Nick + Becca | Walker's Overlook Wedding

"because same, no we’re not the same 

but that’s what makes us strong"

home -- dierks bentley 

Becca was the little girl in my parent's church group.  Becca was the pretty little girl with enormous dimples in my parent's church group.  Becca was the pretty little girl with enormous dimples who loved to draw, paint, read and write in my parent's church group.  A modern-day, kind-of-country version of Belle.  And she grew up.  With a college degree and a diamond.  I'll never forget meeting with her before the wedding. "Tell me about you and Nick?  I don't know him aside from what's on Facebook, and I've never met him!" She paused for a moment, a smiled -- she always smiles -- "Well." Another pause.  It was if she had something she wanted to say, but was looking for an Option Two. With her hands gently crossed over well-postured torso she finally spilled the beans: "Nick and I are madly in love! I'm just, we're, well, we're crazy about each other.  I really didn't know it could be like this.  I'm so in love with him."  She physically saturated as she spoke: her eyes greener, her cheeks peachier, her lips raspberrier.  Becca didn't necessarily feel ready to be married.  She thrived in school, and is passionate about literature and great stories and diligent creativity.  Her china-doll appearance is wonderfully matched with her firm, yet gentle, resolve.  School, it was!  And then? Maybe teaching?  Maybe traveling?  Maybe more school?  Until... Nick.  He lived a few hours away and they met at an area conference.  She resisted the best she could but it was a brief resistance.  She snapped open like a pixie stick, and sweet wonder came pouring out.  With a couple of semesters left of college, a semi-long-distance-madly-in-love-relationship, and pending wedding -- marriage! lifetime! -- Becca had her work cut out for her.  And she rose to the magical, devoted challenge. I love, throughout each wedding day, when "it" catches up with a bride.  For me it happened at three times: mid-way through getting my make-up done, waiting to walk down the aisle, and driving away in the limo with my husband.  Each moment was just... there aren't words, there aren't descriptions.  I could try, but it would sound like naive, foolish gush-sauce.  The moments were other-worldly and moments that simply cannot be recreated or re-lived.  They happen and *poof* they are a bold memory.  Watching Becca as she saw herself in her dress for the first time took me back.  It was as close to re-living my moment as could be while I enjoyed her having her moment.  (Ps. Her crazy great mama did a little jig to try to make her laugh and stop crying.  Brilliant.) The day was everything it should have been.  Becca grew up in a white-porch-hugged country home, at the bottom of a grassy green valley in the first rural town outside of our suburban area.  As children we loved visiting their house -- go carts! creeks! the country store across the street! barefeet! dogs!  When I watched Becca, so lovely and so poised, wander around on the rolling green property of Walker's Overlook I was overcome with the scene.  It had an illustrious rightness.  If the buzz before a ceremony could be bottled and sold someone would be eternally wealthy.   The waft of perfumes as female guests arriving, newly primed, the loud cackle every few minutes that hushes into reverence, the clangling of earrings and bracelets and wrist watches and sunglasses, the final strums of a practicing musician, crriiick as humans bend into their seats, the flutter of green leaves, like a chime.  It took much time to arrive here, and yet! Here we are! The time is now and it can almost feel rushed -- natural, and right, and good -- but striking when it's "suddenly" the beginning of your wedding. As sweet as it was that Becca declared her mad-and-hard fall into love with Nick, it wasn't that she was in love that I remember as much as who she was in love WITH.  You see, in so many ways Nick is Becca's opposite.  I more and more find that couples personalities may be "opposite" but often they have a core of similarity.  But not so with Nick and Becca.  He his idea of a great night is wings and the game.  He loves his softball team and league.  He works hard with his hands, dances like a ninja racoon in the moonlight, and loves to entertain the crowd.  He's active, social, athletic, and friendly.  His sense of humor is impossible to miss and, well, he's just not the tortoise-shell-glasses-wearing, studious, book worm nerd we all always predicted for Becca.   And when I see pictures of her at huge Halloween parties dressed to the nines as a Marilyn Monroe, or at family reunions in the great outdoors pulling ropes in giant tug-a-war I just smile.  I love it.  I love the various and many interests and life tugs these two have.  I love that a powerhouse athlete turned his head for a shy poet.  I love that there was electricity, friendship, and unity.  I love that being married has meant brave steps (since they've been married for almost a year now!) I love that Becca has jumped headfirst into her art, building a handsome business.  And I love that she has the support and companionship in her dearly beloved opposite.

(sweet memory: my parent's were guests at this wedding, and mom held two-week-old rowdy for me while i worked.  i loved going through to choose pictures for this post and coming across her in the background, chatting with friends or eating or holding my son.  i'm grateful for this special last wedding event together.)

The entire day was a noticeably bright, festive, big-fat-great, especially smiley celebration.  These firecrackers have so much fun, new, and ever-different ahead of them.  I'll close with a few lines I read this morning from Seth Rogen, goofy-guy-next-door actor: "In movies they like to portray marriage like 'Oh, the wife and husband are always arguing and bickering. For me and my wife, the easiest part of life is [our] marriage. Like if everything was as smooth and easy and fun as my relationship with my wife then I would have a much easier time getting through the day. We really get along..."  I loved this sentiment, and it is my own personal experience.  I saw it fitting for Becca and Nick because -- despite the odds, the miles, the cheese nachos -- they just get along and sure are crazy about each other.  Happy (late!) Wedding Day!  It was an absolute blast, as I'm sure your marriage and life is as well! (ps.  Happy Birthday, today, Becca!)

The Gasca's | Maryland Family Portraits

"at the end of all my faith,  till the end of all my days,  when I forget my name,  remind me." andrew peterson A little more waiting, a little more crying, a little more time.  There is a place for everything.  But who among us could hold out hope, could continue to believe, or even wish, unless we had tastes of the happiest things?  We live in this world of the charmed and the damned; a time for everything.  In other worlds, in other days, there won't be times for everything.  Only time for good things.  So we hope for Splendor, and live in the pig pen, and watch the sunrise and wish, believe, hope.  This small family has had their mourning times, their quiet times, their pained times.  But in the gold crackle of autumn, they found themselves in a dancing time, a laughing time, a living time.  New Baby Cruz - teeny and particular - , teasing and jokes, togetherness, tastes of days over the rainbow.   These pictures, this family are promise to me.  "In the face of chaos, baby, I can dance with you.  We're dancing in the minefields, sailing through the storm.  He's promised not to leave us, His promises are true.  I can dance with you."  Thank you for allowing me sixty minutes into your sixty years.  I loved pressing pause in the backyard and making your first days as a family of three stand still, for just a moment.   --- | --- | --- | --- | --- | --- to book your own i'm kristen home-family session,  especially in the maryland/virginia/dc, new york/boston, or oklahoma to dallas areas E-MAIL ME HERE (i'll also be traveling around southern california + the lake tahoe/nevada areas in coming months.)

The Whiteside Family | Home Family Sessions

“after all," anne had said to marilla once,  "i believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those  on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens  but just those that bring simple little pleasures,  following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”   l.m. montgomery | anne of avonlea The story of her life is charmed, relatable and yet entirely dreamy.  Anne of Avonlea has had a handsome way with words for years.  "...like pearls slipping off a string..."  The best part of her simile is the reality of a broken necklace.  Most women, no doubt, would moan and clench if their real pearl necklace snapped and the beads strolled off one by one.  There's the profundity: life rips apart sometimes, lots of times, but look!  Isn't it neat how the pearls slide off the string?  Simple pleasures,  small instances,  a crocus crown working to stand tall in the snow.   And, so, here are the simple pleasures that can perhaps be missed in the breaking, the moaning, the frustrating.   The financial issues, the church issues, the relationship issues, the health issues, the house issues, the greater-world issues.  Here is a home, a family, a house and some of their best pearls.  Meet  steel-eyed Nora, and her copper hair.  She's the little lass of the household.  Her mama, Ashley, is an interior designer -- making the world around her beautiful is her speciality.  Nora's pops is a pastor and all-around good, kind man.   Currently this sweet family of three have friends living with them.   These friends are doing coffee-shop ministry.  They have given their life to creating comfortable, inviting spaces made for meeting and knowing people.  And, of course, drinking coffee.  "Come in!  Welcome!  It smells good, hey?  Sit for a while.  Come back again soon: bring friends."  Their love of people, all shapes and ages, and well-made coffee aren't just for "work," either.  Little Nora looks at them like I imagine she would look at the midnight stars.  They purposefully teach her the ropes, and she takes their confidence seriously.  She has each and every step of coffee-making memorized, written on her heart.  She copy-cats these two and her infectious pride and adoration is impossible to miss.  They even do yoga together! Okay, so the coffee was a little weak.  And the meditation and exercise benefits are a little cut short when a toddler is your teammate.  One pearl, two pearls slipping off the strand.  Simple pleasures, little stories, memories made. Special games with daddy fill the house and murmur onto the front porch.  Story time is where imaginations, vocabulary and life-skills begin to engage; where they sprout so green and bright.  Nora is an old-soul, with a watchful mind.  She examines the people around her, and watches -- learns! -- what they do.  She is her father's need to learn; her mother's need for order and systemic beauty.  She wanders off along, and also nuzzles and laughs until she can't breathe.  That day has passed, those pearls have fallen, the problems of the morning are gone now, and the joys of the evening are another piece in the jewelry box; the beautiful, shining, display case of a family and their life lived in the nicest, sweetest days.  Thank you for welcoming me into your home and hearts, Whitefield family!  I'll be sure to be back again.   --- | --- | --- | --- | --- | --- to book your own i'm kristen home-family session,  especially in the maryland/virginia/dc, new york, or oklahoma to dallas areas E-MAIL ME HERE (i'll also be traveling around southern california + the lake tahoe/nevada areas in coming months.)

Family Room Sessions for Mama Bear

"Action saves lives, awareness does not."

Erin Santos in the Huffington Post

The last couple of weeks, in particular, mom has spent a lot of time in our family room.  A typical day for her would be sleeping in the morning for as long as she can (it still riddles me how a body can be tired and yet not able to sleep.  Sleep is a gift.)  She'll come down to the couch and rest there until it's time for a soccer game.  She watches from the car and honks when her baby scores or does something impressive.  We take her home for dinner and more rest.  Most of the day I get to be with her and it's precious.  We sometimes run little errands together.  We watch the kitchen come closer and closer to completion.  We go through the late morning talk show line up -- Rachael Ray and Access Hollywood, The View and The Chew, and Ellen.  She naps to worship music on iTunes radio.  We let Rowdy do tricks for us and we respond adoringly.  And we talk.  We've talked about ten years ago when her cancer first popped up.  It's actually hard to think about.  She found a lump and went to get it checked right away.  She was told "it was nothing."  If I could go back in time... goodness.  Though her own mother had died from breast cancer, and was first diagnosed with it in her forties, and cancer is in her family history, this particular doctor's office announced "It was nothing" and that was that.  One year, and one baby later, my mom went back.  It was still there and she wanted another opinion.

Lo and behold it was a cancerous lump and, shocker!, it had spread into her lymph nodes during the year.  It's hard to think about how different our lives would be if one person had done their job thoroughly.  If it hadn't been able to spread and hideaway inside her.  (Trust us, we know. We know her days are numbered and we know God is in control of her life and our lives.  We know nothing happens apart from Him -- whatever that means exactly.  And most of all we know that He is the One who makes all things good.  Even errors on the job ten years ago.  Still sucks.) 

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  This post was supposed to kick off the month, not end it. But here I am, in October, with a request and a plan.  "Awareness" is an iffy word and idea.  Action, like Ms. Santos says, "saves lives."  Take the knowledge and do something with it.  Check yourself, and get mammograms, and if you feel something follow up on it.  If you are told "It's nothing." but you have a gut feeling it is something, get a second opinion right away.  Search it out until you are satisfied. Get it removed anyway, just in case.  Pay attention.  

Prevention, prevention, prevention.  Act on prevention.  Know what prevention means, and take the time to be sure.  Mixing all these things together (Breast Cancer Awareness Month, family room time, emphasis on prevention) I'm running a Family Room Photo Session for you and your lovies and bunnies.  

Here are the details: 

WHEN | november ninth + sixteenth
WHAT | a photoshoot in your family room of your family being a family.
HOW MUCH | $500 for an hour session and 40 edited digital files.
WHY | 50% of the session fee will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation,
(these lovely people are focused on prevention and early detection.)

I have four slots available -- the morning of November ninth, and the afternoon of November ninth, the morning of November sixteenth, and the afternoon of November sixteenth.  If you are interested in a session please e-mail me at kristen leigh photography at gmail dot com with the slot you'd like to fill.

Like I mentioned about, 50% of these family sessions will be donated in my mother's honor and name.  And, of course, anyone is welcome and encouraged to donate whatever you can.  If someone's "ten years from now" can be a less cancerous one because of our mama's story, I'd be a blessed daughter.

Perhaps the best "action" that can be taken is to love your family "so long as it is today."

From our family room couch,

Kristen + Mama B

Mama's Birthday | Personal

i had the best day with you,
today.
taylor swift - best day

We had a lovely time with the family for mama's birthday.  While Caleb and I were dating we visited the farm-to-table restaurant Grandale Farm.  We couldn't shut up about the views and the chicken-avocado-cilantro soup.  For years now my mom has wanted to visit and eat there too -- a 55th Birthday Lunch is the perfect excuse!  The last week or so has been especially hard for her.  She's almost finished with her ten days of brain radiation, but goodness, it's been exhausting and intense.  We were all hoping she'd have a bit of a break, but it really hasn't been :-/  (If you'd like to follow the blog I'm doing Mama Bear Updates on, go here.)  It was actually especially sweet to be together for her birthday in the middle of all the yuck.  The food was perfect (if you ever go, get the pig mac-and-cheese) and we went to an antique store that is closing down after 40 years (everything is 40% off!) to find mom some pretty blue + white dishes and treats for her new kitchen.  We laughed and really had fun and got along.  Doesn't get better than that :) (We missed you, Timmy!)

"Do not despise the day of small things." Zechariah 4:10

Alan + Lisa | Billingsley House Wedding

they try and they try
but everything that they do
is the ghost of a trace
of a pale imitation of you
kathleen - josh ritter

Our friendship began with an e-mail I received in the wicked throes of morning sickness.  I knew I should be working hard and blogging lots and preparing for next season and getting pumped with every inquiry in my inbox... but.  The only thing I could get remotely peppy over was Coke Slurpees from 7-11.  

"...My fiancee and I got engaged last Thursday, 

and my first thought after escaping her anaconda squeeze was

'First thing's first, contact Kristen Leigh!' 

I first found out about your work in 2009 through a friend...

Well, it's been been three years, two years with my girlfriend/fiancee, 

and we would both be honored to have you as our photographer. 

However, like your website says, we might not be the perfect fit...

So in an effort to see if we can all be friends, 

here is a brief look into the odd world of Lisa and Alan:

We love our faith 

and we love each other (I proposed in her closet).

She is a teacher. 

I am a graphic designer. 

I'm not wearing socks in this picture (she hates it when I do that).

Whenever she comes over, it's a real gem for us

 to catch my dad taking a nap mid work out 

(it should be noted he's wearing gardening gloves)."

Included in the e-mail were ridiculous photographs of a clearly well-humored couple and Alan's dad, asleep on the floor wearing gardening gloves.  We all became instagram friends and gave advice on the best food trucks in NYC.  We met on a rainy day to make things "official" and after we said good-bye they sent me a picture of themselves wearing fake beards.  Their deposit arrived in my mailbox with a hand-drawing of donuts eating each other.  And their contract arrived with laugh-out-loud stories and a vision for a "block party with fatty southern comfort food" reception.  Oh.  And their response when I told them I was due near (very near) their June 1 wedding date (I said so nervously because I didn't want to scare them away!) was "Awh! Kids! Go kids! We love kids!"  We are obviously a perfect fit because all three of us went gung-ho for the idea of working together at their June 1 wedding, while I had a pending June 6 Baby (who came a full eight days late! I knew he would be late!).  It was worth the risk and I'll forever be really glad I was the visual storyteller of this particular wedding.

Pandora was keeping the mood just right all morning.  At one point the Michael Buble version of "Just Haven't Met You Yet" played.  Lisa's mom started calling and calling her from the front room in the hotel suite.  "LISA! Lisa! Listen Lisa!  It's your song!" 

Lisa laughed - not a disrespectful laugh, but a thoroughly entertained laugh.  "Lisa! Do you hear it? He came out of nowhere, into your life! Yah!"   Lisa looked over at me "When I was single, my mom always told me this was 'my' song. 'Thanks, mom.'  Isn't that what all parents say though?  And then I started dating Alan and she told me 'Now you HAVE met him yet!' 'Mom,' I'd tell her, 'I've known Alan for ten years! I met him a long time ago!' But she insists its our song."





Their "friendship before loveship" stories is one of the great ones.  I love when companionship and jokes and trust doubles down and adds romance and commitment.  It's why I roll my inside-eyes when girls say "I could never marry him, he's like my brother."  And why would life be so bad with a person so close, they already feel like family, who you can pick their boogers and teeth, who tease you about your unimpressive ("but good effort!") punchlines, who you want to hang out with because it's always more fun and comfortable when they're around?  Who happen to have great lips for kissing? Alan and Lisa are no fools.

Some of the best moments of your life are the ones right before the ceremony begins.  There is energy in breeze, hushed tones among the guests, tears and solemnity and a dashing heart and smiling hard because the happiness is so real it's like you can grab it off a tree and taste it's sweet apple fruit juice in your mouth.  It's a heart-whipping ride, those minutes, and one that can be only experienced, not described.



































After the beauty and honor of their union, we arrived at The Billingsley House for pictures, memories, and a party.












(Why do old bathrooms always have the most interesting light?  Can't go over it, can't go under it, must go through it... so into the bathtub the bride-in-heels and photographer-with-nearly-no-balance go!





Lisa's friend custom made her dress (and the bridesmaid dresses, too!).  "I love to twirl in it.  It's my favorite, when I twirl.  I like twirling."

























You know how there are some people in this world that are funny and make you laugh ha ha ha and then there are those who are so funny that you feel a little self-concious and jealous, and wonder what it takes to have the quickness and randomness and rightness in conversation that they have?  Hello.  Meet these two.  (I sent them over "near the door... and go ahead and dance a little in the entry way."  Most couples hold each other close and sway, maybe a spin or dip if they're feeling cray-cray. Hello.  Meet these two.)







cxc











What may be my favorite couple-quality of hello! these two! is how happy they make being together seem.  They're lovely, witty, smart, kind people on their own.  They are. But teamed up?  Side by side?  It's the cheese-balliest, most contagious, real happy.  A Happy that is full of faith, trustworthiness, appreciation for beauty, love for people of all ages and shapes and sizes, and an addiction to great food.













"I will put you in a spell... and you'll... have to... be my wiiiife!"

"I already am your wife.  Wasted spell."






(Props to a groom who is super involved in almost every area of wedding planning... who is a graphic designer to boot!  The favors were "Tunes For The Ride Home."  Genius.)










This cornbread was the King of CornBread.  Moist but not soggy, corn-y, perfect.





























That's exactly it.  Oh, a happy day.  In every way.  Certainly just the front end of a oh-happy life.  (Ellie Be + Hello Fabulous Photography... thank you for being amazing.  Rowdy probably would have been born at a table with some cornbread if it weren't for you two!)          

Introducing, Our Son, Rowdy

crickets calling wing to wing 
someday baby you will sing
tanya goodman - someday baby

(ALL picture credit to our "life" photographer, Lydia Jane.  

I can't wait to be able to do the same for you someday, friend, so you'll know how much of a blessing aaaaalll these pictures are to us.)

On June 14, just minutes after ten o'clock in the evening, Caleb and I met and held and looked at our son in person - and he looked at us back.   He was flawless - rosy pink, pudgy, smooth and snuggly.  Our string bean weighed seven pounds, twelve ounces and was almost twenty-two inches long.  My mom says he's the strongest baby she's ever seen.  His hands and feet are huge.  We love his long spindly fingers and knobby knees.  Heck, we love everything about him.



The little "tornado" hair swirl on the back of his head.
The fact that when he was born he didn't have a double chin,
but the night after we came home from the hospital he did.
The weird cross-eyed kissy-lip face he makes when he seems confused.
The sole "WAH." he'll blurt out when he's tired but wants attention. Not a string of fussing - just dozing in and out of awakeness with a random "WAH!" It's hilarious.
The way his little knuckles leave marks in our skin when we hold him still for an hour.
The power kicks and almost-roll-overs (seriously!) and dreamy smiles every time he sleeps.
The eye-contact and how he knows my voice.
The voice daddy makes only for Rowdy.
The way time runs together in finger-paint-ease; hours float together and somehow it's been a week?  Already?
The way everyone - everyone - responds to his presence.  Our families, our friends, strangers at Chick-fil-a and Target, the doctor and nurses.  Everywhere we go people smile and chat and come out of their shells.  He brings out kindness and love.
The idea that God loves us as naturally, easily, eagerly and tenderly as we love Rowdy.  And then some.  We're the King's babies and I love getting to experience the parent-side of this love.  It makes me tear up when I think about God - He really, really does love me.  Wow.

ROWDY

spirited and enthusiastic; full of liveliness, vigor, or courage 

At our almost-10-week appointment, we were able to watch Rowdy on the sonogram screen for a few minutes.  He was the size of a green grape, and we obviously didn't know he was a "he" yet.  His head was still larger than the rest of his body.  We heard his heart pumping away, steady like a Native American drum beat.  His arms, about as long as two grains of rice, were up along his face, with his fists resting next to the place his ears would be.  Initially he was completely still, but as the technician moved the wand and "prodded" him, he stirred.  His big head slowly rocked side to side and his arms batted across the screen.  When the tech didn't stop, he began furiously kicking his legs and swimming "away."  His arms pumped harder and he spun himself over so we could see his back.  I cried, Caleb cheered him on and the tech laughed: "Wow!  What a lively little guy you have!"  He was so human and animated and... tiny!... and ours.

At our 20-week appointment, when we found out Rowdy was a dude, he started out asleep and laying perfectly still.  But after a few minutes he began to karate-jab the doppler.  One HARD kick/punch, right in the center of the wand.  Once it was hard enough to cause the tech's hand to lift up into the air!  He didn't "kick kick kick kick."  No, it was a single, aimed, full-force kick followed by another minutes later.  I cried again.  As the tech continued, he took matters into his own hands and rolled over, made himself into a "tent" with his butt pointed up, and was on lock-down so we could't "get in" and see.  He wouldNOT budge.  I know he was awake.  I know it.  Feisty muffin.

The single-punch "get off of me!" moves only continued into the pregnancy.  The midwives always commented on how especially strong and vigorous he was.   So when we came across the name "Rowdy" and read what it meant, it just seemed to fit our boy.  We had a different name we were 99% sure we were using (and we even called him it before he was born!) and we had two other "contenders."  But once we had him in our arms, the other names just weren't "him."  They weren't our spirited, animated, determined, enthusiastic, sandy, rowdy Rowdy.

Baby, we are praying that you will indeed be a spirited person, truly full of courage.  Brimming with life!  Life is a super great gift, and we want you to enjoy it and the One who gave it with all your heart.  There is so much good to be savored, even when the hard is raging.  

"God gives life and possessions, and the ability to enjoy them... 

and be to happy in our toil —this is a gift of God...

God keeps them occupied with gladness of heart."

ecclesiastes 5:18/20

NEIL

passionate champion; victorious 

"You belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory..."

Caleb and I both look back on our walks with God and our lives in Him and agree that we didn't understand the entirety of the gospel for far too long.  I used to think "the cross" was "the gospel."  When asked I could easily say "Jesus died for my sins!" (using the five fingers on my hand for each word).  The Gospel was the story of God dying for His people and thereby saving them from the wrath they deserved - all because of Love.  

What we failed to cherish in our hearts, minds and souls was that this was only a part of the gospel.  It's a beautiful, intense, necessary, moving, real part of the gospel of grace.  But it isn't the whole story.  It's not all of the good news.  The rest of the good news is that now that we are saved, we get, we are entitled to, we are heirs of the greatest gifts.  The rest of the story is that Jesus didn't just die, but He rose.  He rose from hell and beat death.  Death lost.  He won.  If the gospel was "the story of the cross" we would miss out on the benefits of the empty grave and the filled throne.  Because He not only lived, and not only died, and not only lived again, but He returned Home, with eternal scars in His palms, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, and entered the Holy Places with our adoption papers, ready to intercede on our behalf forever.  We aren't waiting to find out what the final score will be, we are waiting for the awards ceremony.  We know who won.  We know what the prize is.  We're now celebrating the victory of the grace, unshackled and unashamed, never to be bound by sin or death or fears or flesh or Satan or Hell or powers or hate or evil again. We're celebrating now.  "You have already won.  You belong... now."

"Are you also confused? Is our champion helpless to save us? 

You are right here among us, Lord, and we are known as your people!” 

"...keeping our eyes on Jesus, the Champion who initiates and perfects our faith.

 Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. 

Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne. "

"Christ is risen from the dead 

Trampling over death by death 

Come awake, come awake!"

We happily gave our son the middle name "Neil" in honor of his great-grandfather's brother, Neil Morris and his son Neil Morris Jr., his grandfather, Terry Neil Morris, and his father, Caleb Neil Morris.  No matter what the name meant, we would have wanted to carry this tradition on for the fourth generation.  But wow.  What a perfect definition.   The error in thinking of the gospel "only" as the cross displayed itself in manic obsession with personal obedience, fear and shame when we made mistakes, disappointment with ourselves over and over as we failed time and again, harsh and stony judgement of those who lived in ways we disapproved of, robotic adherence to the rules, and hunger for the praise and approval of the Christian people we respected.   We "so quickly deserted the one who called us to live in the grace of Christ and turned to a different gospel— which is really no gospel at all."

Baby, we are praying and planning and so looking forward to raising you in the triumphant, sweet news we hold so dear.  We can't wait to tell you the stories of the generations that have gone before you - your family tree is incredible.  How you even exist is incredible.  We can't wait to tell you all the lessons we have learned from our parents and grandparents.  We want to live out life with you as as happy, free, rejoicing people, and we want you to join our singing.  That's our greatest prayer, Rowdy Boy.

Rowdy, being yours has been really nothing but wonderful.  Wonder upon wonder.  And just when we think we couldn't love you more, you do something (like hiccup) and our hearts somehow have room for just a little more love.  We're so happy you're here.

"Oh well I look at you and say

'It's the happiest that I've ever been'

And I'll say I no longer feel I have to be James Dean

And she'll say 'Yah well I feel all pretty happy, too'

And I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you."

Five Years Time - Noah and The Whale

StoryTime WorkShop Re-Cap | Part 1

S T O R Y T I M E    W O R K S H O P    R E - C A P 

Right off the bat, I hoped that the StoryTime WorkShop would be more of a retreat, a vision re-setter, a time to be thrown into someone else's story, a getaway.   There is much I could say, but what I'd most want to tell you about our weekend was the people I met.  Five delightful lives.  I spent a lot of time watching them work, talk and interact.  I love them.  And I love how we all connected.  It's a little risky to say "Hey!  Five strangers!  Come stay in my basement apartment, while my family of nine lives upstairs, and I share the space with you... and my husband!"  If it didn't work, it would have been awfully uncomfortable.  But the magic was there and it was as lively, relaxed and comfortable as I was hoping.  And without further ado, I want you to meet (or re-meet) these savory women:

“Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. 

Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon.  

Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves.  

Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. 

Write like you have a message for the king!  Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.” 

S T E P H   M A T T H E W S  // taylor clark photography

There's a ring on her hand, and a song in her heart.  I couldn't quite find the perfect word to describe her - she's systematic and thorough and professional and wonderfully clumsy and goofy and fake-gangster.  "My fiance says I'm 'corky.'" Yes! That's it corky.  Cute and dorky ;)  She can barely talk about anything she cares about without crying, and she doesn't know what "half-in" means.  She's irresistible and feisty.  She drips food on herself and laughs heartily while finding a rag to clean up.  She accidentally bumps people when she's talking because the stories sometimes get grander than herself and who can pay attention to arms and hands when you're in the middle of something great?  She's a playful little girl in a statuesque, head-turning body.  She's a strong woman, in a bouncy world.   

H A I L E Y   H U G G I N S // photos by hailey

She's Georgia.  Sunny, dimpled, and demure.  We never called her Hailey.  Georgia Huggins, it's perfect.  Especially with that "coquettish, southern girl smile, the kind you could pour over waffles."  She's - to be sickeningly cliche - all peaches n' cream, but let me be square:  she is no fruitcake.  Tough and fierce.  Confidently kind.  Helpfully stubborn.  She's matter-of-fact, business minded, and doesn't take herself too seriously.  I mentioned to her that I love how most of her profile pictures are her making "stupid" (not duck) faces.  "Seriously though, do girls know they don't have to look good ALL THE TIME?  It's okay to look dumb sometimes!"  Her lack of "trying" is one of her most endearing qualities.  Especially when who she is is so light-hearted and nice.  Stubborn, of course.  But sincerely happy and wanting those around her to be happy, too.  She's hard to not be drawn to immediately, and to want to be your sister forever.

M E G A N  L U C K E R O T H // megan luckeroth blog

Megan was our brilliant iceberg.   She notices, processes, thinks through, and understands far more than she "hands out."  She doesn't blab or rant.   It's like you can nearly feel the poetry when she is around.  She is one of the most fascinating presence's I've ever met, with an intensely beautiful mind - shaded and shadowed and colorful and vibrant - and eyes that take it in, and lips that speak about it slowly.  You get the feeling that she sees things no one else does.  That she appreciates or is moved by or tickled to laughing-tears by a details that most our world would miss.  But somehow she's not an "iceberg" in the sense that she's impossible to crack or difficult to interact with.  She's so warm and delicate and grace-filled - a calming breeze.  She makes me want to ask her questions and hear your perspective.   

H A N N A H  M A R T I N // hannah nicole blog

God decided to describe her with adjectives by making her look like what she is like.   Wide-eyed, specifically.  A short ballerina of a lady, with eyes that are fairy-like nearly confusing and hair that is unruly and carefree.  She asks some of the most heartfelt questions and recites the words of authors easily.  She's chatty and silly and is searching, always.  She is decisive and confident, and sincerely pleasant and inspiring.  It doesn't take long to guess that she is the oldest daughter in a big family - she has that unmistakeable air.  Nurturing, sincere, older-than-her-age, talented, responsible, calm.  You miss her when she leaves.  And learn from her when she's near.

K H L O E   W I L L I A M S // khloe paige blog

After she left, I kept calling her "the firefly."  Khloe is a bright young spark, on the cusp of major life decisions right and left.   She was the quickest to laugh, to tell a story, to open up, to talk.  Her heart strings are tied in many places, and she is a family-girl to.the.bone.  She has whimsy in her eyes, and Elizabeth Bennett in her heart beats.  She could weave in and out of nonsense chatter, plunging questions and ideas, and practical steps seamlessly.  She's not afraid - at all.   Timidity is not in her deck of cards.  I sometimes wished I could scoop up a handful of that trait, and eat it like (clean) snow.  I lost that ability somewhere of the years, and she's a dazzling reminder of the beauty there is in fearlessness.





Ladies and friends, thank you for making my month.  For effecting my life.  Deaths, break-ups, moves, self-realizations, "God moments," childhoods, concerns, wishes - the deepest, realest, honestest ones -, photographs, and stories.  You came open and eager, and I hope you left refreshed and with visions dancing in your head, like sugar plum fairies.  I wish you could come back, now, so I could enjoy in person some more.  But I also love waiting and watching... seeing stories start to pop up on your blogs. I love looking forward to learning more, as you tell it yourself.  You are all dear to my heart <3 p="">

Red Dirt Roof | Our House

free, nothing feels like free
though it sometimes means we don’t get along
cause same, no, we’re not the same
but that’s what makes us strong
home - dierks bentley 

I tell people that he's a country boy, not a farm boy.  He's a small town boy, not a ranch boy.  He doesn't hunt in his spare time.  He'll go with the boys and have fun.  But he'd probably have just as much fun shooting a Justin Beiber poster hanging on a tree.  He doesn't like to deal with, let alone breed or feed or clean or skin, animals.  He loves nature - the trees animate him, the dogs annoy him.  Sunsets bring him to tears, goats and chickens and cows are... tasty.  He can't sleep in, unless it's Saturday and there is nothing planned for the day.  He is very confused by computers and all their tomfoolery.  Especially when it comes to formatting.  Talk about stress ;)  He's actually far less self-concious in groups of people than I am, and he rarely feels awkward.  He's happy and people are his favorite.  He is entertained by watching people - he takes it in and processes.  We joke that he's the quiet social butterfly and I'm the loud homebody.  He loves to "go out and do!" He loves to get things done.  He loves to come up with things to get done.  But he just learned how to use Excel when we got engaged, and still doesn't "schedule."  He just lives hard and thoroughly without being frustrated by daily timelines of ALL HE MUST GET DO.  It's a country quality.  There is peace in these plains.

I've wrongly acquired the title "city girl" in our story.  I've never lived in "the city" and I can easily go months without visiting "the city."  I'm a suburban girl.  Who has the option of going into the District of Columbia, the Nation's Capital, the city whenever I'd like.  I was born 8 miles away from the White House, where 42 presidents have lived with their families and pets.  Mr. Obama still lives only 20 miles away.  But I don't live in the city, I live just outside it.  With access to bay-towns, like Annapolis and Alexandria, where boats are docked and water is blue, and historical towns, like Mount Vernon and Harper's Ferry, which sometimes seem untouched since their colonial and civil war days, to country-towns, big and small, like Frederick and Brunswick, and national skyline cities like Baltimore and Philadelphia... and even Times Square in New York City, New York is only four hours away.

I personally grew up Home Owner's Association neighborhoods - with community swimming pools, the best part of summer, especially when we had change for the ice cream truck, and spontaneous all-street Man Hunt and Capture the Flag games, comprised of children from about ten different families.  Sure, there wasn't much yard space, but there was plenty of room for creative rascals to make memories and get an adrenaline rush.  The beach is three hours away, but I've also been a suburban girl outside of San Diego City.  And the beach, then, was only twenty minutes away.  Glorious.  Both in California and Maryland mountains were severely close by, and so were plains and fields, and traffic jams.  We have every kind of restaurant nearby - chains and mom-and-pops and breakfast and lunch and dinner and every country imaginable is represented.  There is no such thing as "we don't have that."  We do.  Somewhere in the near vicinity, we do.  There is a buzz in these suburbs.

"Cause same, no, we’re not the same
But that’s what makes us strong."

Early in March we drove two full days in my determined white Corolla, filled with tools and coconut-oil popcorn and four grown people and one growing person.  Oklahoma was our stop.  And to build the roof was our goal.  Caleb shouldered the largest responsibility, obviously, but we were dependent on our brothers and a few good friends.  One month.  We had one month to get it done.  

This dream-house has been a part of a number of mind-makeovers the last few years.  As a single boy, Caleb envisioned a dark, cozy, log lodge.  As I've said before, Hollywood High Heels Sparkles Leigh over here, ah-ha, well, didn't.  So we've imagined together what this house could be.  Decorations aside, what's the point of it?  We both want it to function like a suburban home - with cars and friends and people over constantly.  We want it to be warm and welcoming.  We want space for people to come and stay the night or stay the week or stay the month.  As long as they don't fuss when it's time to watch the Thunder games.  We want this house to buzz with life and bodies in the peace of it's Solitude Forest.  What once was a home with two or three bedrooms has turned into a home with five or six, and plans for another two-four to be added on someday.  One bathroom became four bathrooms.  The kitchen moved from being tucked away under the stairs into the great room, siamese twins with the family room where couches, eating, TV, the fireplace and food all happily spill together into the same space.  But first.  We needed a roof.

Day One on the site was crucial.  We needed to hunt down two oak trees to hold the roof up.  We called them our Giving Trees, chopped down to keep us safe and dry.  I was surprised at how emotional I was when we decided on them.  They were - are - so beautiful.  And we have twenty acres full of them.  And I'm no "tree-hugger" but I found myself wishing I could say "Thank you, pretty tree."  Maybe what I was feeling was gratitude to God - He made these trees so lovely, and it really is an honor to use them in our home.















After chopping the trees down, they had to be hauled from their location on our property over to the house.  The next step was bracing them upright so the roof construction could begin on them.  They look so little "inside"!




Once the trees were quite secure, it was time for the gables to go up and the framing to begin.







The framing took a long, long time.  This house is not simple and the angles are sharp, steep and frequent.  It took tough patience and OCD-awareness to cut and arrange every single board in the perfect place.

Midway through the framing process, Caleb had the topped of his finger smashed off.  See the long boards on the right of the house? ^ He was straddling the middle board that those are leaning on, with a nail gun, while the guys pushed boards up to him.  He'd "catch" the board, place it on the beam, and nail it down.  One time his hand was to close to the beam and the guys pushed the board up harder than they had in the past.  His finger jammed between the beam and board and the top popped off, yet was held on by his finger nail.  We rushed to the Guthrie hospital for Lidocaine, stitches and hopefully positive news.  It was not this woman's favorite part of the trip :-/  But thankfully, six weeks later, it's healed up very nicely.  A little weird shaped and the nerves are shot, but his finger is all there!  After the finger incident, he developed a corneal ulcer.  So he went to work everyday with a giant bandage/wrap/cast on his hand and a pirate-patch on his eye.  So pitiful and cute ;)

Day after day, early morning into late dark night, over and over, he and the boys, and I would drive up and down this road.  From town to his parent's house to our house.  Bit by bit, again and again.  Until we were finally ROOFED IN.  The day shingles went up was a day of celebration.  The site was like an anthill and the energy was colored.  Hot donuts from Missy's sat in a nearly untouched white box.  Everyone was too excited to eat.

While the "shingles crew" worked away outside, another set of guys started the interior framing.   This part of the project was up in the air.  Not necessary to get done this trip, but would certainly be nice to have completed!  They ended up having enough time and man-power to go for it.  In this next picture you can see the two trees holding up the roof.  A staircase will eventually lead up inbetween these trees to the second floor loft.  The top floor has a number of bedrooms and bathrooms, as well as a staircase leading to the massively-cool third story tower bedroom.  Under the loft: aka the first floor, is the master bedroom and bathroom, powder room and laundry room... then in the "open" area under the trusses are the kitchen, dining room and living room.



I drew chalk on the concrete where I wanted all the walls to go... My lines are wicked straight ;)

This is the view into the living room - the fire place is on the right, the kitchen is on the left.





Before long there was a second floor!  Incredible.


This is looking down into the master bedroom and walk-in closet:



Our good friend Wild Bill brought by some freshly milled cedar wood.  He makes all kinds of brilliant chairs and swings and beds and frames and hope chests and... well... anything, really! out of that gorgeous, fragrant, red wood. We hope to make some doors and window sills out of our own cedars :)


Dave and Kate (and Little Lillian and Keith) have popped up a few times in this post.  They are our next door neighbors, jolly good friends and the owners/runners of Merrick Valley Family Farm (certified organic, woot woot!).  They have a fascinating homestead.  I love to listen to them talk about their beliefs and ideas, and how they practically make them happen.  They are dreamers and do-ers and just so friendly and dear.  We love them.


A good summary of my life ;)

Dear Man,
I loved that you bought this land, and planned for this house, before I even loved you.  Now that we're in love and committed to love and I know you a whole lot better than I did when I first visited this land, I see how much of you is hidden in these twenty acres, like it was hidden in your heart.  Obvious things, like the design and architecture of this house.  While friends, and even your twin brother, built and recommended you build a more classic, traditional, straight-foward home.  Time and cost efficient, solid and relatively easy.  It made all the logical and practical sense in the world.  But you just couldn't do it.  A layered, dimensional, 45-degreed, intricate home was in your soul, and you just had to go for it.  A home where every single room is shaped differently, each with it's own set of personality and potential.  It's you.  And subtle things, like your visions for the rounded driveway, and the view that any guest would first see when arriving at the house.  Your vision for a green yard with lots of room for sports and play - in the middle of the woods.  Your plans for new additions, more houses on the property, and a bandstand at the top of the hill, where all the redbuds bloom, so we can have summer concerts with friends - it's all you.

When I first met you, I assumed you were a simple, straight-forward, traditional guy.  I had no idea how many corridors and ideas and mysteries and angles you had hidden away in you.  I had no idea you were so full of creativity and energy and imagination.  I had no idea you were so picky and thorough and flexible and spontaneous.  I assumed you were predictable and you've proven to be wonderfully surprising.   Consistent, yes.  Dependable, yes.  Predictable, no.

I love you, and all the parts of you know and I'll the parts of you yet to know.  Thank you for giving us this beautiful part of yourself.  I can't wait to tell our kids all these stories, and to show them all these pictures, and for them to get to know you, too.  You have worked far too hard to make this thing in your head a real place for us to enjoy.  And I adore it.  Even though I still sometimes get nervous about living in Oklahoma, those 20 acres - and that house in particular - is my favorite place in the entire world.

I love you. And I'm proud of you and just want to brag about you for pages.  "You have a beautiful mind." ;)

Love,
Me




Someday a spiral staircase will lead up to this small and magical third story tower room... but for now a hole in the floor board will do ;)





Check out the progress! I'm obsessed.


I can see it so clearly: windows in, deck built, grass grown, grill smoking, music playing, watermelon sliced.  I get carried away thinking about evenings here, ten years from now.




Good bye, house.  This was the last time we saw you... we're planning on being back in the fall, with a squishy ol' baby.  We have some windows to put in -- let's see if we can save the money in time ;)  We love you, Red Dirt House and can't wait for all the stories yet to come.  It was such a happy, sweet month of our lives putting this roof on.  The best is yet to come...

Remember when we said when we turned gray When the children grow up and move away We won't be sad, we'll be glad For all the life we've had And we'll remember when 

Tim + Ica | Jefferson Park Maryland Wedding

i've never been quite as happy as  i am. 
me & mr. cassidy - as happy as i am 

All seasons, not just the Christmas one, should have carols.   Those festive songs, made for jubilant connection and noisy celebration.  Her name was no mistake, she's a living carol - a human version of elated song.  Irene Carol has been dancing and prancing, laughing and quaking, feeling and giving since she was born.  Her twinkly almond eyes could inspire paintings, and her spontaneous, full-body, arched, boom laugh could be sold in bottles.  She'd make millions.   And when this songbird of a lady planned a wedding day, it could only have gone one way: marvelously.  Not just a nice spring day, but a perfect spring extravaganza.  Not just cute, but sensational.  Not just emotional, but unrestrained and ardent.  It was a day where all the birds were heard, all the smells were enjoyed, all the colors were vibrant and all the hearts swelled.

“...she had that something which fires the imagination, that could stop one's breath for a moment by a look or gesture that somehow revealed the meaning in common things. 

She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last. 

All the strong things of her heart came out in her body, that had been so tireless in serving generous emotions.   She was a rich mine of life, like the founders of early races.” (willa cather)

Ica, and her whimsical fashion-sense and chatty brain, met Tim on a blind date six years ago.  They were young munches.  And they played long and hard, and laughed even more than usual.  Tim goofed up on his great "pick-up line" and the chapter started, there was a beginning of "them."  The guitar-playing, energetic, prayer boy had to be with this girl, whose Facebook profile pictures were full of animal print, scrunched noses, confetti, sunsets, beach trips, so.many.friends and that iconic smile.








Their love is a tested one.  It nearly slipped between their fingers, and was gone forever.  But they fought.  And they waited.  And they chose respect and patience over every other strong emotion in their chests and heads and way into their toes and souls.  They could have said "Forget this!  We want to be together, and we WILL BE."  They could have pushed and forced.  But they trusted a Love bigger their own, and knew He was good - yes, very good.   Smiles had to be forced sometimes, and colors were muted, but there was joy.  And peace.  They prayed and wondered and hoped there would be a day - someday - in their future where they could marry.  Where they could be brought together, in one union, with one name.  Six years.  Six years. Happy singing!  It led them here:



The bay water wasn't thumping, and birds weren't chirping or rustling.  Blue skies - extra saturated - because, well, color is in their blood and souls.  A heated wind carefully puffed the hungry, crispy, long grass.  But it remained respectful and hushed.  It was as if nature understood the holiness of the moment, and tearily - with baited breath and grinning, smashed lips - was soaking in the moment itself. The distinct lack of white noise was perfect.  Just the clip-clop of Ica's t-straps, the deep, deep sighs coming from either end of the path and an occasional squeak and sniff from the bride.


And then...





... comedic timing took over ;)  The grass snarled with Ica's veil and she broke the eerie silence with roars and "Of COURSE"'s and gasps as she tried to catch her breath.  Tim was dying to turn his back and rush to her.  He swayed and joined in her laughter, even though he didn't know what was happening.  I paused taking pictures for a moment to enter into the scene and untangle the tulle.  She eventually continued on her way, laughing and shaking her head at herself.  It couldn't have been greater.










The jesting and frivolity that easily bonded them, and the strength and depth, that proved to keep them, was all wrapped into that those few minutes.  Like a trailer of their entire relationship.  They prayed and partied.  It was the single best first look I've ever witnessed.

I couldn't stand it if you kids were inconsiderate, or thought of her as if she were just somebody who looked after you.

You see I was very much in love with your mother, and I know there's nobody like her...”  (willa cather)

Before the wedding Becca predicted that there would be "lots of tears - in a good way."  After the wedding Lydia and I agreed that it was one of, if not THE most, teary ceremonies we'd ever been to.  During Tim's vows even the groomsmen were losing it.   They prayed together at their first look, prayed together during their ceremony, and ran down the aisle, with cheers and hoorays!, to a quiet moment behind the barn so they could pray.   But don't think so much spiritual discipline in action meant for blah or overly-somber.  Oh no.















This wedding was as vivacious and passionate as weddings get - and it don't hurt that they have spicy, bright, outspoken, sassy friends ;)






































Though I love to write, and am convinced that beautiful writing can enhance a visual story, I sometimes think my words will only hinder the intensity and happy the couple themselves declare.  Maybe that's my creative way of saying: I just don't have words to explain the hope and delight and celebration I saw in the eyes and faces of this new husband and wife.  You'll just have to go back and look at them again.  If you can't see it - if you don't see what I see - then I probably couldn't describe it any better.  But in a word, they were in bliss.



























































Mr. and Mrs. Remo, you're near to my heart and this wedding was the answer to truly thousands of prayers.  How sweet it is to experience these days of life?  The "yes's!" from God!  The feasting and the beautiful days!  The "heaven" days - the ones who anticipate and look forward to and await quite eagerly.  You're incredible and will not be leaving this earth unmarked or unloved.  It was a good thing that the Lord brought a Living Carol and a Excited Schoolteacher together... go enjoy singing your life song <3>

ps. I shot this wedding seven months pregnant - which I'm pretty proud about - but I'd be a jerk to not thank Ellie for second-shooting, Lydia for keeping me fed, and Caleb Husband Love Dude Man for doing just about everything else (driving, bag-carrying, battery hunting, and foot-and-ankle-rubbing for the next three days.)

Woods Family | Hoboken Coffee Roasters At Home | Family Portraits in Guthrie

i could be sweet
and i could be sweeter
i want to be where your heart is home
she & him - home

You met Trey and Mallory behind the bar at Hoboken Coffee Roasters.  You met their dream - their wooden, mechanical, brown, window-ed, handmade dream.   You met a part of them that isn't just their career or their work, but their hearts on display on Division Avenue.  Hoboken is more than a part, but it isn't the whole.

Today you'll at least get to meet more of the parts, that will help you know the whole far better.  The parts about an OSU cowgirl-student, paying the bills by working at a college town coffee house.  The parts about her meeting Gerald Woods, the Third (or "Trey," for three.  Get it?)  The parts about an engagement three months later.  And a wedding four months after the "Will you?" And the parts about their bike ride - on their bicycles, with pedals and wheels that runs on human muscle, determination and exhilaration - from Oklahoma to Oregon.  Yes.  The parts about their time in Eugene, working working working, playing playing playing, learning learning learning, dreaming dreaming dreaming.   They continued to pay the bills by being hired at, well, where else?  Coffee shops.  And they looked forward to big new parts.  Baby parts and a shop of their own parts and a house to make their home (at least for a good long while) parts.  

On a personal note, before I wow you with more heartwarming Woods tales, I have to recite, once again, why I love shooting people in their real life.  I'm not the biggest fan of styled shoots (I understand their fun and place), I'm never going to be a commercial "America's Next Top Model esque" photographer (but I sure am glad someone does it, because I adore the spreads in Vogue and Vanity Fair), I have no desire to learn camera and photoshop tricks and magicals to create Popular Page worthy Flickr creations (though I adore it when those are well done - they're dreamy.)  Honestly, I could take or leave photography.  And "art."  Not in the world, oh no.  But in my own life - I don't "need to take pictures!"  What I do "need," however, is to create (bedrooms or meals or outfits or blog posts) and to know people.  I'm far less bubbly and outgoing than I was a few years ago.  I may be less social and, heck, even less friendly!  But my heart is "on" and I'm addicted to knowing and discovering the stories of people.  I love shooting a birth story or a wedding or a friend of mine at the pool.  I just, oh, feel alive!  Like life is tasty and happening and dazzling!

And here, in a living room on Oak Street, in a town set aglow by the promise of "Munson and Sons" (or "Mummy Fords," depending on which old lady in town you speak with), is a wife and mamma and female who doesn't know how to pin something onto Pinterest.  And a husband and daddy and man who looks like American Storybook Jesus, according to my husband.  And a coffee-shop babe who takes her naps under a espresso machine, and who kind of looks like a munchable little coffee treat herself.  And this is where they wake up and come home and close their blinds and take their showers and park their jeep and rest.

And it makes me feel alive.

They moved into this home, less than two minutes from their store, last month.  They have hardy plans for it.  When we opened the blinds they fell off the window and Mallory tossed them into the kitchen.  Where the dish and clothes washer live.  And the plaster needs to be repaired in the walls, and the bathroom isn't "them" at all.  Just the night before this shoot Mallory went all "destroy the shower doors!" and hung up a curtain and rod in their place.  It's just on the cusp of all it will be, but it's undoubtably theirs and beautiful.

In my various conversations with the Woods family over the past eight months, I've watched a trusty thread stitch their thoughts together.  "It just wasn't us, ya know?"  "That was just SO 'me'!" "It was us!" "It really wasn't 'me.'" They have some of the most developed, unstuffy, natural, pleasant, makes-you-feel-comfortable-not-judged-happy-not-like-a-failure sense of personal taste and desire I've ever come across.  They aren't trendy or trying to be cool - they just dress and decorate and drink and do what they love!  It's so simple and good. 

Trey is the sort of person who you feel really proud-of-yourself when you've made him laugh.  He's easy to talk to, interesting and not-shy - but he also doesn't pity-laugh.  Mallory, on the other hand, is a feather of a speaker and, if she caught on that you were making a joke, would laugh no matter what - just to make sure you didn't feel bad.   But as a couple they make you feel like you're family.  It doesn't matter if you're at the shop or in their living room.   And their little offspring daughter is a holdable part of their love.  She is so easy to adore and want to be near.  She's (obviously) super used to being around people all day long.  She sucks her fists and is working on coordinating her back with her mind, and she looks at you like she's got you all figured out - and then usually smiles really big, which makes you confident that she assessed you well ;)

These three must be a little window light of heaven.  Everyone - from my own family to the church ladies to the Town Member of The Year to the instagram-and-tweeters to myself - have only experienced memorable, rich and addicting love from this crew.  It's honest and not something that can be faked or manufactured or posed.  

Trey, Mallory and young Autumn, er, Harmony (hahah just kidding. Harvest.) yes, you're beautiful.  "Inside and out," as they say.  Yes, you're inspiring.  But thank you, sincerely, for your hearts - especially towards people.  Thank you for not making people different than you (basically your whole town!) feel snubbed or looked down on.  Instead they feel a part of you.  Thank you for living out what you believe is best, but not talking about those things in a way that makes me-or-others feel like half-bakes.  You love differences and don't want everyone to be like you - you want them to be like them.  And you bring that out in people.  Thank you for talking about God like He's really your friend, and not like you're "good Christian folk who have to bring up prayer now."  It's obvious that your life in Him is so interweaved with your everyday life that they just simply can't be separated.  It doesn't feel hokey, ultra-spiritual or pushy.  It just feels right and helpful and delightful.  

Thank you for the start of a friendship - I hope our babies will be buds for a long long time, and I hope you'll get to eat at our bagel shop someday, and I hope for many nights and meals and BBQ's and holiday parties and coffee-breaks and conversations and knowings with our families.

It's been so nice to meet you.

Gatsby Spring | Monday Inspiration

“and so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees,
 just as things grow in fast movies,
i had that familiar conviction that life 
was beginning over again with the spring.” 
f. scott fitzgerald

American Literature, in 11th grade, was my favorite.   My Antonia took me off-guard - I didn't expect to love it so much.  To Kill A Mockingbird was a heart-warming and real as ever.  Cheaper By The Dozen is probably the first chapter book I want to read aloud to my son.  I laugh at the same jokes - out loud - every time.  Our Town was eerie and kind of weird - the perfect way to playwright "normal" American life.  But The Great Gatsby.  My favorite book of the year. 

“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths  among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.”

“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.”
"Then she laughed, an absurd, charming, little laugh.  'I'm p-paralyzed with happiness.'  She laughed again, as if she had said something very witty.
She held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face,  promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. 
That was a way she had."

"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—
they smashed up things and creatures
and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness,
or whatever it was that kept them together,
and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”


“Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry,
I turned away.”

"Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty,
told only of her unexpected joy."

“Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”

“It makes me sad because I've never seen such--such beautiful shirts before.”

Gatsby, the story of hideous, beautiful, miserable, rich, real people.  The sparkles, the pool parties, the vacation homes, the expensive clothes, the Eggs, the accomplishment and legacy, the art deco, the romance.  The part of me that loves old glamour, high heels, white spaces, anything regarding summer in The Hamptons, the hotel in Somewhere In Time, earrings, and all parts of pre-and-post World War I history felt quite understood and known and maybe a little jealous when reading.  To this day I dream about a tall room with ocean-like white curtains, "like pale flags," blowing in and out of the windows in summer breeze, twisting up to a "frosted wedding-cake of a ceiling."  I'd obviously be wearing white, too, perched on my anchor of an "enormous couch."
The time in the century, the lifestyle they led, the names they were known by:  all of it seems perfect, and dreamy.  Far more "me" than a Depression-town or the wild wild west or a nothing-to-do-po-dunk-village.  No, this THIS part of America was what thrilled me!

And part of why I love Gatsby is because the characters have terrible lives.
Twisted, selfish, shallow, high-class lives.  The juxtaposition makes me warm and type-y.  "They weren't happy... but they weren't unhappy, either."  Dill and Mr. Gilbreth and Miss Shimerda were happy - in their hard-knock sort of ways.  But not the Buchanans.  Or Jay.  Or Myrtle. 

Maybe I just love that you really can't judge a book by it's cover, and that, to quote a dying king in The Swan Princess "It's not what it seems! It's NOT WHAT IT SEEMS!"  There's more to the story, and like a spelunker in the caves, I love to chip away and find out who someone really is, not who they seem to be.

Needless to say, I am greatly looking forward to the May 10, 2013 Warner Brothers theater release of this story.   Leonardo, Tobey, Carey? Don't let me down.

In the meantime, can someone let me know if they find this version of the book, well, anywhere?  It's divine.  Yellow - the perfect color theme for the story.  Daisy, summer, gold, sunshine or... sickly, vile, puke.  It's one of those colors that can be so perfect and happy when it's right, and staunchly ugly when it's a few shades off.

I think these $12 art deco (yellow) earrings are the grandest little pop of "East Egg" to an outfit.

modcloth

Maybe with this ponte knit, rich raspberry, 20's inspired day dress?  Not to mention it's on sale for $19.99...

gap maternity

If money were no bother, I'd easily grab up two or three of Behida Dolic handmade creations.  Look through her whole etsy.  EVERY single one is chilling and sensational.

behida dolic

behida dolic

For a more casual, budget-friendly me, I think adding brooches to a top knot is ultra classy.   I'm over "brooches" in general, but I do think this is a clever and spiffy way to use them... subtle and sassy!

the glitter guide

This lot of seven pins is only $28, too!  Not bad!

etsy

I need a friend to need a birthday/shower/spring party to be thrown.  Maybe I'll just throw one myself (yeah right.)  But this $22 (on sale!) Global Amici cake stand is harassing me.  It won't leave me alone. It keeps telling me I need it. "Especially because my stem is exaggerated - how fetching would I be on a food table?" he says.  I have no come-backs.  Yet.

fab.com

The party will also need these paper placemats.  The good news is that I currently own them.  Happy joy bubbles finger dance!  You can buy them, too, at Layla Grace (trick: they are $25, but if you sign up for their e-mail subscription, you get a $25 off a purchase coupon! Woop!) I was stopped dead in my... blankets... when I came upon this Gatsby-Inspired-Garden Wedding on The Lane (photography by Lara Hotz).  THIS is how it's done, ladies and gentleman.  Yellow bow-tie and all.  This is now the inspiration for my someday-giant-cake-stand-confetti-place-mat party.




My favorite pin of the week happens to be these imagined "business cards" of the guests at Gatsby's party.  The bunch at The Heads of State created them.  And I'll never be the same.
Happy Monday, everyone.  And if you're surrounded by snow - go read these two pages.   And pretend you're drinking cucumber-lime water.

Jessica Shae | Maternity Portraits

the next time we meet,
a new kind of "hello!"
both our hearts have a secret,
only both of us know.
josh ritter - kathleen

She was born in 1989.  So was I.  She was the firstborn daughter.  So was I.  She became the oldest of seven children.  So did I.  She was homeschooled.  So was I.  After graduating highschool, she went to Chicago for an internship.  So did I.  She was interested in starting a photography business.  So was I.  She liked to travel.  So did I.  She likes Chipotle, tanning in sunshine, getting nails done, wearing maxi dresses (or dresses, period) and the colors coral and Tiffany Blue.  So do I.  I started dating a guy, and three months later she started dating a guy.  I got engaged to a guy, and three months later she got engaged to a guy.  I married my guy, and three months later, she married her guy.  My guy and I became a family of three, and a few months after her guy and she, also, became a family of three.

For better or for worse, Jessica and I have managed to connect over, well, pretty much everything.  She's far neater, and I'm a bit messier and wilder.   She is a bit more thought-through and I'm a bit more impulsive.  She rarely (until) finishes her Chipotle, and I always do.

And she's a friend who understands, feels and knows things about me that very, very few do.  Some things you can never explain or describe.  You just know.  Our life pace-car has been step-by-step for nearly our entire lives.  When we met, we were little blonde whirlwinds, just dreaming about eerily similar things. And four years and a whole lot of story later, we are a little and bigger blonde, living out those eerily similar things.  We had no idea how sweet they'd be.  Or how much fun they would be to enjoy together.



Little Ras has an extraordinary mommy.  Full of insight, thoughtful consideration, life lessons, fight, quirky charm, happy grace, and love.  She loves your daddy, Ras.  And they have quite a story.  She loves you, Ras.  And has for a very, very long time.  In so many ways (which sounds so vague.  Sorry. It's going to have to), Tiny Jessica Shae is a very different person than I met years ago.  But, truly more than that, she is one of the most consistent, sure and stable people I've ever known.  Her course has been tried and proven true, so she's stayed the way.  Her heart has wanted and hunted down good, real desires.  She's been like that for as long as I've been her friend.  You're going to have a life-of-lives being raised by this woman.


Thank you for, well, you know.  Thank you :)  Yesterday was wonderful, and your burrito bump is even better and I can't wait to see you again - hopefully with a little munch in your arms.

Carlotta | Pastor's Girl Ponderings Portraits

and the world's like a science
and i'm like a secret
lingering still - she&him

I'm calling her bluff in the poker game of personal online portrayal.  If you've had the breath-easy bliss of reading the blog of Carlotta, you'd know a number of facts, and you may even come to quite a few educated guesses, about her.
Thoughtful, deep, intoverted, esoteric, wide-eyed and poetic.  We come to her blog and find calm, everyday beauty.  Well-constructed sentences without many exclamation points or smiley faces.  The colors are neutral, the patterns are non-existent and the fonts are classic.  No hot pink and polka-dotted for this girl.  People ask if she ever has a bad day?! Because life appears so perfect!  Her mind seems as interesting and full of treats as her attic-like bedroom we love to see pictures of.  We probably imagine her waking up, with lips that smell like hyacinths and armpits that smell like bookstores, and starting the day by just staring out the window for a few minutes, blinking slowly and breathing silently.  With a handmade knit throw dripping off her bed, she probably lifts an original German leather notebook off her thrifted nightstand, flows down the stairs with perfect posture and creates prayers of sweet happiness in calligraphy, while eating curds and whey.


Everyone.

She has us fooled.

Bravo, Carlotta, bravo!

When I drove up to the Tiev's household, the first thing I saw was the neighbors house.  Four little mangy-headed, bare-footed, beautiful small women, fumbling with a sign and screeching "GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! GIRL SCOUT COOKIES FOR SALE!"  I recognized a couple of their faces.  They waved and watched me park. "Is she buying some? I think she is.  Maybe." was written all over their smooth faces.  (I did buy some, by the way.)  Carlotta was standing across the street and ran to meet me.  She kind of tripped and we oddly hugged.  Her voice was much kid-d-ier than I thought it would be.


Yes, she is just as stunning in person as she is online.  So.  Don't make yourself feel better about that.  She is just extraordinary.  Our day together began with a tour of the house, meeting her family, and seeing the new chickens.  Then she showed me all over Tulsa.  Her church.  Her favorite cafe.  A hotel Britney Spears and Lady GaGa stayed at.  Underground tunnels.  Gelatto.  The "hipster" area.

She got lost (nearly) constantly.  She left me in an elevator.  She took me through some parking garages (by mistake).  She dripped gelatto in her hair and washed her hands with my ice (I offered, for the record.)   She talked on and on about different projects she started on and never finished.  She got her skirt stuck in her barstool at lunch and chided herself playfully "WHY am I so awkward?!"  She talked and chatted and joked and zoned-out and goofed and skipped and slouched.  And I finally said "You are SO different than you seem online!"  She laughed, that beautiful, real, knowing laugh of hers.  She looked just like MiMi on the side of the road behind a picnic table full of primary colored cookie boxes.

"Yeah, I know.  I really do have deep thoughts!  And I'm very careful about what I put online.  I don't know... I don't want to look back someday and be like 'Ew, gross!' or, like, have a potential boss find some crazy things about me on the internet.  Yeah.  I don't know.  My blog is me.  Like, a part of me.  I just have to sit down and write and think about it - I'm not like that all the time."

Hear me out: she is educated, sickeningly discerning, very lovely - in word, action and thought, gentle, mysterious and quite well-rounded.

However.  She is a ITSSOFLUFFYIAMGONNADIE goofball.  She has colorful stories to tell, and a cheesy sense of humor, and is sometimes "slow" to get sarcasm, and does a great money-walk... and tries to steal money (um. yeah.  Ask her about it ;).  She seems far older than her age.  In fact, all day I felt like she was older than me.  But she somehow pulls off "seeming older" with this weird little girl crazy.  Like, I would say "She seems like a 24 year old with a 10 year old's personality."  As opposed to "She is a very mature 17 year old, who seems more like she's going on 30."

She carries herself with grace and gladness and giddy.  She isn't misrepresenting herself on her blog - that girl and that mind is very much a part of her.  The whole Anthro-come-to-life thing is there.  It's just not all.  And I for one found myself more amused than "philosophically inspired."  She is so much fun.  She's hilarious!  She's a ham!  She's truly great.  




So, please, by all means.  Keep reading and loving her blog.  Keep being amazed at her ideas, taste, language and online journal.  And know that behind those posts, sitting behind a screen, somewhere in Tulsa, is a kooky, bilingual, chaos-and-calm, whippersnapper, doll of a girl, who is more herself than most adults you'd ever meet.


You're a keeper, Carlotta.  Don't get used to hearing it: you're rare.  And brilliantly memorable.  Especially when it comes to driving directions ;)

Rachel Leigh + Allix B | Portraits

it seems like one of those nights,
we ditch the whole scene and end up dreaming
instead of sleeping.
22 - taylor swift

I connect with people by trying to figure them out.  In some ways this a neat and interesting quality, and in other ways it's problematic.  I can relatively quickly watch, process and conclude "what a person is like" but I can also turn people into a "project." Which is bad.   But.  I often have one specific moment where, in my mind, I finally "get" someone.

For Rachel Leigh, it happened while I was grilling hamburgers.  Rachel has been a longtime blog-friend.  I've always been fascinated with her crazy long hair (can your hair give my hair lessons?!), her simple and good reminders of happy and true things, and her celebratory happiness for her friends.  I guessed (deduced) that she was a fresh, kind, talented and smart girl.  Which, she is.

From what I could tell online, Rachel seemed demure and ballerina-like.  And almost as if she had been dropped into 2013 from a Green Gable somewhere a number of decades back.  Not because she looked old, but because she seemed charmed in a southern grace, bonnet and dress, walk in the fields and read sort of way.

Last week, Rachel and her best one, Allix (who you'll meet in just a second) came all the way up from Texas to be my guests and to "break the cyber barrier" and MEET. IN. PERSON.  Rachel instantly surprised me.  Though she was just as kind, graceful and intelligent as I imagined she would be, she was not nearly as quiet or reserved.  Rachel is full of conversation, question, thoughts, stories, facts and humor.  She is extremely well-spoken, quick on her feet and bright.  Her vocabulary is golden, her opinions are thoughtful and her confidence is strong.  I loved it.

And it all dawned on me while we were visiting Caleb and the boys at the house.  My tradition is to bring hamburger meat up to them for lunch.  Every day.  We charcoal grill.  Patty to grill, patty to bun, bun to mouth.  No utensils, plates, napkins, toppings.  They like it hot, well-done and fast.  They've cut the hamburger meet with their saws (which is gross) and use 2x4's as a serving platter.  But since I had some ladies with me, I tried to be a little more hospitable.  I brought some fruit, chips, paper plates and water bottles.  While our lady-lunch was grilling Rachel asked if I had plates.  "Yes!  They are in that bag on the ground." "Do you want me to get them for you?" "Eh, we have a little while before the burgers are done.  I'm good. Thanks though!"  A minute or two later I see her pawing through the bag. She stops.  Comes and stands by me.  I felt like she was on the verge of saying something, but she didn't.  I continue talking with Allix and her mother (who joined us for the day! So much fun.) and I catch Rachel eyeing the bags again.  She finally blurted out "Do you want me to get the plates out now so that when the burgers are ready, they'll be ready?"  And it clicked for me.

"Rachel!" I laughed "I figured it out!  You're a control freak!" Hahaha.  "Yes, go get the plates.  You're very concerned about them!"  She immediately started laughing too. "No, no! I just, well, I want to help and...!" I cut her off.  And I really was mostly teasing.  More than control-freak, this is what The Paper Plate Pleading showed me about her: she is an initiator.  I think I thought of her more as a sweet follower.  But no.  She is a bold, aware, gentle initiator.  Whether it's trips or stories or practical needs or match-making... she is taking action.  I think it's an incredibly beautiful and important quality, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that in her.  Though I teased her about the plates for the rest of the day, I was more impressed than anything.

Rachel, I loved meeting you and am justsoglad you made the trip up to visit with me.  See you again soon, yes? Oh.  And never forget that us "Leigh's" will always hold a special place in each other's hearts ;)

If you know who Rachel is, you definitely know who Allix B is.  And vice-versa.  They're often asked "Are you two sisters?!" And they seem to be with each other all day, every day.  Which, I know they aren't.  But it's rare to "find" one online without the other nearby.  They're the best kind of best friends. Different in nearly every way, yet too many similarities to count.  I would have been actually sad if I hadn't been able to meet them both together :)  Thanks for making me happy, guys.

Now, while I had "imagined" Rachel as more on the hushed side, I pictured Allix being a CRAZYGOOFBALLFIREWORKALLTHEDAYLONG.   I was certainly "closer" in my guess with her than I was with Rachel ;)

However!  For being only 17, I was, again, surprised and impressed with Allix's sense of calm and stability while maintaining giddy, dimple-y, instant happiness.  I decided that she writes much more exclaimated than she acts (at least during first impressions), but she is really as happy as she seems.  Her cute sense of style, her smart business sense, her love of words and writing well, and her obvious talent with a camera are just cherries on this sweet sundae.  

I'm sure she has her moments (who doesn't?) but Allix was much less "dumb blonde" and much more "Eva Gabor."  She isn't just funny quips, easy laughter and bright colors.  She has a processing, analyzing, deep brain - and it's not hidden.  It's obvious.  She knows what she likes and doesn't like, because she has thought about it.  She isn't "about the trends."  She is gracious and patient and really just so kind.

It was great getting to watch Allix enjoy, friend and even play with her mom all day long, too.  They have such a trusting, close relationship.  The kind where you finish each other's sentences and mutually care deeply about the other's opinions and preferences.  I'd be willing to bet that most of Allix's relationships are like that: she is all in, and she is all in because she cares.  It's impressive, and I hope never ever fades.  You must come visit again.  I won't stand for it otherwise :)



Girls!  You were such a lovely part of my week.  And I want the whole world to know: Rachel and Allix are so much wonderful.  Follow them and be their friend, and get ready for fun times. 

Shelby Leigh + Brian + The Three Girls | Newborn + Family Portraits

"is there any way that I can tell you how my life has changed?  any way at all to let you know what sweetness you have given me?" elise mckenna - somewhere in time Not many hours after Esme Rose snuggled into her first days of "outside" life, this beautiful family and I met up again for one more story time.   We started back in December, with simple portraits of a mama-and-dada-to-be.    Within weeks, we were huddled together in a bathroom, with a couple more daughters and supporters, watching Shelby and pleading to Esme with our hearts - "Come on, sweet girl.  Come out!  We're waiting for you!".   This brings us to early spring and a family of five.

Inside the white picket fence, and red front door, up the wooden stairs, past the dusty rose and khaki nursery, on a white bright bed was a crew full of sunshine.





The ladies of the house are, well, stunning.  Each and every one of them.

And papa is a brave soul ;)

The delight I had left behind that cold night was just as complete when I came back in the daylight.  The big sisters were still intrigued and comfortable.  The whole house attracts itself to mama and baby.  They all love to be near.

Esme had quite the stare-down!  It's breathtaking!









Soon the little cupcake won't be eating every hour or two.  Soon she will know her sister's names.  Soon she will jump on dad, and break mugs, and fill up a little purse with goodies, and count to eleventeen and beyond.  Soon she will clap for herself.  Soon she will ask for what she wants with words.  Soon she will ask dad about his tattoos and if she can play with mom's hair and "are we there yeeeet?"  Soon she won't be a baby.  But today she's quite baby.  And absolutely incredible.  She is loved, and has been for some time now.  She is here and she is there's.




It's been honor and fun to be a part of this story; to record and tell something that can never be told again.  Esme Rose will never go back into her mother's belly or be delivered or be a few hours old ever, ever again.  And it really resonates in my heart the sweetness I've been able to join in on by photographing this entire, lovely family.  

Shelby Leigh + Brian + Their Baby | Birth Story

in these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will diewhere you invest your love, you invest your life
MUMFORD & SONS - AWAKE MY SOUL

Caleb and I drove down their street.  House after house, virtually the same in story.  Porch lights on, maybe a window or two bright, the yard dark - most of the house dark - cars in park out front.  It was 8:30 pm and the end of a middling workday, in the middle of a fussy winter.   The outside of the Metzger home was forgettably normal in the lines of homes.  But inside.  Inside the walls, where only a select few could see, there was a nativity scene.










Brian greeted me at the door - he was on his way to heat up a slice.  "Everyone is upstairs! Go on ahead!"  Shelby's laughter made me a little bummed.  "Man, she must not be very far along if she's giggling like that."  She waved and rocked on her bouncy ball.  I "scolded" her ;) "You sound way too cheerful for a lady who is in labor!"  "Oohhh, it's just because I'm not having a contraction right now! Hahah! You'll see!" She barely finished her sentence before she silently buried her head.  Her two daughters eased from the floor onto the bed.  They watched her strength.  And gave pats of honor and love when Shelby's moans were heaviest.   Shelby's mom told her what a wonderful job she was doing.






Aside from the occasional grunts and "ooooooooOOOOOOOO's!" and the midwives in matching t-shirts, the evening felt weirdly like a typical evening.  There wasn't hub-bub or eerie silence or beeping.  The tub was filling with water, Mumford & Sons was playing, leftovers were on the counter.  Instead of feeling like normal life had been frozen in time with the labor progressing, it felt like normal life was indeed happening.  And it was.  Together.  Eating pizza, making mom laugh, and having a baby.  It was weirdly unweird.









By 9:00 Shelby was in her own bathtub, in her own clothes, with her own family tipping water onto her working body.  If I could dream up an analogy, it reminded me of highschool soccer games in September: when I'd come off the field at halftime and open my water bottle - not to drink - to pour on my head.  Spill it all over.  Mom and Brian spilled and spilled.  Her body was working harder than a soccer athlete.  And her baby was ready to meet her life on the outside.













Shelby's midwives were so calm.  They were very hands-off, yet gently "in charge." The first laugh I heard from Shelby when I walked up the stairs happened to also be the last laugh.  It was almost like the baby knew "Alright, everyone is here now."  The hour and a half in the bathtub proved to be terrible and yet efficient, and also genuinely beautiful.  Labor is like war, this battle a mother (and father and "support team") wage for the prize of delivery itself; to win skin-to-skin and eye contact; to obtain a person in your arms and announce "Welcome! You are so loved!"  I'm not sure who the enemy is, but the battle is real and vicious.

Shelby's "breaks" in-between contractions were short and honestly still exhausting.  She would close her eyes and take a few deep breaths and then, a new wave of movement and pain would surround her.  She fought hard.  They all did.

In the final few minutes of the labor, Shelby fumbled out a weary "I can't.  I can't do this. She's not coming and I can't do this."  Brian held her hand tighter.  "Yes you can.  You are.  This is incredible.  You're doing it.  She's coming, baby.  You can do it.  It's almost over."

With new resolve, Shelby decided she was done.  She had been in consistent labor for over 24 hours, active labor for the last four, and transition for over an hour now.  It was time.  Little Girl, Mama said "Come!"









In as much time as it would take for me to walk to their mailbox and back, the family changed.  Esme Rose was in their arms, with her pudgy, formed arms, dark soft hair, and immediately kissable cheeks.


Their joy was full.  In the calming quiet of night, they celebrated like a town greeting the victorious soldiers!  Tears, hugs, emotional feasting!










To quote the profound Ash Parsons:

"The moments of pain and the moments of joy are not as far apart as we may think."  

Honestly, pain and joy seem to be two hands that are best when held.  One just isn't quite the same without the other.  Pain and Joy tell a story, a story we all know chapters of.  Some understand the story, and others have only heard the story.  Pain is rescued by the promise of Joy, and Joy is sweetened by the demands of Pain.  Pain and Joy tell the story of Esme Rose.


Happy First Day of Life, young lady.  You'll always know it, but someday when you look at these images, try to let the love of your family hug you even closer.  Your mama is a determined, smart lover.  Your dad is kind and good.  Your sisters are doting, bright and quick.  Your grandmother is loyal and lovely.  And together they worked for you, together they cried and piled onto a bed to fight over who you looked at first.   They studied every little wrinkle and roll.  All eyes and hearts were on you, amazed to just be in your presence.  And I think you'll be pleased to realize this love and devotion isn't rare; it's weirdly typical of your entire life.

Natasha + David | 4 Year Anniversary Shoot

so kiss me and smile for me
tell me that you'll wait for me
john denver - i'm leaving on a jet plane

He was leaving.  When he returned he'd be leaving again.  Going and waiting and coming, for months and years of his life.   But his commitment to the United States Military, waged war with his commitment to his Natasha.  She knew he had to go, and loved to be his wherever he was.  Semper Fidelis! On a stony February day, they promised the grandest promise: to never leave you or forsake you, until God by death shall separate us.   Their simple ceremony in a local park, with their mothers as witnesses, was an act of longing, adoration, support and love.  Within hours, David was leaving.  But not forsaking, not "leaving."  His body would be away, but his heart was always with her.  She sent him off, with her love leading him home.


Over their four year marriage, they've care-packaged, surprise-visited, texted, messaged, wrote, missed, cried, become extra creative, dreamed, reenforced and remained.  In 2010 they were able to fit in a candy, colored, cheerful "wedding" ceremony and reception.  Their friends and family smiled, and the sun made the day oh-so bright.  Before long, he was gone again.  But they worked to keep their love and hearts young, smiling and, yes, bright!







And here there are, with resilient affection and grateful closeness.  David is officially a civilian.  They celebrated their anniversary together.  They painted ceramics, side by side.  (Hilarious ceramics at that: a garden gnome and Harry Potter coffee mug.  Cute nerd alert!)  You can see it in their eyes.




The last four years have been beautifully long, and worth the sacrifices.  They are still, and calm.  Resting and united.  Still full of candyland spunk, with a seal of faithfulness and maturity.

Happy Four Years.  I'm thrilled you are in person, under the same roof, celebrating together.  Well done, both of you.  Soak this up.

Red Dirt Home | Personal

Flashback: September 21, 2012

The Design of a House by Wendell Berry

"Love has conceived a house,
and out of its labor
brought forth its likeness
- the emblem of desire,
continuing though the flesh falls away.

Love foresees a jointure
composing a house, a marriage of contraries,
compendium of opposites in equilibrium.
Let severeness be as dividing
as budleaves around the flower!
- woman and child enfolded, chosen within.

This is a love poem for you -
among wars, among brutal forfeitures of time
in this house,
among latent fires and stillness,
among all that honesty must see,

I accept and love you.
And our Baby,
precious and periled in her happy mornings,
whose tears are mine.

Love has visualized a house,
and out of its expenditure
fleshed the design at this cross ways
of consciousness and time:

Its form is growth come to light in it;
croulants, gardens,
are of its architecture,
labor its realization,
cities we have gone to and come back
are the prospect of its doorways.
And there's a city it dreams of."

Giveaway Winner!

Phew!  You all sure know how to try for a prize!  What fun it was to read all the entries + count up all the votes :)  I really hate that part of giving something away... because I want to give the gift to everyooooone.  And it breaks my heart when "only" one can win.  Then I have to go into coach-Kristen-mode and not let the emotions get to me. 

SO.  After counting up ALL 638 votes.  We find ourselves using the handy-dandy True Random Number Generator Tool aaaaaand:

Lucky Number Eight!  I was expecting something crazy like 234 or 551 or 391.  But nope!  It was number 8 :)     
Congratulations Essie Jane - e-mail me your home address so I can get you your goods.  You're going to have FUN!