Yesterday was not a good day.
At all.
It started out by oversleeping.
Then a diaper disaster with Bubbles--while the "tub" was filling and getting too full--but I was too immersed in nastiness to turn off the water.
Then I attempted to clean my camera sensor. Because I read that if you're careful, you can.
I was careful.
Still, it's looking like the biggest mistake of my life.
The hope I have is that I have read that smudged body oil may leave a film that looks like a scratch on photos. So I am waiting for a camera sensor cleaning kit and will use that for a second cleaning. If the photos improve, then it was a body oil issue, since I might have touched the cleaning swab.
If the photos don't improve. . . I'm in a devastated place.
Three years. That's how long it look me to save up for this camera. This coming Fall marks two years of having it. I was so happy the day I purchased it! I'd daydreamed about it for six years and saved for three, and then, the day came that I finally had enough funds for it. The thrill hasn't passed in the two years I've owned it.
Two years in which the thrill has not worn off but instead, the passionate enjoyment of using it has only increased.
Two years of capturing the beauty of my family and nature.
And it could all be over within the space of two minutes.
It's 4:30 in the afternoon and I'm just now eating my breakfast. I've been that upset over the situation.
Of course, there is a heart lesson in all of this for me. . . God never lets these things pass by without a lesson of some sort.
I've been reminded all over again that all I own isn't mine anyways.
Everything belongs to God.
Or should anyways.
I should offer every, single gift He ever gives me, back to Him, holding on to my earthly possessions with loose hands. Be willing to surrender them and lose them at a moment's notice if it would advance His kingdom, make it so that He is seen in my life a little bit more, draw my closer to the heart of the Giver of all good Gifts.
I am reminded that my treasures aren't earthly ones. They are heavenly ones. My true treasures are the ones I won't see until I arrive in my eternal home.
Treasures that impact souls and change lives.
Treasures that have a ripple effect throughout all eternity.
Treasures that are cast at His feet as an offering of worship.
As cheesy as it may sound, outside of my precious family, this camera is one of my most treasured possessions. And here I am, with a situation surrounding it, that is out of my control. So I can only figuratively cast it at His feet as an offering and with it, my heart cry with it. My heart cry to capture life with my children. My heart cry to capture beauty to grace the walls of Shiloh.
I have a mental picture of Him standing in front of me, with hands out stretched, a look of love on His face as my teary eyes meet His and my hands stretch my camera out to Him. Giving it to Him fully. To accomplish His purpose in my life through the camera.
Something I haven't done these past two years.
For two years it's been "my" camera that "I" bought with "my" money. "My" camera to be used for "my" personal goals and dreams. Never once have I asked Him, "How can this camera bring You glory, instead of just bring me personal pleasure?"
I guess I'm offering it a bit too late at this point. But I'm offering it none-the-less.
While I offer it, I wonder what else I should be offering to Him that I have called "mine" all this time? My money? My home? My dreams?
Even more painful. . . my children? My beautiful, precious rays of light. . . Do I dare hand them to Him?
Do I dare not hand them to Him? After all, He is not only their Creator, He is their Sustainer. While I can care for them, I can no more supply their next breath than I can fix a scratched camera sensor. There is only so much control I have over guaranteeing their health and safety.
I don't like that. Not one bit. I want the promise that they will never suffer. Never become ill to the point of gasping for breath and wracked by pain. Never hurt by people so that their hearts are broken. Never terrified beyond words. Yet there is not one thing I can do to make that come to pass in their life.
I can only stand before my Father, tears in my eyes, and place them into His arms. Hand over my ultimate prized possession and reaffirm to Him and me, that they are His, not mine. He alone can care for them in a way I am unable in my human limitations.
With lives and hearts more fragile and costly than a camera sensor, I have to entrust them to His care. I dare not do it on my own.
