The past month has been spent getting ready for Christmas and spending time with family but I wanted to jump on and wish you all the merriest of Christmases and the happiest of holidays. I am blessed to have a job that I adore, a family that supports and loves me and friends, both far and near, that make me smile. I truly love this Christmas season and the opportunity to reflect on the gift of my Savior. My heart is full. Merry Christmas!
My first roll of film. Shot less purposefully because I couldn’t wait to see how they would turn out. Film is not for the impatient.
Film: Portra 400
Rated: 200
Lab: Walgreens local
And just because I couldn’t resist converting this one to black and white:
Like so many other photographers that I know, my journey into photography began with a desire to capture my family in a real and beautiful way. I wanted more than my, then, run-of-the-mill snapshots. I longed for pictures of my kids that were worthy of the coveted space above the fireplace. I wanted my house to be plastered with the connections between my children and my husband and I. And I wanted to be able to provide those images myself.
So I delved into the art of photography with both feet, as well as both my arms, my neck, my entire body. I took workshops, I spent hours poring over books at Barnes and Noble, I read online forums wee into the night. I pointed that camera at my kids until all I could get from them was a big fat hand telling me they had had enough.
And then I started my business. And it took off. And I was busy. So busy. Taking pictures of families, and seniors, and babies, and kids. Other peoples’ kids. Lots of pictures of other peoples’ kids. My clients’ walls are filled with beautiful pictures of their families and their kids.
And my walls are still empty.
That vision that jump started my journey into photography is still a vision. It has yet to be fulfilled. Like so many of my fellow photographers, my vision is still there, waiting for me to take the time to make it a reality. . Too often we are so busy working for clients that we miss capturing our own families as life passes by.
So I’ve decided that now is that time.
I’ve been lucky to have met so many incredibly talented and wonderful photographers during this journey who share the same desire to capture their own families in a real and beautiful way. I’m teaming up with eleven of these women on a very personal and meaningful project called, “What ________ Looks Like.”
Our goal is to capture our own families in a real and beautiful way. Some people call it “lifestyle”, some call it “real life”, some call it “unposed”. No matter what you call it, our desire is to snatch the moments that represent the relationships, the dynamics, the reality, the beauty, the truth, and the life of our families and record them here on our blogs as well as in print at the end of the project.
Each month we will each choose to fill in the blank with our word of choice. Some of us may choose to use the same word all year and some may choose to change it up each month. We will each link to the next photographer until our circle is complete.
We hope this project inspires you to take more pictures of your own families so that those moments that make your family unique will never be lost or forgotten.
This month I decided to do my best to capture the morning of the first day of school 2011. A typical, run-of-the-mill, ordinary school morning is hectic as can be. Add to that, first day of a new school year complete with school jitters, the anxiety of a new elementary school for my two littlest, and me hauling my camera all over the house, and I’m shocked that I was able to capture what I did of our morning craziness. But it’s all real and honest and us. Four kids, a mom, a dad, and a camera.
Enjoy.
Now head on over to see what Jennifer Nguyen | Snails and Pigtails Photography | Temecula, CA Photographer posted this month!
There are so many things that I love about being back in California. (I feel a blog post coming on…)
At the top of the list is being close to the OCEAN. Nothing compares.
There are a few things I miss about Idaho. At the top of the list is the FOOTE family.
So can you imagine my excitement when my two favorite things came together last weekend? The FOOTES at the OCEAN!
They came with their 4 boys as well as our other friends, the Bennetts, who brought their 3 boys. So, with our 3 boys and Maddy, we had 10 boys under the age of 18 and 1 lucky (or unlucky depending on who you ask) girl.
First stop was Bryan’s family home, complete with a reservoir filled with fish.
Then we headed to Rio Del Mar Beach for a sunset bonfire.
It was so fun to see you all! ! ! Can’t wait until next time ….
To read more about this creative journey I’m taking with 19 fellow photographers, click HERE or check under “categories” above.
Emotion
We had quite an emotional week this past week. My 12 year old son’s Little League baseball team won the 2011 Tournament of Champions. Now that may seem like no big deal to those of you who don’t have kids who play baseball. Then again it might seem like a pretty big accomplishment to those of you who do.
For our family, it was HUGE!
And here’s why.
Jack was born with a complex heart defect called HLHS. When he was diagnosed at 18 hours old, we had three options; do nothing and take him home to pass away peacefully within his first two weeks, put him on the heart transplant list and hope for an infant heart to become available, or allow him to undergo a series of three “experimental” open-heart surgeries, the first of which would be done within his first 3 days of life. After much gut-wrenching thought and lots of prayer, we decided to allow him to undergo the surgeries.
Jack's second surgery at 3 months old.
His first and most complex surgery took place when he was 3 days old. I won’t go into details about what takes place during that day long procedure, only that his heart was intentionally stopped for part of the procedure. During his month-long recovery at the hospital, I remember speaking with his cardiologist about what we could expect his prognosis to be. I remember him telling me that because of the deprivation of oxygen with this type of heart defect, his limitations could range anywhere from brain damage to difficulty grasping a raisin with his finger and thumb. But no matter what, we shouldn’t expect Jack to participate in competitive sports. As much as I craved him giving me solid hope, the cardiologist said only time would tell. I did wear him down enough that one day he came into the room with a picture of a dark-haired boy about 6 years-old who looked healthy and who, he said, was leading a pretty normal life. But that he couldn’t promise that Jack would follow the same path.
Well that was the glimmer of hope I needed. I grasped onto that image during the next several years as Jack underwent his final two surgeries. As he finally didn’t need a feeding tube anymore. As the oxygen tank, that had taken up residence in our family room corner and whose tube snaked throughout our little house, was wheeled away. As we no longer woke to the piercing cries of the apnea monitor at night. As we no longer had to get up in the middle of the night to give the half dozen needed medications. As Jack began to crawl. As he began to walk and talk and laugh and smile and run. As that glimmer of hope turned into our reality.
When Jack was a newborn we were told not to expect a lot. Academically. Physically.
When Jack was four he had read and memorized every fact and figure in his animal encyclopedia.
When Jack was six he could ride his bike.
When Jack was nine he had written a 30-page play with parts for each of his friends.
And when Jack was twelve he decided he wanted to try baseball. For the very first time. So we said, “Sure”.
He was put on the Dodgers team. The team who had won the championship two years in a row. Who went undefeated one of those years. With kids who many had played together for years. We said, “Yikes!”
But with the very best coaches in the league, and as far as I’m concerned, in the world. Coaches who accepted him ‘as is’ and took him under their wing and taught him patiently week in and week out. Who taught him all the things that he needed to know to be an asset to the 2011 Dodgers.
And together they practiced and played week in and week out during rain and shine, cold and heat. Working hard and winning week in and week out. Eventually winning the League Championship. And finally winning the Tournament of Champions this past Tuesday evening.
There were tears of joy, slaps on the back, high fives, and fist bumps.
For the players and coaches it was a Little League victory they had wanted from day one.
But for our family, it was more than just a Little League victory.
It represented all that is possible.
And it all began with a glimmer of hope.
Now go check out what my friend and fellow photographer, Aubry Startin of Startin Photo|Arizona Photographer has in store for this week’s theme of EMOTION.
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