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“Wish’t I wouldn’t think how it is home, Ma said. It ain’t our home no more. Wish’t I’d forget it.”  Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

I’m currently reading The Grapes of Wrath and this line caught me. The family in the story arrives at the first nice place after a grueling trip West. After seeing death and despair, losing family members, tasting hunger and experiencing chaos and disaster. They arrive at a camp where people are kind, generous, and welcoming. There are toilets that flush and showers with warm water, and it all seems surreal after what they’ve been through. And yet, as Ma takes it all in, all she can think of is the familiarity of the home she left behind.

Isn’t this what we do? It’s definitely what I do. I often can’t see what’s right in front of me because I’m too busy wishing for what I had and mourning what was lost. 

What if I opened my eyes to the newness and goodness of what today will bring? What if I hold the previous versions of myself with kindness because they brought me to this place for such a time as this? What if I looked at today- this very moment, as the place and season that I will someday long for, and immerse myself in the goodness and grace that this season is. 

May we all take in today with fresh eyes and presence, not wishing for something that is no longer, but lingering in the gift that this day brings. 

Ode to Summer (And the year that came before it)

Summer hinted that she was coming to a close when my daughter had Kindergarten Jump Start a few weeks ago. Then again, when it should have felt really real, my son started 2nd Grade this past week. Monday, both of my kids will be in a school that does not take place in our living room for the first time in over eighteen months. If I'm honest, I feel unready to move on because I'm still processing these past two years. However, time waits for no one, so I'm feeling the need to look back on this past year and a half. To pause long enough to feel the feels. To recognize that this last season was long and hard. To give space to the losses and acknowledge with gratitude all the ways that my life is now immeasurably richer. To not apologize for being unable to jump into this next season with unabated enthusiasm but to simply be where I am.

Some may have called it unwise to have a baby and also plan to homeschool your two older kids in the same year, which also happened to take place during a world wide pandemic. I, on the other hand, will forever be thankful that I had, for perhaps the only time, all of my babies home with me and together. I watched Everett and Cora truly become best friends. I watched both of them step into the role of having a baby sister. It came so naturally for each of them and amidst all of the unknowns this past year...this, this becoming a family of five, and having Everett and Cora home each day to navigate this transition will remain one of my biggest blessings in the midst of a very hard year. I also have stumbled my way through remembering what being a mom to a newborn is like. I'm glad that they got to witness that too, even on the hard days. All of us collectively and individually stepped into roles we didn't see for ourselves and I think we are coming out the better for it. I hope that even on the worst of days (and there were plenty of those), my kids felt held and loved. I hope that they know that there's room enough for their imperfections, and I hope that enables them to walk through life with grace and acceptance for others as well.

So here's to the last eighteen months. All and all, you were good to us. Did we have school each school day? No way. Did we learn a lot and grow and become? We sure did. After our homeschool year, I set out to make this summer spectacular for our kids. Did I do that? Sure didn't. I quickly realized that I didn't want spectacular after a pretty extraordinary year...I really just wanted ordinary. I refuse to carry shame about that. Our summer was over-the-top in the ordinary department. I know for sure that I am walking into this new school year with expectancy, a healthy dose of skepticism and with grit- the kind that you receive after a hard year, and also with a heart that is overflowing with unceasing gratitude.

Begin Again

Is it just me or does anyone else feel like now, after the world is starting to open back up again and some things are even starting to feel a bit "normal"....now is when I am starting to feel the effects of the last sixteen months? It's a strange thing, and one I can't wrap my mind around. I'm trying to push through, to ignore it in some ways and I'm realizing that might not actually be the best way. Maybe the best way is to sit with it and acknowledge that this last season was hard. Really hard. To acknowledge the losses we suffered so we can walk into this new season ahead stronger as we realize what we have been through, instead of pretending none of it happened.

I know that in a lot of ways I don't have a thing to complain about. My family has stayed healthy. I was able to homeschool my kids - a year I will forever be thankful for. And in the thick of a world-wide pandemic, I gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. However, in the midst of all the ways that this last year has been a blessing, when I sit with it long enough, there's an underlying sadness as I realize how much we've lost. My son never got to finish Kindergarten. My daughter got her first taste of preschool and couldn't stop talking about it, only to end her preschool career six months after starting it. When we got word that schools were closed, we all thought we'd be back six weeks later which due to our impromptu decision to homeschool this past year, meant that my kids left school that day thinking it would be six weeks when they would see their friends again, and in fact it will be closer to eighteen months. Both of my kids will be at a different school than they were when they left school, so there is a lingering lack of closure that I'm not sure will ever go away.

And here we are. Trying to figure out how to begin again. I'm trying to wrap my mind around what the Fall will be like when my kids actually do go back to school, while also trying to savor this time at home with them before they do. I'm trying to hold my ground through the arguments and fights that inevitably happen when everyone is at home all the days long. To lean in and be present when honestly all I want to do is check out. To constantly choose between housework or getting the kids out of the house. To find cracks of time to focus on something other than cooking all the meals, cleaning all the clothes, and doing it all over again.

I don't actually know how to do it all. I wish I did. But here's what I came here to say. - isn't that the beauty of savoring? I think sometimes we get the idea that it can only be the good things, so when the hard things come, we don't quite know what to do with them. When you have those moments as a family, or with your child that are beautiful....go ahead and savor every second of it. Even better if you have a portrait to hang on the wall that illustrates that connection. But don't for a second forget about the hard times too. Those times that were hard and you chose to lean in and engage and walk away stronger. Those moments of grit that equipped you to become the person you are and the person you are becoming. Those moments are worth savoring too.

I think I wrote this for myself more than for anyone else, but if you are struggling like I am to be creative, to stay motivated, and to look into the future with bright anticipation because your view is still a bit cloudy from the last year....hang in there. Let's sit with it long enough to give it space and time to breathe. And only after we are ready, to run into this next season with reckless abandon-because I'm confident there are some pretty great things in store.

These are the days

Emily P. Freeman, who is one of the best voices I know on reflection, encourages her listeners to occasionally pause and write out glimpses into their current days.  What do my days look like these days, you ask?  You didn’t but I’ll tell you some of them anyways.

• These are the days of our whole family being at home all the day long.

• These are the days of bouncing around a fussy baby while simultaneously trying to teach a first grader and a preschooler.

• These are the days of so much spit up.

• These are the days of waking up every other hour.

• These are the days of listening to my kids play together for hours on end.

• These are the days of finding notes around the house from my son, telling me how much he loves me.

• These are the days of embracing a messy house.

• These are the days of learning how to be gentle with myself.

While navigating through a worldwide pandemic, attempting to homeschool for the first time, and re-remembering how to care for a newborn baby, I’d be lying if I said that most of our days are smooth-sailing or even moderately turbulent.  The truth is there are a whole lot of days where I feel like I’m just desperately clinging to my sanity while simultaneously trying to provide a space for my kids where they feel nurtured and safe…a grabbing my air mask and hoping that there’s another few hanging around somewhere for my family…kind of situation. And in the midst of some of the worst days - when I can tune my eyes to see it, there is so much beauty all around.  My son asking my daughter if she’d like him to read to her when she couldn’t go back to sleep.  My daughter crawling into my bed in the morning and asking if I can snuggle with her.  Holding my baby’s tiny little toes in the palm of my hand and taking a deep, sweet breath of her newborn baby smell.

These days are so incredibly fleeting.  I know this.  I also know that even on my worst days where I’m left daydreaming about the day that I send my kids back to school…I will look back and mourn the loss of having them home.  And what haunts me most days is thinking about how many hours I will have wasted focusing on how hard or miserable it all is rather than tuning my eyes to search for the beauty.  Embracing the hard as a part of a bigger picture that is chaotic and messy, but also one that is filled with so much beauty that it can take my breath away when I take it all in. 

Here’s what my hope is for this season…for myself and for all of us navigating our own hard in very profound ways. May we leave the laundry, forget about the dishes piled in the sink, pour ourselves a cup of coffee with a generous amount of cream (and maybe a little maple syrup), and be seekers of beauty.  And when it all goes up in flames, may we be relentlessly gentle with ourselves and find the beauty even in the midst of the blazing fire. 

the beautiful, the painful, and everything in between

I’ll be honest. There’s a lot about these past several months that have felt like a swift kick to the gut. Maybe it’s because Monday marks that day that my family and I were supposed to board a plane for Hawaii - a vacation that had been planned for over a year. We are not in Hawaii. We are not watching our kids play in the warm water. We are here. And I’m trying to allow myself to sit with this feeling that I often try to brush past, perhaps a bit too quickly. The pain of reality. The reality is that my son will not have a Kindergarten graduation this year. The reality is that my daughter left her first year of preschool one day, with no idea that she wouldn’t see her friends or her teachers for the remainder of the year. If I’m also honest, there is a lot of beauty that has unfolded during these past few months as well. However, I think often I don’t allow myself to feel the uncomfortable feeling of pain. When those feelings surface, it creates a kind of inner conflict that I’m wildly uncomfortable with. What follows is usually one of two things: I either feel guilty for not being more grateful for all the things in my life that are good and beautiful, or I brush right past the pain to get to the good. Is that just me or is that my peacemaker-nine-on-the-enneagram showing itself again?

There are a lot of great things about social media. However, I think that one of its greatest downfalls is the tendency we have to measure our worth by scrolling down and seeing squares of people living their best lives. We often see only the good and I know for myself, this often can lead to the downward spiral of comparison. Why doesn’t my life look like that? Why am I not creating a schedule of events that perfectly balances learning and play for my kids each day? Why am I not using this time of quarantine to do something more fruitful? My response is often to wait until I too feel like I have something exceptional to share. I think that this can further lead me avoid sitting with the things that don’t seem like they belong on the happy squares of social media, as well as to let all other great moments that are full of beauty and just short of exceptional, pass me by.

Here’s the thing…life is both breathtakingly beautiful and heart wrenchingly painful. The beautiful makes the pain more real and the pain makes the beauty more true. To live in one of those two extremes is to live a sort of one dimensional life that doesn’t serve myself or others well. I know that having this time with my kids at home is a rare and precious gift that I will never get back. Watching my kids play together for hours on end and watching their relationship deepen when they are usually apart most of the day, makes my heart so full. However, I also know that not having an ounce of time to myself has taken a toll on me that is real and true. I know that not seeing my clients and being able to use photography as a creative outlet as well as well as an extra source of income is hard. The elimination of all things “non-essential” has quieted the noise of distraction and allowed me to only see what remains. And while some of what remains is painful and hard, there sure are a lot of things that have always been here to take my breath away if only I had fixed my gaze for long enough to see them. And to feel the tension of all these things together is to feel alive.

So how to we hold both? You know what I’m going to say, don’t you? It’s the thing that constantly brings me back and grounds me. It’s the thing that allowed me to fall in love with photography: You slow and savor. You document. And whether that documentation for you looks like journaling, photography, creating, or any number of outlets, you let it linger long enough to get it all down. You feel the tension of both extremes without trying to dictate what the story looks like when you are all done. May we be a people who don’t see only the pain and who don’t rush too quickly into the beauty, but are able to hold space for both extremes and hold space for others to feel both extremes as well.

And to my clients who have turned into my friends - man, I miss you all! I can’t wait to get together again where I can document your family, comment on how big your kids have gotten, and catch up on life lived in between sessions. Meanwhile, I’ll just be here, reaching for my camera, even when I don’t really feel like it. May I point my lens to what resonates with me during this season - be it a thing of pain or a thing of beauty, and may it tell the story of a life lived to the fullest.

An Introduction

It occurred to me recently that in the two plus years I’ve had my business, I’ve never actually done a post to introduce myself.  This is for a few reasons: For one, in the name of full transparency, I despise things that seem self-promoting and I kind of chalked the introductory post into that category and decided to just stick to posting pictures I took.  Also, it didn’t seem totally relevant.  I could tell you all sorts of things about me but really, don’t you just want someone to take pictures for your family that you will cherish?  What does that have to do with my family or why I started my business, really?  Or maybe it does.  And that’s the conclusion I’ve come to that has resulted in this post.  

This picture was taken exactly two weeks after my son entered into this world.  Two weeks to the day after becoming a mom.  This picture brings back so many memories.  It was also the first time I met Kami, the amazing woman behind the lens that has photographed our family consistently ever since this picture was taken.  My kids know her, they love her, and we count on her visiting from Idaho, the state where she now resides, to take our pictures.  I remember the condo we were living in, and how it suddenly felt so different the first time I walked through the door with a newborn babe in my arms.  I remember the trail behind our house where I daily walked with Everett, eyes mesmerized at his eyes taking in the world.  Photos have this amazing ability to transport us back into time.  We see a picture and for some inexplicable reason, we can even remember the smells - the perfume I loved during that season of life, the way my son’s newborn baby skin smelled, and the list goes on.  

Well, during that season for me of so many firsts, I swore I wouldn’t forget.  I wouldn’t forget the learning to walk phase, the eating first foods phase, the first words, the things that made me laugh, made me cry, and everything in between.  But I did.  And then we had my daughter and things got exponentially worse.  Who loved avocados?  If Cora’s first word was “daddy” what was Everett’s?  How in the world do I capture all these things and also be present?  Surely I took pictures and wrote things down…but where?  And how do I organize them?  And what should I do with all these random jottings down of a momma who is desperate to remember?  

Let’s be clear.  I don’t have all the answers to all of these questions.  I have come up with systems and ways of organizing because if you know me you also know that coming up with organizational systems gives me life in ways I can’t describe.  I have picked up a few things along the way that I’d love to share with you, but I know that we need one another on this road of savoring and I think we all have a lot to share.  However, it was exactly in this space that This Savored Life was born.  It was born out of a desperate desire to slow and to savor.  To document each season of life and to do it well…for my family, for yours, and collectively as a community.  

When I launched this business I wanted it to be more than just pretty pictures.  I wanted to be a part of your story.  The one that is unfolding during this season of life and the one that will unfold four years from now.  The part of your story with one kid and the one with two kids later.  I also want to encourage you in how to savor - with pictures, sure, but with all the other things too.  I will be popping on here to share some of those strategies and I hope that you will share the things that are changing your life for the better too.  I want this to be a place of inspiration and community.  And when I reminded myself of all of this (during a run where I do my best thinking), my mind was reeling.  I have SO MANY things I want to share, but I want to know what YOU want.  What about parenting is getting in the way of savoring for you?  If you’re not a parent - what prevents you from savoring life? 

So I write this very longwinded post in a way to forewarn you of what’s to come.  You can count on more of the pictures that give me so much joy to take and to share.  However, I’m going to start tapping into some of the other aspects of savoring too.  If you feel stuck and want me to address something in particular - please ask!  If you don’t know what you want but want some ideas on how to slow down long enough to savor, I hope you’ll stick around for the ride.   

Summer Vibes

You know it’s a bad sign when you go to add a new blog (in June) and the last post you wrote is titled “The Best of 2018”. I’ll be honest - I’m probably overly sensitive to making sure that the content I write for you, be it in here or in the newsletter (that is equally as infrequent), is relevant to you and true to my business. I constantly have a stream of thoughts I’d like to write about and decide that it falls more into the category of personal journaling rather than anything that would interest any one of you. However, one thing I can’t stop thinking about lately is the balance of summer, business, and family. Anyone else?

As I write this, it’s been about a year and a half since I decided to start my photography business. I remember trying to think of what I wanted out of a photography business. At the time, I was a full time mom with a four year old and a one and a half year old. I had been subbing very infrequently and realizing that all that I loved about teaching was lost in subbing. It was a great way to put on a different hat and to make a little extra money from time to time, but the daily connection with kids and their families was lost. Furthermore, scheduling childcare was hard, often due to the last minute nature of subbing. So after some photography classes, practice, and a whole lot of encouragement from friends and family, I decided to turn a hobby into something I did professionally. All I was hoping for was something that would be at least as much as what I was making subbing. (I could talk about how I should perhaps set my goals a little higher, but I’ll leave that discussion for another time). What has resulted from this dream of mine has amazed me and humbled me. I hardly feel like I’ve had a moment to catch my breath and the thing is, I’m totally fine with that.

This summer, during what some might consider the busiest season as a photographer, I’m feeling torn between wanting to dive in head first into every opportunity that this season brings as a photographer and also wanting to just stop and take it all in. This fall that four year old I mentioned earlier is heading to Kindergarten and my daughter will be in preschool two mornings a week. I am continually mystified by time. How does it go so fast and how in the world can I slow it down, just for long enough to remember it all when the days come that I long for these days in my motherhood? I actually don’t know the answer, so if you do - please share! All I can do is to document, to stop and savor, and to keep doing that for each one of your families.

I have put the “marketing and advertising” aspect of my business on the back burner as I’ve taken a bit of time to be more intentional with my family. However, I’m still here. I’m still booking sessions…I’ve just been scheduling a few less than my normal each month, in an effort to soak in every last second with my kids before they head off to school in the fall and leave me with a house that is uncomfortably quiet for a few hours each week. And to you moms who have dropped your child off at Kindergarten to leave you for five days each week - and you transitioned well from that - please do tell me all of your secrets. I’m trying to gear up emotionally for the fall and I’m already fairly confident that I’m headed for a certain emotional disaster. I will be booking some mini sessions in August at Wild Hearts Farms as well as some at Fort Steilacoom - so if you are wanting to take advantage of this beautiful Northwest summer weather and get some family pictures, please stay tuned. I will be sending out dates in an upcoming newsletter - so if you aren’t subscribed to my newsletter, now would be a great time!

So here’s to this summer that we’ve only just begun. Here’s to dinners out on the patio, to kids up too late, to corn on the cob, and berry-stained faces….cheers. And in those moments that are a bit less romantic? In the sibling bickering, the chaos, the crazy schedules, and everything in between, may we have the gumption to stop and savor anyways. Happy summer, friends.

The Best Of 2018

As we approach the end of the year, I’m completely filled with gratitude. In my Fall newsletter, I had mentioned how busy this Fall was and how I wanted to do a ‘best of’ reflection of all the families I’d photographed during that busy season. I had also hoped to do a December Newsletter that wrapped up the year and presented it in a nice package in the form of an email. However, time is of the essence, both mine and yours- so I decided to wrap up the entire year with a few of my favorite pictures right here on my blog. Also, this would be a fine time to sign up for newsletters if you haven’t already so that you get it the next time I write one….I’m guessing this will be in January but I’m smart enough to not make such promises.

When I think back to January I was daring to wonder what it would be like to do family photography as a business. I had actually spent most of 2017 in this thought process as well - taking classes and refreshing my knowledge of the technical aspects of photography as well as learning about the business side. I’m a notorious over-thinker, so at some point it took some pushing from some of the people I had shared this dream with to convince me it was high time to stop thinking and start doing (I’m looking at you, Katie Bray). And here we are in December. I’m humbled each and every time a family trusts me enough to capture their season of life. It’s something I don’t take lightly and as I look back on the year, I’m in awe of how many families have weaved their way into my life and heart simply by saying yes to this dream of mine.

Above are some of my favorite pictures from the year. There are so many more….so. many. more. My dwindling hard drive space can confirm this reality, but here are some of my favorites. As a teacher who became a substitute teacher after I had kids, I realized that one of the things I missed the most about full time teaching was the continuing relationships that I built - not only with my students, but with their entire families. Family photography has gifted that back to me. I’ve had the privilege of photographing some families multiple times this year, seen their kids grow, see their families grow, and it makes my heart so full that I can’t believe that I actually get paid to do what I do. So, from the bottom of my heart - thank you. Thank you to each of you who have entrusted me to capture your family through photographs. Thank you to each of you who have followed me and supported me through this crazy adventure. Thank you to all my family and friends who have nudged me (or shoved me when necessary), encouraged me, challenged me, and allowed me to chase after this with everything in me. May these next few days leading up to the new year be filled to the brim with both rest and joy, and may you continue with me in 2019 to be a people who hunt for moments in each day that are worth savoring. Be looking for a newsletter in the new year that will talk about some exciting offerings and opportunities in 2019. In the meantime cheers to 2018, friends!

The Ministry of Ordinary Places

Three years ago in May, my family moved to Tacoma. This was the end of a very long and exhausting house hunt for our family. We started our search in Seattle and quickly realized our budget was too limiting. We were desperate for a home as our then toddler was getting active and the condo that we were renting seemed smaller by the day. As we widened our search and and opened our minds to different possibilities, one thing remained constant: no matter what city or town we searched in, our budget for a home always landed us in the neighborhood with a school with poor ratings. From both my experience as a teacher as well as a mom with good intentions, I made this one of my primary candidates for our future home. I vowed to only look at houses that fed into a “good” school…or if push came to shove, I’d settle for a solid average average school.

Fast forward to the closing of our home. Our perfect, 1928 craftsman home. I say the word “perfect” very loosely as in actuality when your house is almost 100 years old, there is at any given time about 1,003 things you can and should be doing to it. However, the home I dreamed about and prayed for was finally ours. Except for one thing…our neighborhood school wasn’t rated great, nor was it a solid average. It was a 1. A 1 out of a possible 10. It almost felt like a mockery of one of the things I clung so tightly to. Even still, the move, the house, the neighborhood (despite it’s questionable reputation) just felt right.

For the past three years I have been searching for the words for why it all felt so right. In a lot of ways - I still am. I have such a peace about our neighborhood and our house and I honesty can tell you that I want to grow old in this house. What some may call a starter house doesn’t feel like a starter house. In all of it’s imperfections, it’s perfect to me. However, Shannan Martin in her book The Ministry of Ordinary Places put words to what I’ve been searching to explain. She explains why grounding ourselves in our communities, growing roots and digging deep in the place where God has planted us, is the beginning of living into the calling that every single one of us has. She lives in a neighborhood that sounds similar to mine in a lot of ways, and the love of which she speaks about it and the people in it make me love my own place all the more. I don’t have to look far to find pain, but it’s always surrounded by beauty and I think that those two things together are the rhythm of this life we’ve been given.

If you’re wondering why I’m writing about all of this on my photography blog, there’s a couple reasons. Firstly, I think this has everything to do with savoring life. Most of my days feel very ordinary, but my determination to find something in the ordinary worth savoring is what developed in me a true love for photography. Secondly, I’m challenging myself to regularly walk through my neighborhood, camera in hand, and search for snapshots that illustrate why all of this matters, and I’m inviting you to do the same. Spoiler alert - you’ll be seeing some pictures of my neighborhood. I’d love for you to do the same and use #thissavoredlife to share your neighborhoods too. Together, let’s be a people who search for beauty and find ways to smooth out the sharp edges of pain in whatever ways we can.

“This is my prayer, that as we look around and locate pain, widening our scope when necessary, we’ll have the guts to take swift action. I pray that we’ll all go down together, arms linked, hoarse from shouting on behalf of those found at the short end of justice. I pray that down at street level, we’ll feel the tremor of God’s power and decide, once and for all, that our feet were made for low places and worthy battles. We’ll hang a scarlet cord from the window as our promise to keep meddling for the sake of the kingdom”. -Shannan Martin, The Ministry of Ordinary Places

Today is the release date for this amazing book. I was privileged to get an early copy and read it ahead of time just so I can tell you how good it is. I believe wholeheartedly in it’s message and the potential that it has to initiate true change. I bought an extra copy and would love to give it away to someone who uses #thissavoredlife to share your own neighborhood. If a bunch of you do, I’ll choose a winner to receive my extra copy in the next month or so. Happy hunting, friends.

my summer in 10 pictures

Lately I've been reading a lot by Emily P. Freeman who is very big on creating space in the craziness of life to "let your soul breathe".  One of the things she encourages everyone to do is to pause at the close of each season and reflect - to note the things that you're learning, the things that have worked really well, that haven't worked great - and just about anything else that comes to mind.  It's been a really life giving practice, so I decided to reflect on our summer through pictures.  Spoiler alert - you'll probably be seeing a similar post with each passing season.  

Our summer was a pretty perfect blend of busy and relaxing, which almost never happens.  It was the first summer that actually felt like a summer.  With Everett finishing his first year of Preschool in June, I, for the first time, actually felt a switch in the rhythm of our days as we transitioned into summer.  The pictures above are not exhaustive, but they do summarize how we spent many of our days.  We ventured out of our comfort zone and tried camping with kids -  potty training and all.  We packed a lot of picnic lunches, ate ice cream, logged some hours at our water table, and Jeff and I even snuck in a few date nights.  

I know it's not the end of summer yet....but even though it's only the beginning of August, I already can feel my attention being pulled to Fall.  I love the rhythms of our seasons and I think that's why I like this practice of reflection so much.  And the added bonus is that it forces me to go through my own pictures - a task I enjoy but often one that gets overlooked and buried under client sessions.  As we walk towards Fall, may we all continue to hunt for those moments we don't want to forget and savor them for all they're worth.