Coming down off of a year of intense change and hurt, our family took a trip to Costa Rica for 2 weeks, just us 5.
We saw monkeys and hiked the base of a volcano. We swam in the sea surrounded by rugged rocks and twisted tropical trees. We have 500 pictures of it all, in little rows on our iphones.
The few times I picked up my camera-sometimes hazy with the humidity-it wasn't to capture the beauty of the country or document us doing something exciting. It was a breathless attempt to grab onto the quiet magic.
We ended up renting an open air house in the jungle on the Oso Peninsula, where they don't have electricity and you have to drive through rivers.
It was there that our family found such tender healing. It goes beyond words. Hours would pass with no speaking, just the click click of tiny transformers and the breeze in the trees. I had time to cook and wash dishes while my family played games, filling my heart up to bursting. We spent days covered in mud on the rugged beach, completely free to be ourselves as not a soul walked past.
At night I lay in Noah's sweaty arms listening to the ocean and the gekkos chirping, in awe of the strangeness of this space.
I saw my children there. Raw and open, not who I was fashioning them to be, but their exposed souls-terrifying and magestic.
Here are some of my most treasured photos I've ever taken.
I wonder if you can see it.
I wonder if they arouse in you the same heart longing that they have me.