Pictures of three course dinners and people smiling in their Saturday night duds are common. It makes it easy to know when you have nailed it, if that is what you are going for.
Our marriage group's recent potluck would have made a lovely photo, had it occurred to any of us to take one. Six couples who have been in each other's homes, heard about each other's children, and consoled each other's losses chatted around the table. There were three rounds of food and twice as many brags about our partner. If it sounds perfect, well it was.
Recently a friend sent me a slew of pictures documenting the year long process of renovating his property. There were dump trucks delivering gravel, people on their knees painting, piles of burning scrap lumber, grungy floors on the way to being clean. It looked like a lot of work. But the person pointing the camera was not dissuaded by effort, and had the foresight to capture evidence of change.
People don't typically pause to click when they are sweeping, or swabbing. It is common to take a photo of the cozy fire, but not the woodpile that feeds it. Folks more often wait until the debris is gone to pose and post.
Yet the messy efforts are inherent to the journey, and when we scurry over them to what feels like the goal, something is lost. The twelve people who laughed together on one of the last evenings of spring have clocked their share of scrubbing, and schlepping, praying and crying. I know, because we did not hide the broken parts of our years from each other.
Their vulnerability is what renders them precious to me.
