The Call: Time & Tide — Jessica

When I was creating the new list of calls, I was thinking of “time and tide” and then automatically began to sing this old song.

I looked up the origin of “time and tide wait for no man,” and was surprised to find that it was attributed to Chaucer, but I was more surprised to learn that “tide” did not refer to the “tides” of the ocean. Rather, it refers to a period of time. Think Eastertide, noontide, and so on.

Photograph is an in-camera multiple exposure touched up a bit in Lightroom.

The Response: Shadow Play — Jessica

I love to photograph shadows because they can reflect things from outside the frame and in a way make visible the invisible.

The Call: A Veil Between Earth and Eternity — Cheryl

Life is filled with wonderful moments that deepen my faith and keep me excited about learning. How often have I encountered a theme, day after day, or maybe month after month, in very different places?

Lately, I’ve been fascinated by the notion of a thin veil hanging between this world and the invisible world of the eternal, a veil that sometimes gets blown aside and lets God’s concept of time and space mingle with ours.

The first time I ever noticed such an idea was when I was reading Madeleine L’Engle’s Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art. In that book (and in many others written by L’Engle, apparently), she distinguishes between earthly time (chronos) and God’s time (kairos). In Glimpses of Grace, which is a collection of excerpts from L’Engle’s writings for each day of the year, I found an example that illustrates the distinction: “And as for those seven days of creation, nothing whatsoever is said in Genesis about God creating in human time. Isn’t it rather arrogant of us to think that God had to use our ordinary, daily, wristwatch time? Scripture does make it clear that God’s time and our time is not the same. … So why get so upset that God might have created in divine time, not human?”

While I’ve long believed that God’s seven days could very well have equaled 7 billion of our years, I had never really thought in terms of God’s time crossing a line and blurring things in our world.

After L’engle, though, came Emily of New Moon, a character created by Lucy Maude Montgomery who is nearly as fun and full of life as Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. Emily has a gift of seeing into eternal time and space, and once in awhile even crossing the line. Montgomery describes one of Emily’s glimpses into eternity as seeing “the flash.”

And then, for one glorious, supreme moment, came “the flash.”

Emily called it that, although she felt that the name didn’t exactly describe it. It couldn’t be described — not even to Father, who always seemed a little puzzled by it. Emily never spoke of it to any one else.

It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside — but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond — only a glimpse — and heard a note of unearthly music.

One of last month’s books was Caryll Houselander: Essential Writings, and this Catholic “mystic” shared many experiences of the divine in this life. She, too, was able to “lift the veil,” seeing Jesus — very vividly — in the world, and persons, around her.

The other day, there was a blog post by novelist Kaye Park Hinckley, in which she writes, “The veil between life and death is decidedly thin, and certainly no barrier to God.”

See what I mean about this recurring theme? I’ll continue to look for it, even thought I don’t claim to have any special gift for seeing God at work in the world, just an ordinary one, for I do find him, here and there — like many others, it’s very often when I’m looking through my camera’s viewfinder.

The Response: A Lens that Seldom Sees the Light of Day — Cheryl

Most days, it seems as though I’ve forgotten that I own a Lensbaby. I seldom take it out of my bag and attach it to my camera, because I have seldom gotten a shot with it that makes me happy. I look with envy at Lensbaby photos taken by others, but when I do dig out my Composer Pro with Sweet 35 optic, I’m always hopeful that I’ll get something great. I attached the shift-able lens to my E5 last night and got some decent shots. I told myself that I’d leave it on my camera all day today, and I’m glad I did, for I had also almost forgotten that a Lensbaby can be used for portraits of people and animals, not just for photos of flowers, trees, and leaves.

The Call: Forgotten Film — Jessica

Cleaning up around my desk the other day, I came across a roll of undeveloped film. I’m not sure how old it is, when it was shot, or how it got on my desk. Rather than ponder these mysteries, I decided to pull out the boxes where I keep all the old family photos (the pre-digital days — before baby #3). While there were plenty of out-of-focus and blurry shots, there were a couple of gems as well. And of course they are all priceless, in a way, since none of the kids are that small anymore.

The Response: Our Lady — Jessica

On the feast of Our Lady of Fatima this was in one of the psalm prayers in the morning office: “Clothe us with the weapons of light.” Just the inspiration I needed.

The Call: Animalia — Cheryl

This is Luke’s laundry. Most everything has a Puma on it — or a white, orange, and blue horse.

The Response: Before It Goes Away — Cheryl

When I saw the pattern the sunlight and a basket was making on the floor of my studio, I yelled for Stella — prodding a bit so she’d move quickly — and hoped I’d get the shot in time.

The Call: The End of the Blossoms — Jessica

Spring seems to happen overnight. One day the trees are still bare and then the next there is a haze of green and then BAM! the next day everything is in bloom. I guess it shouldn’t surprise us when the blossoms are gone almost as quickly.

Gone to Seed — Jessica

“The grain of wheat does not remain alone, for it includes the maternal mystery of the soil — Mary, the holy soil of the Church, as the Fathers so wonderfully called her, is an essential part of Christ.”
—From Mary: The Church at the Source

Call: A Leotard and a Tutu — Cheryl

Stella did not even realize that she’d be dancing in a recital, until Bridget came home from her dance class with some costumes in a bag. Ever since we removed Stella’s from the bag, and she saw all that pink, purple, and sequined goodness, the upcoming recital (this Saturday) has been the source of much joy and anticipation.

Response: I Will See God in the World Around Me — Cheryl

Prayer After Communion
Look with kindness upon your people, O Lord,
and grant, we pray,
that those you were pleased to renew by eternal mysteries
may attain in their flesh
the incorruptible glory of the resurrection.
Through Christ our Lord.

I encountered that prayer this morning, on the pages of Magnificat. It’s part of today’s Mass.

Jessica wrote yesterday that renew “implies a strengthening of purpose, a firming of resolution, a clarification of vision.” The time I spend with Magnificat each morning firms my resolution and clarifies my vision like nothing else does, not even weekly Mass, where I simply cannot focus for more than five minutes.

Jessica’s violet sent me out to the yard in search of flowers, but I found few of them. Almost all of the crocuses are dead, and thus far, only a couple of daffodils and dandelions have renewed themselves. So, I picked a small branch from one of the lilac bushes, a branch showing signs of renewal.

When I entered the house, I made for my studio and placed my tiny branch on one of my art journal pages, because few things in life renew my soul, my creativity, and my resolve like making marks on paper, laying down paint and pastels, sticking bits and pieces of my life to page and writing about a frustration or a feeling in one of my journals.

It’s good to be back.

Call: New Beginnings — Jessica

To renew something means more than just to begin again or do over. It implies a strengthening of purpose, a firming of resolution, a clarification of vision. I hope that we have managed to do that for Call and Response after our little sabbatical.

After our initial year, we experimented with different formats in order to find something that would both inspire us and fit into our busy lives. I think the new format that we launch today will do just that.

It was not by coincidence that our break came at Lent. I had been feeling very dry creatively and badly needed a retreat. I put down my big camera and pulled out my phone and downloaded Hipstamatic. I shot with a high contrast black and white preset and kept processing to a minimum. I didn’t try to do anything other than focus on shape and shadow and contrast.

Doing that renewed my eye. I began to see things that I could photograph again. I began to want to grab the big camera. But I let it sit out – until Easter. And then! How wonderful it felt in my hands…the weight, the buttons, and the sound of the shutter all brought a thrill to my heart, again.

So, here we are. Renewed. Refreshed. Ready for the journey.

Cheryl