If there's one thing that sticks out in my mind about growing up in the Emerson household, its tea parties with daddy. Believe it or not, thats the thing i remember most my relationship with my dad prior to my teenage years.
It was pretty simple for him. He'd say something like "Lets have a tea party!" and we would go scurrying off to get it all ready. My sister Jami and i would get dressed up in our best Daisy Kingdom dresses, and then run to my sister Traci's room and ask/beg to borrow her miniature tea set for such an auspicious occasion as this. I remember the tea set well, it was mostly white, with lavender accents and lavender and white checked mini napkins... I always was jealous of it, i think Traci still has it. Anyway... We'd then run and ask mom if she had something to eat for our tea party, and we usually came away with some stale graham crackers or something like that. To be honest, im not sure i know what a not stale graham cracker tastes like...
All that dad really had to do was show up and smile and talk to us and tell us we were precious. Bingo, AWESOME dad in one easy step!
My dad and i laugh about this now, but truthfully, it did a lot for my relationship with my father. He cultivated in me a trust for him and an absolute security in fact that he loved(s) me. Having a tea party suuuch a girly thing to do, but my dad loved us, and so he came to our silly tea party with undersized tea cups and stale graham crackers, and loved us by speaking to our little girl hearts where we were at... Im thankful for my father, and for my mother too... I am who i am as a woman because of my dad's love and my mom's example... Well, and a plethora of other reasons too...
Tonight, after spending a good part of the last few days reading theology and thinking about the Christian faith in a very logical manner, im ready for something a little less cut and dry, a little less controversial... I decided to have a tea party with my Holy Daddy. While logic, theology and critical thinking skills are important, there's something to be said for an emotional connection with my Daddy, Jesus... I can theorize and think and live in a world of abstract possibilities, and miss the relationship. Tea parties with Jesus are important, at least for me. Jesus still looks at me over a cup a tea and some homemade shortbread cookies and smiles at me and tells me im precious while i tell him about all of my theories and hypothesis... or even just dump all of my silly girlish feelings on him... in spite of it all, i am confident in his love, and his steady and soothing voice compelling my wayward and sinful self towards his holiness...
I may not dress my best for Jesus, or bust out the stale graham crackers, but i connect with him over tea in a way that can never be rationalized.
Thanks goes to my earthly daddy, who, while still a fallen human, gave me a small picture of what a heavenly father looks like.
My mom, for stale graham crackers, and her nurturing of little hearts
Traci, for her tea set.
And Jami for being my tag-along. :)
And Jesus for having tea with me tonight, as i try and figure out what the heck predestination is all about.
"I thought it was 'if a body catch a body,'" I said Anyway, i keep picturing all these little kids, playing some game in a big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, i mean - except me. And im standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What i have to do, i have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - i mean they're running and they don't look where they're going I have come come out from somewhere and catch them. Thats all i'd do all day. I'd just be the Catcher in the rye and all...." J. D. Salinger Catcher in the Rye
The beach is not the place to work; to read, write or think. I should have remembered that from other years. Too warm, too damp, too soft for any real mental discipline or sharp flights of spirit. One never learns. Hopefully, one carries down the faded straw bag, lumpy with books, clean paper, long over-due, unanswered letters, freshly sharpened pencils, lists and good intentions.
The books remain unread, the pencils break their points and the pads rest smoothly and unblemished as the cloudless sky. No reading, no writing, no thoughts even - at least, not at first.
At first, the tired body takes over completely. As on shipboard, one descends into a deck-chair apathy. One is forced against one's mind, against all tidy resolutions, back in into the primeval rhythms of the seashore. Rollers on the beach, wind in the pines, the slow flapping of herons across the sand dunes, drown out the hectic rhythms of city and suburb, time tables and schedules. One falls under their spell, relaxes, stretches out prone. One becomes, in fact, like the element on which one lies, flattened by the sea; bare, open, empty as the beach, erased by today's tides of all yesterdays scribblings.
And then, some morning, in the second week, the mind wakes, comes to life again. Not in a city sense - no - but beach-wise. It begins to drift, to play, to turn over gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach. One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor. Perhaps a channelled whelk, a moon shell or even an argonaut. But it must not be sought for or - heaven forbid - dug for. No, no dredging of the sea bottom here. That would defeat one's purpose. The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should like empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.
--Gift from the sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.
Looking ahead at the summer my feelings are mixed. As of a few days ago i was confident and sure that the summer was going to be grand. That i would move up to Washington and live and work a simplistic existence for 3 1/2 months and everything would be sunny and rosy... and maybe it will be, but doubt has crept in.
When Brian left Wednesday night, summer hit me hard. A combination of certain functions of the female body and the emotion of knowing that i will hardly talk to or see my boyfriend for 4 months, as well as the exhaustion of the week left me pretty distraught that Wednesday night. Questions came up from deep within, questions that i had buried with a relentless optimism that could be looked at as childish. Questions like, what if it sucks up there? What if i hate it? What if living with a family besides my own sucks? What if i never talk to my Boyfriend? What if he forgets about me? What if? What if? What if? Summer had snuck up on me... Brian and i had been talking about summer and what it would look like for us as if it were a thing of the distant future, and then all of a sudden, summer was here. It came like the clang of a bell, or a slap in the face.
I have a couple weeks of time between Brian leaving, and me moving to Washington. I have a feeling that these next couple weeks will be the hardest. I tell Brian the same thing every time he goes away: that i miss him more because my life when he is gone is the same as it ever was, minus him. That is not a fun equation.
I dont know what these weeks will hold for me. They have already been interesting, with the renewal of a friendship that a year ago was broken. Situations like that, that have left me asking God "Why right now? Why right before i leave?"
This summer, i feel, will be a summer full of questions. Questions about God, about myself, about my relationships, about my future. I think that God sort of wants me to himself this summer. He is removing me from all that i know, my family, my boyfriend, my comfortable jobs, my friends, and placing me five hours away in a little town at the tip of the Washington peninsula.
But at the same time, its so clear to me that he wants me there. If nothing else, i have clarity in the fact that Port Angeles is where he wants me. I KNOW that, and as long as i know that im just where he wants me, i can do it, even if it sucks, even if its hard, even if i get lonely. I think God wants to get me out of the noise of Portland and of my life here, to a place where i can hear him. Where i will have nothing better to do than to spend time with him.
My heart is longing for the adventure of this summer. The newness of everything will be exciting. My hope is that i can come back in the fall and know myself better, know what i want and what to pour myself into. I want to come alive in Christ this summer. Like a woman who has recently been married, who sees the world through the lenses of being so wholly and entirely in love and is loved in the same manner. I want to glow like a newly wed, because my savior is my everything, and i love him, and he loves me.
All of my "what if?" questions are now becoming: "What if God was in control?" "What if i trusted him?" "What if he has something for me this summer that i dont know about?" These are the what if questions that make all of the other ones disappear. A lot of times, everything i struggle with, just goes back to God asking me "Do you trust me, Shelli?"
So, Jesus, i trust you. I know that you have something for me this summer, and i know that you have me right where you want me. I thank you that you know what i need, even when i dont.
Amen
Shelli
When Brian left Wednesday night, summer hit me hard. A combination of certain functions of the female body and the emotion of knowing that i will hardly talk to or see my boyfriend for 4 months, as well as the exhaustion of the week left me pretty distraught that Wednesday night. Questions came up from deep within, questions that i had buried with a relentless optimism that could be looked at as childish. Questions like, what if it sucks up there? What if i hate it? What if living with a family besides my own sucks? What if i never talk to my Boyfriend? What if he forgets about me? What if? What if? What if? Summer had snuck up on me... Brian and i had been talking about summer and what it would look like for us as if it were a thing of the distant future, and then all of a sudden, summer was here. It came like the clang of a bell, or a slap in the face.
I have a couple weeks of time between Brian leaving, and me moving to Washington. I have a feeling that these next couple weeks will be the hardest. I tell Brian the same thing every time he goes away: that i miss him more because my life when he is gone is the same as it ever was, minus him. That is not a fun equation.
I dont know what these weeks will hold for me. They have already been interesting, with the renewal of a friendship that a year ago was broken. Situations like that, that have left me asking God "Why right now? Why right before i leave?"
This summer, i feel, will be a summer full of questions. Questions about God, about myself, about my relationships, about my future. I think that God sort of wants me to himself this summer. He is removing me from all that i know, my family, my boyfriend, my comfortable jobs, my friends, and placing me five hours away in a little town at the tip of the Washington peninsula.
But at the same time, its so clear to me that he wants me there. If nothing else, i have clarity in the fact that Port Angeles is where he wants me. I KNOW that, and as long as i know that im just where he wants me, i can do it, even if it sucks, even if its hard, even if i get lonely. I think God wants to get me out of the noise of Portland and of my life here, to a place where i can hear him. Where i will have nothing better to do than to spend time with him.
My heart is longing for the adventure of this summer. The newness of everything will be exciting. My hope is that i can come back in the fall and know myself better, know what i want and what to pour myself into. I want to come alive in Christ this summer. Like a woman who has recently been married, who sees the world through the lenses of being so wholly and entirely in love and is loved in the same manner. I want to glow like a newly wed, because my savior is my everything, and i love him, and he loves me.
All of my "what if?" questions are now becoming: "What if God was in control?" "What if i trusted him?" "What if he has something for me this summer that i dont know about?" These are the what if questions that make all of the other ones disappear. A lot of times, everything i struggle with, just goes back to God asking me "Do you trust me, Shelli?"
So, Jesus, i trust you. I know that you have something for me this summer, and i know that you have me right where you want me. I thank you that you know what i need, even when i dont.
Amen
Shelli
The building is beautiful. The warm wood is inviting as you walk in the door. As you walk through the hallways the building becomes more and more beautiful. It has an interesting history, however, in one of the hallways there are portrait drawings of the nuns that are said to haunt the hallways. Ghosts from the building's history.
Its said that way back, the building was home to the Lucas family, one of the daughters in this family drowned in a nearby pond, her ghost still walks the area.
In its not so distant history, the building was a convent. A hospital of sorts. One of the wings was used to house the older and sickly nuns and another wing is said to have been a Psychiatric ward. Roughly 200 nuns lived and died in the building. Their bodies are buried in a cemetery not far from the UMSL campus. It seems though, that some of their souls did not rest as well as their bodies did
The drawings that are on the wall in one wing of the buildings are taken from student sightings of the "ghost nuns". Strange things happen to the students that live in the hall on a regular basis. Some hear running on the floor above them when there is no one there. Some hear a tapping on their door when no one is there.
Today, the building is used as the Honors College building for the University of Missouri - St. Louis. My best friend spends most of her time in this building. I was able to shoot some pictures of the building while she was in class. Finding out the history of such a beautiful building was fun and intriguing.
Note: Maren and Steven and Renita, If i got any of my facts wrong please let me know. =]
Citation: Drolet, Kate. "Ghost of the Provincial House." The Current (UMSL Student Newspaper). 2/24/03
Traci and i will both admit, she's somewhat of a difficult model. Not because she isnt beautiful, because she is. Gorgeous, acutally. She just feels really awkward in front of a camera.
We've had many conversations as to why this is, and I dont have much room to talk on this one, because im awkward in front of a camera too, but im the photographer so it works out really well for me.
Anyway, she says she feels like there is someone else there when my camera is around. Like someone she doesnt know very well is hearing her talk about some of her deepest feelings and emotions an observations. An interesting concept, i understand where she is coming from.
Because of this she is always very stiff in front of the camera. She is never completely comfortable and herself when its around. No matter how good the lighting is or how amazing the spot is, i can never quite get my her to be comfortable enough to get a non-posed shot. Its been a little frusterating, but really good for me - if i want to be a photographer im going to have to learn how to draw out subjects from the awkwardness of being the center of attention - so i'll learn what i can from this.
I've been so lucky in the past, that eventually my models relax and enjoy being in front of the camera, but not Traci... She's different. I think i like it about her though, capturing a real smile from her is an acomplishment and she's a challenge. She's helping me learn a lot about photography. Its really good for me, and i like the challenge :)
She told me the other day, that she thought she might do better if i had some sort of goal for her to accomplish. Like, "I want the outcome of this photoshoot to look like this..." kind of thing. Something that i am trying to get across with the pictures.
I thought about if for awhile. It was a really pretty day and that always makes me want to take pictures, and Traci came home and i was like "Sweet!"
I told her i wanted to explore her idea of beauty. I asked her to think about what makes her feel beautiful and thats what i wanted to shoot.
She surprised me with her answers...
Photograph 1-3
Traci feels beautiful when she's streching. She says its something to do with the fact that she was in gymnastics for years and she likes the feeling.
Photograph 4
Traci like the feeling of her hair when its half dry. She doesnt think it looks very good, but she really likes the way it feels when she runs her fingers through it. It makes her feel beautiful.
Photograph 5
Traci feels beautiful when she's wearing those shoes. She didnt give a reason why, but i suppose there's just something about wearing heels that makes a girl feel grown up and beautiful. She says they hurt though. She also likes wearing a slip by itself. I think she said because she likes how it feels on her skin.
Shelli
Im not sure how or why these pictures came about. It was a girlish whim i suppose.
I do belive though, that every picture taken has some sort of hidden meaning, if that makes sense.
I didnt take these pictures for any concious personal reason, i just took them. I didnt take them to make a statement or a point. I took them for me, and im not really sure why. I just felt like it. I guess they are a representation of how i felt at the time. Dont read into them, dont draw your own conclusions, and please, dont laugh... they are what they are, and im not even sure what they mean.
Maybe, they're coming from a feeling of a complete lack of beauty in my life. This feeling mostly come from the fact that i spend half my time in starbucks dress code, and the other half of my time too tired to put any effort into my appearence. It used to be that i would put together outfits to wear on my outings into portland, and dressing up all cute to go see Brian. Lately, you're lucky if you catch me in something besides jeans and a tee-shirt, and i ONLY put on make-up when i see Brian.
Not that its bad, i love wearing jeans and t-shirts... but, i want to feel pretty. I want to feel feminine, and i havent, in a long time. Its too much work, it takes too much time, its not practical for the cold, its not blah blah blah... i have all these excuses... i dont really know why.
Anyway, this photoshoot happened the other day... I wanted to use Jami, but she was sick. So i was like "fine, i'll use myself!" I dont really make a habit of doing self portraits... i think its kind of ridiculous to do a billion of them, but at the same time they're sort of an emotional release too, maybe its a pride thing, or maybe im just afraid that if i take pictures of myself, people will see my heart open in the picture. Maybe its a combination of both...
I went upstairs and put on the black dress. I never really have any occasion to wear it. I think i've worn it once, to the symphony. I never go anywhere nice enough to warrent a gorgeous black dress. The lipstick was an afterthought. It was in my makeup basket, i was just like "eh, why not."
I was wearing slippers, it was a bad idea. It was all muddy so i ended up taking them off. So there i was, in the middle of february barefoot and sweaterless, in the middle of a field of dead grass and weeds, in a black dress and red lipstick taking pictures of myself. Thats a funny thought. Maybe thats why i dont do self portraits... i just look stupid doing them...
It was great though, i really enjoyed it. I felt pretty i guess. That was nice.
Im still not sure what they mean, but meaning or not, they were an emotional outlet.
So there you have it, one of my first attempts to use photography as a personal outlet rather than trying take the most amazing picture in the world.
enjoy?
Shelli