everything's [not so] gravy!

life is not neat. it isn't tidy. my personal relationships struggle sometimes, and i have to admit that i'm not on the same wavelength with my boyfriend as i'd always like to be. and for the longest time, i felt that i couldn't say that about my relationship with God because i was a Christian. a beacon of hope, love, purity, and faith to all non-believers and believers. i know some people that talk of God's love and hope and goodness all the time. its like their spiritual high never, ever fails them. and they are a great beacon of hope -- of what we can attain someday. but they are sometimes a great reminder of what we aren't. and we get frustrated. and feel like failures. because we aren't. we aren't always having the best day. and we aren't performing miracles at work or at school. and we aren't perfect.

and i always felt that if i ever blogged about Jesus, i had to be 100% peppy. and honest. at the same time. but i can't do that. because i'm not always 100% peppy about God. and sometimes, i don't feel Him. and sometimes, i know God is telling me not to do something, but i look the other way.

in church two sundays ago, we studied paul's letter to the church about timothy and epaphroditus in philippians 2:19-30. and paul says, "i hope in the Lord to send timothy to you soon. . .i hope, therefore, to send him as soon as. . .indeed he was ill, and almost died. but God had mercy on him, and not on him only but also on me, to spare me sorrow upon sorrow. . .and i may have less anxiety."

paul, PAUL, hoped. as in, he wasn't sure, but he hoped. in that set of verses, he does say he "is confident in the Lord." so why doesn't he say that in those beginning verses? because he means something different. he doubted. he wasn't sure what the Lord's will was. not only that, but he felt sorrow. and anxiety! how many people today feel anxiety? don't even answer that. a lot. a lot of people do. and paul admits it. he doesn't just say, "i'm not anxious! God is a healer!" yes, of course God is the healer, but you're human. you're going to feel these emotions. he just admits that he has anxiety and leaves it at that.

he was being honest. he was human. and to see paul (PAUL!) admit these things -- a man who was beaten, bruised, and imprisoned for speaking in the name of Christ -- he was admitting that it's okay to be honest. because the best way to reach people is by being honest. it isn't by saying that everything is perfect in your spiritual life (or just your life). people see through the bull-crap (can i say crap on here?). the people who need Jesus the most? they want your honesty. they want to know that you struggle too. and that you are human. that will give them something to relate to. people don't want to be preached at. they want to be understood. they want to feel loved. and wasn't that Christ's mission all along? to love?

city life

my blog claims that i'm a small-town girl.

but OH, how this small-town girl is begging for some city life...in manhattan. beautiful, busy, bustling manhattan.

manolo blahniks.

everything within walking distance.

style.

did i mention manolo blahniks?

tonight's a night for dreams.

thunder.

an hour ago, i was declaring that i do my best work when its thunderstorming out. now, i just want to cuddle under my blankets & take a nap. such short-lived motivation always kicks me in the butt.

so, here i am blogging. i actually typed bloggin' first, but then i thought that might make my IQ look 10 points lower. but who's into appearances anyways? i'm bloggin'.

this past weekend was a classic. nights spent at grandma's with a hint of magic as we sip our tea while cuddling kitties and reading our daily stars.

and a birthday party for my nephew celebrated with family...intertwined with the perfect dose of imagination as we created haunted houses and dined at noey's pretend kitchen. and had some ultimate belly laughs.

but then, THEN came the best make-shift weekend day of all. adam & i are always on the go on weekends. usually he's working, but now i'm doing shoots on the weekend. and with church band practice and get-togethers, our weekends haven't been our own. so, yesterday, adam came over and we enjoyed our "weekend." we went to the library and sorted through lots of different subjects until we finally decided on checking out finance & small business books.

after a quick-trip at the car-wash where i learned how to handle the power-sprayer, we came back to my apartment and made tacos and lounged about watching movies and reading our books and being silly together.

it was just what we needed after such a crazy weekend. some time just to be in our routine. in our place where we were free to snuggle and giggle and just be.

and now, its back to the grind. with two shoots lined up for this week and a mental pile of expense reports and insurance plans to sort through, i'm ready.

because i can rally.

garage sales.

i love garage sales. i think i like them so much because we've always had them. it's a tradition. we usually had them in the summer. and i'd wake up (finally) and crawl from my bed + take my sleepy head to poke out the garage door window. if there were customers, i'd bolt back to bed. no one had to know i was awake yet...or that i looked like that. but if there weren't customers, i could drag my slippered feet outside to the desk where my grandma would sit putting stickers on our name sheets and counting up our money.

two things have always been steady about our garage sales. one: grandma was always there. i don't think i remember a garage sale without her. two: we make a lot of money. i'm not bragging here, but for garage sale items (i mean, let's be honest, you're always kind of iffy), we put out good stock. it helps that we usually do a three-family one with clothes (from the 80s, no doubt) and knick-knacks (dad loves those) and toys.

now, the toy stock has dwindled a bit, but MAN! our clothes section exploded this year. and grandma and i worked two days together, and mom and grandma worked the other two days and we.brought.BANK.

and, we're always happy at the end of the day when we bring in a profit. who doesn't like having some extra cash. but what i like the best about garage sales can be summed up into a 5 bullet-point list:

1) us all complaining about how much still has to be marked and the laughs we have trying to get everything ready.

2) dad complaining every year that he's not taking it back downstairs, but he does anyways because he loves us so much.

3) grandma with those darn name boards + how her face lights up when we're having a "good morning."

4) having people admire my collie as they come in to shop; he's so good lying there by my side!

5) grandma some of her christmas shopping at our garage sale. and tricking us into telling her the price for it so she can pay us. i mean, c'mon grandma, without you, none of us would be here anyways!

and some boxes were donated to the church. and others goodwill. and some even to the trash. and despite his constant reminder that he's "not taking it back downstairs," some boxes went back into the basement. :)

p.s. someone commented on how odd our garage door was because it was so open. is it really unique? or am i just used to my house?

breathe.

it's one of those things i don't want to blog about, but i have to so i don't forget that i.almost.died. to begin, i'd have to tell you that i rolled in a truck on the icy highway three years ago this coming january. flipped three times. screamed, but never heard myself because i was too busy being thrown upside down three times. i don't remember breathing or screaming or even grabbing something to hold on to. i almost died. and i knew it. all i could remember thinking was "i don't want to die yet. i don't want to die yet." that's the only thought i remember. God's protective hands held us tight enough where my friend & i walked away with nothing but scrapes and bruises.

on my way home this past thursday night, i just wanted to be home. 4 days before i had been in the car for 5 hours, so i wasn't thrilled about being in the car for another 1 hour trip. i just wanted to be home. about 15 miles from home, i felt it. that same gut-wrenching, sudden, "i don't want to die yet. i don't want to die yet." i felt it as the deer ran in front of my car. my car moving at 80 mph. i reached for my heart with one hand, and gripped the steering wheel with the other. i screamed, audibly this time, "oh my gosh!" as my foot slammed the brake. and he kept running. he came from the median, so i assume, he just ran across all four lanes. i'm so thankful that he-kept-running. i kept driving obviously, but did i adjust my speed? did i take my hand off of my heart? my fingers were numb. my leg felt like i had been hit with a brick. and my eyes. my eyes stung with fresh tears that reflected the fear i had known three years ago. the terror. the "i don't wanna die."

i came home dry-eyed, but my dad knew something was wrong. i came home to a father who wrapped me in his arms & told me i did the right thing. the right thing? i had no time to decide what "the right thing" was. in those split-second decisions, what makes us make the right ones?

so, that's my story. the story i didn't want to tell because maybe to some, it didn't seem like a big deal. but, i remember sensing death when i crashed 3 years ago, and i wasn't ready to sense that again. instead, i sat down on my couch in the home that has been mine for 21 years, and i breathed. i breathed in life.

home.

this is what i come home to from a week long vacation.

i have to tell you. i am not a hit-the-ground-running type of gal. in fact, i think i slept 15 hours total the day i returned from camping. i'm sure my dad is currently shaking his head at the computer, as well.

i love camping. my whole blog post on my photography site testifies to that. but i have to tell you. there's something magnificent about walking back into your home. the plush carpet. the way the sun sets over the lake. filling my fridge with fresh groceries. even my fish: heck, i'm even happy to see them.

but i'm happy to be home. to be right here.

i've refueled.

now, i've got to rally.

photographer.

i need to blog. i've been meaning to blog for quite some time about the magic of grandma's house & my family's adventure to jollay orchards. and then i've been meaning to blog about my photography business. and i'm going camping in two days to my favorite place on earth. so what do you think i'll want to blog about in a week? not photography. not grandma's magic house. and not jollay orchards. it's gonna be aaaaall about covered bridge. so, here. let's get out some photography ideas+thoughts while i got them in the forefront of my mind.

i love what i do. like, LOVE what i do. i'm slowly limiting myself to a genre of photography that will allow me to grow, expand, and learn without being too overwhelmed at all the facets of this business.

a photographer is no different than a musician. or an artist. or even a college graduate.

you don't hand a bass to a drummer and tell him to play. you can't tell a sculptor to pick up a paint-brush and copy the mona lisa. and you can't tell an english graduate to start a job in an accounting firm.

in the same way, you can't give a photographer a camera and tell her to take pictures of bands or scenery. photographers too have a specialty. it's not all about picking up a camera + learning to shoot.

when people first heard i was a photographer, they wanted me to take pictures of praise bands and people worshiping. thankful for a chance to work, i accepted it. but i didn't enjoy it. i didn't look forward to it. ever. i kind of dreaded it. and i wondered if this photography thing was even for me. i mean, i loved taking portraits the summer before; why couldn't i do this?

and then i realized, i don't have the passion for that.

i have a strong passion for portraits, engagements, and weddings. in other words, these monumental stages of life -- these get me pumped up + excited.

ever since i was younger, i loved to look at my grandma's photo albums. anything that allowed me to glimpse the woman she used the be. the life she lived. and then, this weekend, i got to sort through black & white pictures of my mama. and i saw her as a baby (with hair sticking straight up), as a teenager, as a beautiful, beautiful woman. all of these stages that i couldn't experience because she was my mama (and i wasn't here yet...obviously :P).

but someone took those pictures. they froze time for a just.a.second so in the years to come, she can look through those pictures and remember just how it felt at-that-very-moment.

life is beautiful, usually in the in-between, but a special kind of magic seems hovering in the air when you're graduating from high-school or getting married to the love of your life. this magic is too precious to let slip away. photographs may be worth a thousand words, but they're always worth a million emotions as well. they tell a story.

i want to paint that story, your story, through my lens. remembering is what is most important to me. i've witnessed people forget. forget special smiles or little hiccups in your day that sparked special new or challenging. every moment here is important and just brimming with potential to be spectacular.

and i don't want you to forget.

that's why i'm here.

i couldn't be here + do what i do without my passion to do it.

i've got it.

i finally understand.