Practicing Resurrection

On Monday (President's Day), we developed a roll of film from my SLR camera that had been in there for two long years. I obviously don't use that camera often enough. However, with new batteries priced at a whopping $15, that's likely to change. The film was worse for the wear - light-exposed and washed out - but the moments it captured were perfect.

Exactly two years ago on President's Day weekend, I packed my car with the things I didn't want to live without and headed west with the guy I knew I couldn't live without, embarking on what continues to be the grandest adventure of both of our lives. All this time, stuck inside my camera had been snapshots of a time in our lives that was utterly unexpected and insane, yet still completely obvious and sensible. It was a time of transition and excitement, surety and uncertainty, newness and familiarity. It was fun to hold those moments in my hands and experience all over again many of the emotions, thoughts, fears, and hopes that I had way back when. And this time, I could do so with the knowledge that things would turn out splendidly.

Here's a little blast from our past (February 15, 2010):

As I flipped through these prints, I kept thinking of Wendell Berry's poem The Mad Farmer Liberation Front, from which our blog gets its name. (The whole poem is here, in our first post.) Various lines moved through my mind: Every day, do something that won't compute. Take all that you have and be poor. Ask the questions that have no answers. Plant sequoias. Go with your love to the fields. Lose your mind. Be like the fox. Practice resurrection. Done and done and still doing.

I'm not sure where we found the bravery or audacity to resurrect a relationship and life together that many - most of all ourselves - thought long dead. And I'm not sure where our mothers found the courage and goodness to let us try, a whole 3,000 miles away from their protective watch. But we did. And they did. And I'm oh, so glad.