I feel like I've had a camera in my hands my entire life. Ever since I was in early elementary school, I've always seemed to have a love for photography, and eventually video. I’m not sure what initially drew me to it, but I think something innately within me has just always wanted to capture the beauty around me- whether through clouds (my first award winning photo, thank you very much), people, landscapes, whatever it may be. Being behind the camera has honestly been one of the biggest constants throughout my life.
When I look back on my favorite pictures and videos I've taken, this year or otherwise, it’s always the moments of in-between I love the most. Capturing those natural moments as they happen; life as it really was. The joy seems greater, more natural. The moment holds a sense of authenticity. There’s something in those moments, those pictures and videos, that you usually can’t seem to feel in a more posed picture. The obvious grandeur is less, but I think so much more beautiful.
Yet when the in-between moments of my life happen, I want nothing more than to run. To get to the next place as quickly as possible. Sometimes I hide, afraid of what’s next, or what’s to change. Liminal spaces feel less like an invitation to me and more of a place of dread- full of uncertainty, questions, waiting, and a lack of stability. The perfect space for doubt and fear to flood in.
Life right now is nothing but a huge in-between. I want to have the answers, to be in control of what's happening. I don’t know if all my writing has made it clear enough yet, but i love to be in control of my life. And I’m terrible at giving it up.
But life is made in the transitions: the time of change, the time of growth. It’s where the Lord resides even when I can’t see it. I want to see these parts of my life the way I see it in photos and videos; as the parts with the greatest joy, and beauty, and the most life. To be present in this time of in-between and transition, instead of hoping for the future or wishing for the past.
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I wanted to end my last blog with one of my favorite quotes from writer and artist Mari Andrews:
“It has never been this way, and it has always been this way. The fact that suffering, mundanity and beauty coincide is unbearable and remarkable.”
These words of hers have stuck out to me since I first read them a year ago, at the start of the pandemic. They’re just as applicable to me now as they were back then. This year during Fellows I've been overwhelmed by it all: the suffering, the mundanity, the beauty. It truly is unbearable and remarkable that they can all coincide together. Over the course of the past nine months I've continued to learn more and more about what it looks like to live in the balance of all three of those things. Suffering, mundanity, beauty- they’re all meant to be lived, not hiding from one and over-embracing the other.
I’m thankful for this year. For this program. For the people I spent entirely way too much of my time with almost every day of the week. I’m thankful for everything they’ve taught me, and what i’ll keep on learning from them as the months and the years go by. I’m thankful for the ways they’ve taught me to see the suffering, mundanity, and beauty, and remind me that the Lord is equally in them all. That He is as present in the in-betweens as the beginnings and the ends. Thank you Lord for this year.
[AND LASTLY, I’ve had this thing for a few years that i occasionally post on if you feel so inclined to keep up with any future writing of mine: www.jennnnifernicole.wordpress.com]
monthly music recommendations: obstacle 1 by interpol, simplicity by yam haus, don’t you by taylor swift, my city of ruin by wesley schultz, palms by gus dapperton, easy tiger by flyte, why by dominic fike
-- Jen