I don't know if it is a phenomena of the stay-at-home-mom, the perpetually social-media-connected, comparing-my-life-to-the-one-she-posted-mom, but I have a hunch this is more far reaching. There is more than enough negativity being shared and re-shared, regarding this apparent trend of false self-advertising and a call for more transparent social media sharing (that or none at all). I happen to fall on the other end of the spectrum.
I share for the grandparents and those who are invested in my days and the days of my rapidly growing children. I share photos because I enjoy the art of it.
But mostly, I share for myself. I am detail oriented; I do checklists and data and duties and expectations. I don't share the best moments of our days in order to give the impression of perfection, I share the best moments because these are the ones I want to remember. Who wants to see fourteen photos a day of my kids crying?
Oh, this was when I said he couldn't drink the toilet water. This was when I said no to taco meat for breakfast. This was when I cut up the pancake instead of leaving it whole. This was when I left the other pancake whole but it was too hot. This was when I cleaned up the puzzle pieces in the wrong order.
Trust me, those are all very real and happen every day. Every mom knows or should know that the day to day, moment to moment is not particularly beautiful and mine is no different. That is why I covet those photos where I'm able to capture the beauty that happens for three seconds between the tantrum and the pee on the floor. There is something therapeutic about stilling a fleeting blur of a moment and being able to look back on it before I go to sleep and remember, ah yes, I do love my life and thank you Jesus.
If I'm not in the picture, my hair is probably a mess. If you haven't seen a photo of it it's probably unfinished or not even started or covered in laundry. Just like yours. Or my kids are watching television for four hours while I finish the project I do snap a photo of. If I'm not sharing a photo of my lunch it's probably because I'm eating Ava's grilled cheese crusts, a squishy avocado and twelve hershey kisses.
It's not always pretty. It's usually not pretty. But I choose to capture and share the moments that matter to me, that tell the broader story of our family and that remind me of how much I have to be thankful for. In the words of Ann Voskamp, isn't this what this is? "Opening the hand to receive the moments? Trusting what is received to be grace. Taking it as bread." Nourishment.
My house is tidy once a day and clean once a week if I'm on top of things. I own ten pilly target tshirt and two pairs of shorts that fit me (spoiler alert: you won't see a trend-setting selfie in my feed). My kids are not always loving on or even liking-nearby each other, but it means something to me to capture when they are. My life is not magical or exciting or exceptional but I want to raise thanks and remember what makes it worth something. Remember with a thankful heart the moments that ultimately reflect the beauty that is Christ's love being lavished on me in jellied kid smiles and muddy handed hugs and the blooming flowers in my entryway.
I share to document the incalculable riches that visit me so briefly sometimes and so deeply in others. I share to declare the glory of The Lord in all things and all my days. Be sufficiently informed that in between the apparent instant feed of my life are plenty of non-photogenic moments--but those are easy to remember. It is much more difficult to remember and give space and reverence to the one minute in every hour where I let beauty reign over the mundane.
Let's not compare or even give in to the lies that our media-shared lives are a comprehensive snapshot of the whole picture. We shouldn't feel pressured to caption a special moment with, "Don't be fooled, this happened one minute before a total meltdown". Instead, let's celebrate that "this happened" at all. Let's celebrate each other's beautiful, inspirational, funny and real moments. Let's venture back to the days of old, when bound albums were equally reserved for sharing the best of memories and realistic, all-encompassing investment in another's life was still earned in the sacred face-to-face.
Let it ring out in each post, a resounding hurrah for the share-worthy.
Hurrah!
Hurrah!
Hur-rah.
