they repaved since i was last there. the gym had newer bigger lettering on it’s exterior and the baseball and soccer fields now have a decent fence now. i dont know what possessed me to visit there. after all, it wasnt exactly a happy point in my history…well, that’s not entirely fair, some of it was actually happy. but for the most part, it was…well, let’s just say unpleasant.

i cried in the parking lot. it caught me by surprise at first. there i was, sitting in my car in the parking lot of the school i attended for most of my middle school years, and without warning, i was crying.

at the end of eight grade, i left that school as quickly as my mother would allow. i spent about four years there, maybe five, i cant remember exactly. there was so much pain from that school…the few people i went to school with that i called friends werent there long and saying i didnt really fit in would be putting it mildy. i was weird and nearly every situation where my life could be made uncomfortable, was made uncomfortable. i wasnt exactly bullied in the sense that kids in school now days have to deal with, but mentally, it was torture. the last year i attended there, i cried nearly every day. but there i was years later, sitting in the parking lot with tears in my eyes wanting to go inside. i wanted to walk the halls as an adult. from my car, i could see into the hallways that were the bane of my existence for so many years and i cried a little more. for a moment, i felt myself shrink the way everything would wrench up inside me as my mom pulled into the drop off point every morning and i would want to just go home sick or crawl under a rock for the next seven hours…and then i remembered something.

i’m not that girl anymore. i’m not the same girl that dreaded every moment of school, that hated when the bell rang cause it meant walking the hallways alone, trying to look small and not be noticed. that girl that had to block out everyone around me to get by, to hide the things that i liked because they were weird or childish. that girl that sobbed to my mother nearly every afternoon she picked me up and begged that i didnt have to come back. that girl. i was her. but i’m not anymore.

as i sat there, taking in that place nearly twelve years later, i wished i could go back and tell that girl that everything would turn out okay. that all her fear, her tears meant something. that her misery turned into something incredible. that she would be loved, accepted…that she would have a joy filled life with people who genuinely wanted her. i just wanted to tell her that it would all turn out okay.

there are days when that girl from my past comes into my present. there are days when hiding and fear and tears seem to undermine my confidence, my drive and my passion. its those days when i remember that it’s not who i am. it might be where i came from, it might be familiar, but it’s not who i am. and everything will turn out okay.

dwell in possibility…

it all began with a house party. spying that perfect boy across the room- isnt that how all good house parties begin? somewhere between picking out an outfit, finding a comfortable room to stand in, getting drink to occupy yourself with and playing coy with the flirtations around you, it happens. a smile, a whisper, a giggle, a dance… that night, a boy fell in love with a girl. that night, a girl fell in love with a boy. and it all began with a house party.

jennifer and tyler…they began at a party. and now, now they wait in the hope of their wedding day when what began with a smile, a whisper, a giggle, and a dance, blooms into something incredible.

dwell in possibility…

the good: valentines. i know this next statement is going to sound pretty anti girl…anti wedding photographer…anti human in love, but i dont really like valentines. yes, yes, i know, that collective gasp i just heard, i’m aware – valentines lovers everywhere just wrote me off as crazy. but it’s never been a time i enjoyed. growing up, i didnt have a boyfriend. other than middle school cards, the boxes of candy hearts and one instance where an acquaintance from my youth group gave every girl he knew from church a “anonymous” carnation for valentines, i never had someone to “be mine”. valentines day just seemed like a day when people without someone to love felt lonely or like they werent good enough. valentines day felt like a requirement…a mandate to show the person you love just how much you love them. i just never enjoyed valentines day. my dad was and is an incredible father. every year, he would include me in whatever he did for my mother. the morning of valentines, i’d had confetti leading from my room to my bathroom where there would be flowers or blueberry muffins with strawberry icing waiting for me. my dad was great like that, he made sure that i knew that i was loved beyond measure. and he still does. i suppose i expected for my dads valentines day surprises to stop once andrew came into the picture. but they didnt. i suppose that once i got married, my dad expected his valentines day surprises to stop…but when he saw my disappointment that first year andrew and i were married when my dads confetti, blueberry muffins with strawberry icing didnt miraculously show up, he probably realized then that those valentines day surprises would never stop. when andrew came into my life, he knew my dislike of valentines. he knew that the story of st. valentine was heart wrenching for me and that because of it, marriage was held even more as a thing to be cherished. he also knew that the day we decided that our online chats were something more, that they were leading to a lifetime together, that day was february 14th 2005…and because of that, andrew smirks at my dislike of valentines, because despite my indifference and desire to treat valentines as any other day, there’s no denying that the day is a reminder of love. the love that came into my life “officially” valentines day seven years ago. despite my protests, he still makes sure he reminds me just how much i’m loved to this day.

the bad: pandora. limited song skips, cant go back and listen to the same songs? please pandora, you underestimate my love of music. and yes, i realize i could pay for your upgrade, but free would just be so much more awesome. yes, so much more awesome, i said it…i went there.

and the in between: itunes. {hmm..you’d think there was a music theme today or something?} i love itunes. like, love love. no no, you dont understand. i love itunes like …well, the only analogy that came to mind was a crack reference followed by a fat kid loving cake…cause i love me some cake. but moving on! i love itunes but itunes and i have a love hate thing going on. whenever my itunes stores opens, i’m usually looking to buy one specific song. i click buy and then suddenly, i find myself on another song i’d never heard of clicking buy. and again, buy. suddenly i’m clicking buy and buy and buy and organizing and listening and then suddenly i realize i paid for these things. “um, how many songs did i just buy? and an album, two albums? holy monkey what did i just put on my credit card.” this is a usual occurrence between itunes and myself. like i said, it’s a love hate thing.

it’s the little things in life…whether it be the good, the bad, or the in between. whether it be something you dont really like that brings so much good or something you think is the worst thing that ever happened or something you’re just not sure what to think about. who’s to say what makes up the best things in life?

dwell in possibility…

communication. it’s something we do every day. it’s something that books have been written about, speakers have spoken on, and relationships can be made or broken by it. communication. it’s complicated.

given the opportunity, i would much rather communicate via an email or text message versus a phone call or face to face meeting. i realize in this industry, that can be a deterrent…not being great in person – rambling accidentally on and on often offering way too much information, saying words out of turn, getting your information jumbled, seeming like a scattered idiot. like i said, communication, it’s complicated. if i could, i would write letters every day with a quill and ink and deliver it via pigeons, the pony express or even an old bottle a cork and an ocean. there’s just something about writing that i prefer. maybe it’s the way i can order my thoughts…thoughts that usual race so fast it’s hard to verbalize them all in the correct order with the correct importance values applied. it’s difficult. and while every day i try to become better at communicating verbally, i’d rather write.

this year, one of the things i promised myself was that i would write more. i removed the pressure of blogging so often from 4 to 5 times a week down to 2 to 3 times a week. also, i removed the requirement that nearly every post have a photo. this is a photography business, yes, but it’s also me, it’s my blog, its a reflection of me and i enjoy writing and sharing…with or without a photo. i also started two other blogs on tumblr solely for the purpose of writing without guilt and without approval. it’s been a strange adjustment, not opening this blog every day and trying to write something of importance or something quirky. yet by doing that, i’ve noticed a change in my content. it’s freer {weird word}, it’s better {in my opinion}, and it’s more…well, it’s more me.

so, a question: what gets in the way of your communication and what are you willing to do to change it?

dwell in possibility…

one of my personal goals for this year was to allow myself the time to read again. growing up, reading was just about all that i did. my mom said that sending me to my room was slighting counterproductive in the discipline department because i would happily lock myself away in the there for hours reading. the libraries near where i lived, i had bled them dry reading every nancy drew and the occasional hardy boy they had stacked up on their shelves. the librarian would chuckle at me when i appeared with my library card and stack of anywhere from three to five books at a time. “sweetie, you’re going to take awhile reading all of these.” she would say. my mom would stand knowingly behind me, silent. those books would be read by the end of the week if not sooner. i inhaled books. i still inhale books.

when i grew old enough to start buying my own books, my mom would insist that due to my reading speed, it would be far more practical to continue checking them out from the library. but just like belle in beauty and the beast, i have a book problem. if i could have the library beast gives her in the castle, i’d be in heaven…you know, so long as there was a starbucks barista built in.

crazy love, overhwelmed by a relentless God by francis chan: this book was as hard to read as salt water is to gargle with. it’s challenging. it’s not just challenging, it’s crazy challenging. it punches you in the gut and then lovingly gives you a hug…you know, if this book was a person. the profile of the obsessed found in chapter eight was the hardest. it makes me want to love my Redeemer more. it makes me want to be more willing, more trusting, it makes me want more of Him. buy it, borrow it, check it out at the library, but read it. read it and go crazy.

xenocide by orson scott card: dont judge me, i love science fiction books. i love science fiction movies. i love the science fiction channel on tv. this book is book three in the ender series {yes, i realize i sound like a huge geek, and yes, i claim huge geekdom} for me, there comes a risk with reading series books. i tend to get hooked. with this particular series, there’s two different perspectives for the same story, so it’s really two series in one series. confusing? try reading them. i’ve read three- there are five left {okay so really six cause supposedly there’s another coming out in february…again, geekdom!} and then, it’s on to the hunger games, hopefully before the movie comes out. like i said, i get hooked.

dwell in possibility…

it’s the little things that make up my days. it’s the little things i remember, the little things i love, and the little things that drive me up the wall. the good, the bad, and the in between. as i mentioned before, the things we love posts became dry and overdone. i did them too often. but i didnt want to loose the little things that i love from day to day. i didnt want to over share and force myself to find something i love every week if maybe it was a week in which i was dull and boring and more negative than positive. it’s hard to force positivity all the time, especially when so much of life is also contingent on the negative. negatives push us. they affirm the positives and they quite often show us the condition of our hearts. while negativity, does make up bits of life, i just couldnt bring myself to post on and on about a negative.

insert light bulb here.

which leads to “the little things”. it’s a new series i’m introducing to the blog so get excited! or not, you know, you can not be excited too if you wish, but i’m excited and it’s not fun being left out, so get excited with me. the good, the bad, and the in between! something currently good, something currently bad, and something currently undecided.

the good: luna bars. i’m addicted. the lemon zest and the chocolate peppermint stick are the only two i’m not allergic to and frankly, i’ve had two a day for the last week or so. breakfast? yes please. afternoon snack with coffee? why certainly!

the bad: taxes. i’m sorry, i dont care how well you prepare throughout the year, tax season rolls around and suddenly your inbox and mailbox blowup with important documents. what if i throw one away by accident! what if i miss something major and end up in jail for the rest of my life. i would not do well in jail! i quote disney movies which is so not hard core and doesnt belong in jail! tax season, i wish i never had to see you again. i wish you just would go take up permanent residence on a deserted island somewhere with a little fruity umbrella drink to keep you company. far, far from me.

the in between: five hour energy. i’m not one for energy drinks. coffee is about the extent of it. and it used to be gatorade when i was in middle school and high school and played sports. i used to drink it after working out until my trainer informed me of how bad it actually can be for you if not used properly. so i went with water and called it a day. recently, when on our trip to colorado with andrew and my brother in law, they bought me a five hour energy. we were tired, we were hangry {you know, that hungry that is so hungry you become angry?}, and frankly, i think my brother in law just wanted to see me hyper. i never drank it. in fact, it’s still sitting here in the drawer of my desk. i want to drink it, really i do! it’s taunting me like that little bottle in alice and wonderland labeled “drink me”. so since i’m terrified {one, that it will taste horrible and two that i’ll pretty much light up light a christmas tree and rocket into the ceiling} i’m taking suggestions. to drink, or not to drink, that is the question!

dwell in possibility…

i love creating lists. goals, post its, highlighters, pens, notebooks, calendars…let’s just say office depot is my happy place. but once january 1 rolls around, suddenly those lists, goals, post its, highlighters, pens, notebooks and calendars terrify me. suddenly, coming up with what’s next for the year makes me want to run and hide. the fear of failure will usually incapacitate me for a time until finally, i pick up the pen, the notebook and set aside a highlighter, stack of post its and the calendar, and face my fear.

i’m always afraid my dreams are too big. i’m always afraid i’ll give into my laziness and my fear of failing will become a reality. but i’m also afraid that one day, i might lose my passion due to complacency. i want something great. i want something big. so here’s what next.

• find balance in my work life and personal life
• do work that makes me happy
• shoot 12 weddings
• complete the challenge
• begin the 2013 re-branding process
• complete all notebooks and ideas from jasmine star and lara casey workshops
• better utilize two bright lights
• shoot at least two themed shoots
• incorporate my clients story into their engagement shoot, stop shooting cookie cutter engagement shoots that any couple could be dropped into. if that means costs go up in order to do shoots like that, so be it…it’s where i want to be and what i want to be shooting
• install a new blogging schedule that removes the “blogging for bloggings sake” element
• purchase a second 50mm 1.2 for andrew, or an 85mm 1.2 and a second 70-200, new alien bees lighting, and kelly moore bag
• attend a jasmine star workshop or speaking engagement
• create a bucket list of things i want to shoot and then make steps to shoot them
• streamline my post processing and the blogging process
• improve my vendor relationships
• breathe some life back into my client experience. update things, keep it fresh and personal.

photography goals, personal goals, their all done. i have lists. i have a plan. i’m ready to throw it out the window should God’s plans for this year be completely unexpected or out of this world crazy different. it happens and i’m ready. but here we go, 2012…bring it on.

dwell in possibility…

there’s something terrifying about wide open spaces. while they’re beautiful and breathtaking, they expose things. in their vast emptiness, they expose all that is around them. the word itself is cringe worthy: expose. but i’m learning that through exposure, things come to the surface that can bring about some intense growth in much needed areas of life. it’s terrifying and sometimes painful, but it’s also beautiful and breathtaking.

in the minutes before kristin and chris arrived for their engagement shoot, the vast emptiness of the wide open spaces i chose to shoot in overwhelmed me. i felt small. i felt insignificant. i walked for a bit praying that these areas of growth i’ve been experiencing would be a little less terrifying and a little less painful. it’s hard to be exposed. it’s hard to see all your flaws and failures out there in the open. it’s hard to see past them to the things that have been accomplished and to keep in mind all the great and incredible beautiful things there as well.

as the shoot came to a close, i found myself thankful for the wide open, for the empty spaces. it’s challenging, it’s terrifying, but it kick starts growth. as i watched kristin and chris in the midst of such wide open spaces, their love, their friendship, and their warmth towards each other soothed me as i shot. there they were, two people completely in love and about to commit the rest of their lives to one another and there i was, feeling exposed in the wide open space. and yet, that exposure – those feelings of fear – they were all worth it. 100% worth it.

dwell in possibility…

……………………today our blog is silent………………….

the sounds and smells of the lawn mower always reminds me of him. the mixture of gasoline and freshly cut grass instantly pulls me back to the crush i had on him in high school. you see, my parents used to hire him to take care of our lawn. he drowned out the sound of the mower with his headphones and i watched through my window as his back glistened with sweat under the summer heat as he worked. and as he worked, i would wait for him to come near the numerous windows in my cantaloupe orange room with the sheer curtains and i would pace. i wanted to look like i was accidentally walking passed the window to catch his eye. i wanted to look completely unaware of his presence and have it be a happy accident when i smiled back at him. so there i would wait, cleaning my room, organizing my closet, reading a book in my chair under the window…

i married that guy. i married the guy that took care of my parents lawn. the guy that i would watch as he was completely unaware. the guy that i would try to find reasons to talk to. the guy that always reminded me of the smell of freshly cut grass, gasoline, the heat of the summer, and the sound of the lawn mower. i married him.

today as i drove to the store with my windows down, i happened across a lawn company going about their work. as i came to a stop at the light, i smiled at a worker as he dropped a yellow pansy into the small hole he had just dug. the smell of the grass, gasoline, dirt and sweat drifted into my windows along with a few bits of grass and dust. today i was reminded of just how lucky i am to have him. today i was reminded of that guy i married and how much i love him.

dwell in possibility…