled out many possibilities there was no definitive answer. Within a few weeks, and after a bone marrow biopsy to rule out yet one more thing, he was diagnosed with a systemic form of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis for which there is no cure. He was weak, had lost weight, and at one point he couldn't hold a cup to his mouth or open a water bottle. He missed 4 1/2 consecutive weeks of high school and was too sick to even get homework.

And then for the next few months we would battle even more issues, and weekly visits to the children's hospital for his infusions and blood work, more tests and a CT scan for a heart scare and MRI's, and then one last setback with a rare leg bleed in the compartments of his muscles that would put him back in hospital that last two days of school. It would be nearly 5 months before he was released to go back to any kind of physical activity and only two weeks before football started.

And through it all this is what I learned was possible from my son . . .

I learned that at 15 years old it is possible to possess humility and courage, he never complained. Not Ever. I learned that it's possible to always hold on to hope, he never lost it. I learned that it's possible to have an enormous amount of grit and determination because when I was unsure and afraid of all the possibilities, I saw my son believe them all possible. And this my friends, was what I had set out to accomplish with my word. I just didn't know this was how it would play out.

You see, not only was he able to get back to playing what he loves, but he worked really hard, with great purpose, and his heart was wholeheartedly into it, and yes it was really hard and no there were no instantaneous results. But his hard work had earned him back his starting position on JV, and at the end of his season he was brought up to varsity for the first (and only) playoff game, starting on kick off return. I wrote this at the end of my story, "That it's sometimes not until that last hour, that last stretch when we see the fruits of our hard work, a glimpse of our own greatness and of our possibilities." And it's taken on a whole new meaning.

At that camp, Coach Hood talked about three important parts to a successful jump. Run...plant...takeoff. They're important because they are the beginning of the jump, and he says that if the beginning is wrong, then the end can't be right. Which brings me, finally, to my word for this year...intentional with a side of simplicity. I want to be more intentional about my take off so that my landings are a little smoother. I want to be more intentional in my photography, and in writing more and in letting my passions drive more of my actions. I want to be more intentional with my time, and trying new things, and just with life in general.. I want to be more intentional about the things that are important to me, and yet I want to keep it as simple as possible.

What about you, have you chosen a word for this year?

Love, Kim


sharing with Little Things Thursday, Thursday's Favorite Things, Photo Art Friday