Flower Pic of the Day

Growing up, we didn’t have a lot. Sometimes, I felt jealous of other kids who seemed to have all the new toys and nice clothes. Sometimes I felt scared or sad because I knew my mom, who was raising us, was stressed. But my mom was also very good at finding the joy, and the beauty, in little things – and sharing it with me. Mostly, that was enough.

I never thought much about those moments, or the lesson I had learned from them, until I was a teenager. One of my friends had a tough life, tougher than mine at least, and we used to sit outside and look up at the stars together and talk, or not. Or sit on the beach, near where I grew up, and look out at the ocean, or just walk around a park. And one day she turned to me and said, “I want to thank you. I want to thank you for teaching me to see beauty.”

I had forgotten that moment, and so many others, until 2020. During the first few months of the covid shutdown, I found myself posting photos of some of the beauty I found in my daily walks – usually flowers. I posted the photos with the caption “flower pic of the day.” A friend of mine wrote to me, not long after, and said, “Thank you for sharing these pictures. They bring a little joy.”

After her comment (thank YOU Kat!), I started to, not only post more photos, but to be more conscious of the moments and time I was taking for myself to find that beauty. I started to actively share those little joys not only with friends online, but also with my family, who I was stuck, er, sheltered-in-place with at home.

I may not have always been aware, but I think that being able to find little spots of light has helped me through many a dark time in my life, and in our world. It’s not always flowers – we can’t always have flowers, can we? Sometimes I see a beautiful sculpture or graffiti on a wall that catches my eye. And it’s not always beauty. Sometimes I see a funny sign, or an ironic scene playing out, that makes me laugh. Nor is it always visual, though obviously I can’t photograph a smell or a sound. And I often do not take pictures. But more and more, I do take a moment to enjoy, in whatever way, the grace given to me.

Little moments of light cannot fill a belly, or provide a child with new clothes or that toy they really want. Nor can these moments take away all of the things in this world that I worry about for myself and my family. But finding moments of grace, when and where I can, has helped me be able to keep going, even on days when that felt impossible.

That first covid summer of 2020, while things here in Virginia were still shut down and life felt particularly challenging, my then 5 year old was up before dawn one morning, as he often was. I was up with him, so he naturally asked me if I wanted to go for a bike ride. We rode our bikes up a nearby hill and parked in time to watch the sunrise over the trees. As we stood there watching, my son said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it mom?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “Thank you for showing me this.”

I thanked him right back, since the ride had been his idea after all. But I was thankful for more than just the view. I was thankful that my child had reminded me that sometimes all it takes to find a moment of grace is pausing to watch the sky change color. More so than that, I was grateful that my child, who can’t always get everything he wants, will at least always have enough.

I’m a storyteller not a photographer, Jim! (Though I am a videographer in my day job.) But if you’d like to see a mostly daily flower (or other) pic of the day, you can follow me on Instagram here.

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Thank you for reading this. I hope you find some grace as often as you need it.