I’m about as interested in getting political in this blog as I am interested in unpacking every embarrassing moment I had in my 20s and walking you through each one. Not gonna happen.
But the 4th of July is tomorrow and when we aren’t perched over our grills, or swimming pools or fishing rods, or mayonnaise-based salads, or shooing children away from live fireworks, we may swap words like freedom, independence, liberty and patriotism with those close enough to listen.
In this moment of my life, I think about the word country and about all of the countries of my life that aren’t necessarily found on a map. Poet Wendell Berry wrote “The Country of Marriage” and I appreciate his metaphor. A marriage isn’t just about vows, it’s about the creation of a shared culture of how we live with our mates. Beyond the customary meaning of the word country, there are worlds I love and traffic daily and I find myself falling in love with the countries of my life: the country of motherhood, of family, of community, and the country of place – my home.
As mother to Finley, I’d have to say that parenthood is one of my favorite “places.” It’s where I wake up in the morning and lay my head at night and most of every day is spent managing our little country of Mom, Dad and Toddler. It’s governed by love, and with willpower and a lot of faith. Sometimes I’m the Mayor, but just as often, I’m whispering “Jesus take the wheel.” The land of motherhood is more than I could have ever hoped for. Reading chunky baby books, impromptu laughter, potty-training, watching Finley discover new tastes and smells and chasing his narrow rear-end all over the place. It’s grounding. It’s exhausting. Sometimes, it takes me to the ragged edge of my sanity, but truly – it’s magic.
The country of marriage has shaped me beyond words. Ryan and I are each others rock, sounding board, confessional booth, and shoulder. It’s where we test our metal as humans and where we rest when it feels like it is us against the world. That is home. Before there was Finley – there was the country of us. I’m so grateful for him and I know he is for me.
Community is absolutely a place and we know this first hand. We all thread and weave ourselves together in a community of neighbors, peers and friends and it’s alchemical. Something of substance occurs that holds us all together.
The country of work could easily be about the gear and the terrain. And I love both.
The country of work that is the best though is how intimate it can be. In those hours with clients, we form a little tribe all working toward the same goals: get the best images of the newborn, the wedding gown, the 4 generations of family, the first kiss after the I Dos. That world pops like a bath bubble when it’s over, but the memories and shared experiences last. I love that about our job as photographers.
Finally, there is what author Pearl Buck called “this good earth.” It’s not a zip code necessarily, but it’s the expanse of our home, where we point our cars when we want adventure and where we live.
I love my family. I love Ryan and our growing son, Finley. I love my parents, grandparents, cousins and in-laws and I love the people I get to work with, see out in my community and those who make my life richer and fuller. If I were to give any advice between bites of hot dog and ice cream sandwiches: celebrate what you love about our country and especially what you love about the micro-countries that fill your tank daily. Find those in your life who fit this description and thank them for being a part of your country.
Happy 4th of July.
With Love, Misty
“I give you a new command: Love one
another. Just as I have loved you, you are also to love one another. By
this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one
another.”
John 13:31-35 (CSB)
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