This post brought to you by my mangled finger and burnt yam chips.
I am just a few photos away from having posted 1234 Instagrams. I like me some picture taking y'all. I love love love photography and don't get much time for it, so IG is kind of my outlet. I post a lot, and I will not apologize :) (I mean, you have the option to unfollow me so...)
I had a friend compliment my profile the other day and then tell me that she just never has anything Instagram-worthy to post. Which made me giggle in my head. Because really, do any of us? What even makes a moment "Instagram-worthy" in the first place? Also, if I admitted to you the number of times I go out of my way to get a decent Instagram, you would be embarrassed for me.
When I scroll through my personal feed I see sunlit flowers, cups of coffee, cute friends, design that inspires me....but in case I have given you the impression that I wake up every morning (on time) and put on an Anthro-tastic outfit and then stroll down a cobblestone street lined with impossibly perfect flowers to my favorite coffee shop where I design things all day because I have a stream of creativity that just never stops, let me clear that up for you right this moment.
This morning I woke up a half hour later than I intended because after a decade of using them, I still can't seem to figure out alarm clocks. I am a creature of habit so I threw on yet another denim shirt which I found semi-crumpled in the basket in the middle of my floor because my closest doesn't have a rack in it (an issue I am currently working on). Yeah, this dreamy nook I posted last week? It is literally the only tidy spot in my entire house right now. And by tidy I mean not covered in boxes upon boxes of goodness knows what.
Work was good, except I lost track of time finishing things and left 15 minutes later than I should have to beat any sort of traffic which resulted in minor law-breaking and internal cursing. I have low key road-rage issues...mostly of the interior persuasion. I've just got a need for speed, ok?
Fast forward to this evening when I arrived home after a birthday dinner for a couple friends. (Also, may I note that I did not post my Ali Baba Pitza even though it was delicious and had a perfect name? You're welcome.)
Before the dinner I stopped at Target to get a gift bag and on a clearance end-cap I happened to find a can opener which our house was in need of. When I got home I was taking the can opener out of its packaging, and like a heathen, I grabbed a knife. I distinctly remember thinking "This is a bad idea. I should go upstairs and get some scissors," but laziness won and I proceeded to not only open the packaging, but slice the side of my finger wide open as well. I swear I felt bone, but I'm too afraid to look at it.
After bleeding through three band-aids and trying desperately not to pass out –I do not do blood, people– I just sat there on my bed holding a paper towel on the cut willing it to stop bleeding. Insert full-on melt-down over cutting my finger and having no one to fix it for me. I literally turned into a giant baby right there on the spot. And then I rolled my eyes at myself, grabbed my keys and headed to Club Walgreezy* to get something to clean this battle wound with...and also maybe some more intense band-aids. I am referring to my cut as a battle-wound, because in the war against my own laziness and stubborn spirit, I almost lost a finger. Probably a tad dramatic, but I'm still a little woozy from the blood loss.
Upon returning and fixing my poor hand, I remembered there were sweet potatoes in the fridge about to go bad. I had intended to use them for yam chips, so I sliced them up and started frying them. Making chips of any kind is always an interesting experience. I have yet to make a successful apple chip. They are continually too soft and then BAM black and crispy and forever glued to your favorite cookie sheet.
So you can blame it on the fact that I suffered minor trauma tonight, or maybe just chalk it up to being HUMAN, but I burnt my first round of chips. And set the smoke detector off. And then the smoke detector fell off the wall and probably broke. Except I don't know because my finger started bleeding again. (I have ceased trying to convince my new roommates I am cool in any way.)
So maybe this was a particularly disjointed day in the life of Caitlin Elmore, but what I am saying is that in the midst of my incredibly human life I take pictures of the little things that catch my eye, edit them (usually in the bathroom, in line at Subway, or somewhere equally unglamorous), and post them for your viewing pleasure in hopes that you will do the same. (I have some accounts I seriously LOVE following.)
My life is not perfect and I know that yours is not either. For me, it's all about finding the beauty in the unexpected. Finding a little corner of the world that makes me look to my Creator and whisper "thank you."And occasionally clearing that ridiculous stack of junk mail out of the way and scooching (how on earth do you spell this) my coffee mug just a tad to left to get the perfect sunlit shot of my morning. (Fess up, we ALL have done it.)
I read an article not too long on the envy effect of social media. It was a good article. Because there are issues with it...like the need for "likes" many of us combat at one point or another. I think there is something to be said for checking yourself and your motives and taking time off from social media every once in awhile. But, I am also here to tell you that you do not have to feel guilty or fake for only posting the beauty in your life. Because realistically what are we expecting? Did you want to see a photo of my finger oozing blood with a filter slapped on top? No. You didn't. Because that is disgusting.
It is SO easy to feel envious of someone else's life and I am totally, totally guilty of experiencing this. But let's hold ourselves accountable to remembering that we are probably only seeing the good...and that's ok. I don't know about you guys, but I only show the deep, dark, raw parts of my life to a trusted few. I think that's ok too. It is ridiculous to assume that any one person on this planet is exempt from trial, frustration, pain, worry, financial struggle, identity issues...the list goes on. We live in a broken world. We are broken people. But Christ did not call us to dwell in this.
I am redeemed. Because of Christ I walk about in freedom and in joy. Not a circumstancial happiness type of joy, but an everlasting joy that no one can steal from me. And in return I give thanks. I hope that the photos you see communicate the gratitude I feel for being loved so completely by a good, good God. He is SO faithful. In all things. And on a really crappy day, I see this message of hope in a flower poking through a crack in sidewalk or a sunset over the city I love. (A-K-R-O-N)
And let's all just remember the things that aren't being Instagrammed.
Like bleeding fingers and burnt yam chips and tomorrow's dentist appointment..............um, pray for me.
I write this as a reminder to myself: You live a good life given to you by a good God. "Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." (1 Thessalonians 5:18)
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*We have taken to calling the corner Walgreens "Club Walgreezy" or some variation on this name, mainly because of the amount of people legit chilling outside the store at oh, you know, midnight.
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