Little Details

I have several dozen pictures of my dad from his childhood and young adulthood that I've been working to put into a heritage album since last fall. I pulled the project out again this weekend. I made great progress last fall and then stalled on it because I decided I wanted to scan all of the pictures so I'd have access to them in the future should I ever need them again.

I finally did that task this weekend, and as I scanned and then permanently adhered the photos to their layouts, I enjoyed looking at them all again. This picture in particular always makes me smile because my dad told me a story that goes with it...he was close to two years old in the picture, and he explained that his mom made him wear the dress because he was not being very successful with potty training. (Personally, I think expecting a not-yet-two-year-old boy to be potty trained is a bit extreme, especially in the day of outhouses, but he was a first child and it was a different time, I suppose.) I assume the dress was meant to make it easier for him to get the job done instead of having to fuss with pants. He, however, told the story like it was a punishment for continually messing his pants.

Whatever the reason for it, it's cute. And so is the teddy bear he's holding. However, what surprised me as I studied the picture for the umpteenth time this weekend was that I'd never noticed the hand holding him on the porch rail from near his lower back on the left. That hand was presumably my grandmother's...and as I looked closer, I could see a glimpse of the white shirt of her shoulder as she ducked down behind him so as not to be in the picture, and her hip protruding from the behind the side of the porch post at the lower left. I couldn't believe I'd never noticed these details before, and when I saw them, I thought they were just so cool. I suddenly had this connection with my grandmother as a young mother, holding her baby safely so he wouldn't fall off the porch rail while his picture was being taken, keeping herself out of the frame (as we all tend to do at times, don't we?). I love it.

The other thing about so many of these pictures from the early 1900s is that they really were of every day kinds of things. I don't know why I've always had the impression that photos then were mainly posed events. After all, cameras were likely found in far fewer households back then. I know my dad's family was not well-to-do, but there are dozens of pictures of him doing nothing special...just being. Maybe there were more to the pictures at the time, stories that have long since died with my grandmother and my dad. Most of the pictures have only a date, if that. (A few have richer descriptions written in my grandmother's hand, and they are so precious to me! I wonder if she ever imagined how much those pictures and words would mean to someone nearly 100 years later?) But I love studying the photos and imagining the circumstances around them. What a joy.

Hard to Refine

(This post originally appeared on my Creative Spirit blog in Feb. 2006.)

was reading a post over at The Faithful Alligator earlier today in which the question was posed, "Am I who I am?" She (I'll refer to her at tomzgrrl, as that's the name she uses at her blog) reflects on how she continues to "grow, change and redirect" into the person she is. The point being, I believe, that who we are is always going to be an on-going process. Tomzgrrl uses the word "self-actualized" to describe the product of the process. (I'm not crazy about that word, if only because the Maslowian reference induces unpleasant flashbacks from grad school.)

Still, all this seems to fit right in with my current introspective, taking-account-of-my-life state. In a comment, I replied, "I feel...like I'm trying to *refine* my definition of myself as I launch into the next part of my life's journey. I'm trying to take into account who I've been up to now, keep what has been good, get rid of what isn't working and emphasize that which is truly, deep-down important to me -- all while not worrying about what anyone else thinks..."

After I wrote that, I started thinking about what it means to *refine*. Every time I hear that word, the first thought that comes to mind is the refiner's fire, which acts to extract impurities from metals. There are a lot of references of this sort throughout the Bible, comparing God to a refiner's fire, always being our test and purifier. I so love that imagery.

It's not a romantic thing, to be sure...refining takes time and work and patience and the fire has to be very hot to do its job. (Gold, for instance, melts at 1062 degrees C. and must reach 2000 degrees C. to boil.) If all of the impurities are not refined out of the metal, it can compromise it's strength and ability to fulfill its purpose. So much imagery in all of that!

My friend American Heritage defines the verb "refine" in different ways including: to reduce to a pure state; to become free of impurities; to free from coarse, unsuitable or immoral characteristics; to acquire polish or elegance. Wow. So much meaning for such a little word.

After thinking about all of this, I realize that I'm not just seeking to refine my definition of who I am; I am seeking to refine who I am. Not to recreate who I am. I'm not that unhappy with myself to want to be someone else completely. I simply want to be the me I am now, but I want to be her better. (I feel like I should be part of a BASF commercial.)

Lately, I've become aware of so many little ways (and big ways) I could be doing that. It could become overwhelming if I let it. But, like so many things when change is needed, it's probably best to start with one small corner, make a difference there and then move on to the next instead of trying to tackle it all at once. Lather, rinse, repeat. I feel like I've already begun the process. So...what corner of my life to tackle next?