Today’s post in my photography series is from January 2017 during my time as a contributor to a collaborative photography blog. Focusing on Life was heartchild of my friends and photography mentors Terri and Dotti. From 2013 to 2017 I shared my stories there and documented my journey as a photographer. I was (and still am) honored to have been a part of that special community.
How many lessons of faith and beauty we should lose, if there were no winter in our year!
Thomas Wentworth Higginson
It’s one of my favorite things about where we live.
Living in a historic neighborhood, we are fortunate to have many lovely, stately, mature trees. From the glory of their spring blooms, to the welcome shade in the summer, to the amazing colors in the fall, these trees have a way of beautifying our neighborhood all year long.
But in December of 2007, it was a completely different story.
Our city was hit with a devastating and crippling ice storm. One that destroyed many of the trees in our neighborhood. And the ones that were able to withstand the storm were heavily damaged.
It’s hard to believe that was almost ten years ago.
Thankfully, our neighborhood has recovered. And for the most part, I don’t really think about it any more. The new trees that were planted after the storm are thriving. The older surviving trees continue to bloom and grow with the seasons. In fact, for the majority of the year you can’t even really tell that anything happened. Except during winter.
Because during the winter months, when the trees are bare, you can still see the scars of that terrible storm.
Gnarled branches, misshapen limbs, giant gaps in the canopy…evidence of the triage that was performed at the time. And yet, you can see where the trees are filling in the gaps with smaller limbs growing into the spaces left behind. It’s amazing really…this life force which enables them to fight and grow and thrive despite their injuries.
It seems to me that people are a lot like trees. How that underneath the life we put out on display, all of us bear the scars of trauma and injuries. Like leaves, the trappings and busy-ness of our daily lives tends to disguise and distract from our wounds. Only when we are courageous enough to bare our hearts and be vulnerable, can others see the signs of storms we have weathered.
But being broken or damaged doesn’t make us less valuable. Like the mighty oaks and maples in my neighborhood, these scars add character and tell the story of survival. Which I tend to think is immensely inspiring and interesting. In trees and humans alike.
But beyond that, I also believe that there can be beauty in these broken places. It happens when we allow our wounds to make us more compassionate, more empathetic souls. It happens when we take our pain and transform it to bring hope and joy to others.
And that in a beautiful thing.
Until next time,
Kelly
A pretty neighbourhood..and so well said your post.We had a crippling ice storm in 1998 so I understand everything you are saying.Stephen Spielberg just said similar about us only showing the good and that at 74 he felt he should tell his story.He won at The GGs for the movie..The Fabelmans based on his family.
Thank you Monique. It makes me happy to know that my post resonated with you. I’m going to add that movie to my list to watch!
I remember this post! And so many of your wonderful contributions to the FOL blog. We were so blessed to have had you as a part of the blog and to have you as a friend as well. Miss those days!
me too terri! xoxoxo
I have enjoyed reading some of these old posts. They ring true for me. Always thankful for what you share.
Janet it always makes my heart happy to know that others can relate to my stories.