11 October 2011

letters to isaiah.


my dearest baby boy, tomorrow you will turn one. so bittersweet. you have lived along side of us for a whole year, you are our family. it has been my greatest pleasure and privilege to watch you grow. i have had the joy of relearning what i take for granted and looking upon the world with fresh eyes. never have i been so strong spiritually as i have over this last year, marveling over your creation, your appearance, your growth even before birth. it has been awesome to experience so intensely such evidence of Christ's sovereignty and mastery. i cherish my time with you and all the happiness you bring. all your slobbery kisses and pats with grubby hands. your toothy smiles and baby breath. i even miss you when you go to bed for the night, checking in on you enough times that i have accidentally woke you. meeting you was one of the most powerful and beautiful moments of my life. i remember thinking i could not ever possibly love you more. and yet, i do. everyday. even more now than when i started this letter. i count myself blessed that God chose me, created me to be your mother. at times, i have failed you over this last year, and i'm sure i will again over the next. but i love you desperately. you came into this world so fragile, so small. and rapidly you have gotten so much bigger, so independent for such a little boy. my heart continually swells and overflows: first a smile, then a laugh, then a roll, then a crawl, and now you are walking with large strides. almost running. on your way to becoming a man i am already so proud of. dear boy, you shine. you are not perfect, but then again who is. what you are, however, is a gift, a spark...a life created with care and intention. even at one year old, i am starting to get glimpses into who you are becoming. you are so serious at times, so inquisitive. you are bashful in certain situations and downright silly before bed time. it's my favorite time. you love to wander and explore. you're not affraid to be alone. you're fascinated by doors. you're stubborn and persistent. half the time you cry when scolded and the other half, you laugh. you're clever and quick. you're sweet but with a temper. you've been a glorious challenge and an unmatched reward. one day you will read this letter, perhaps some time from now, but you might not fully understand it for quite awhile. but i pray one day you'll have your own family, and it will all make perfect sense. what i want you to know is this: this life happens too quickly. don't waste it. i pray that you will love wrecklessly and chase Jesus with all your heart. that you are tough and tender. that you are gentle, a listener. stay simple and wide eyed. be humble and forgiving. laugh often, but take care not to be foolish. fight for the Truth. my son, i love you so greatly. please remember love at such a magnitude is only possible through Christ. isaiah, happy first birthday to you. i will love you always. always.
so very,

20 July 2011

my bathtub is a time machine.

i drew myself a bath, let the water run over my toes. i poured in some salts because i like their grit, and i like the way they smell, though i'm not sure what the fragrance is supposed to be. they are a homemade gift in an unmarked glass bottle. they're sweet and fresh. i've nearly used a third of my portion.

then i poured some more.

and just like that, i found myself somewhere in a memory. i was a little girl in an unnamed apartment...clean and white and empty with firm brown carpet and freshly painted walls. i saw myself exploring, peeking around corners, and pondering adventure. i was there. submerged in this recollection. it was keen and real, and then it was gone. i couldn't tell you how old i was or whose apartment i was in. but the scent of those salts brought me back...through a series of buried connections i found myself in the past. time travel. it was so vividly distinct and so cloudy, like remembering a dream. it shot me through the webs of my subconscious and then snapped me back to my bath.

i don't know if this makes any sense at all. or if it's supposed to. i think the smell of the salts must have reminded me, some version of myself, of painted walls. fresh paint.

this remembering has happened a surprising amount lately. perhaps it's because i live on the farm again...i'm home...stepping over this familiar ground. or maybe it's because now i have a child of my own and find myself reliving the past often, find myself aware of my age. aware that i'm supposed to be an adult, yet excited and envious to watch him grow. i find a part of myself beautifully longing and aching for something that has past away. contemplating breveity. but still, i'm delighted with each fleeting memory...capturing each treasure in a mason jar like children do.

i'm thoroughly enjoying this life, the making and the remembering. the change. from time to time, though, i do admittingly get lost in the photographs, even ones from not even a year ago. when our son was born. the nostalgia is sticky sweet and heavy like smoke. the years lap unyieldingly, flying right on by. i'm amazed at how different everything has become. but what's stranger still, is how much everything is the same.*

*but more on that later.

06 May 2011


ok...this whole seven blogs in seven days thing is going to take a bit longer than i thought.
i'm thinking a month-ish.
no surprise there.
i AM writing the blogs, but found the words only come easy when they're ready.

typical, me

03 May 2011


i've been thinking. it's time for a change.

lately i've been feeling equal parts both under- and overwhelmed. there's been a lot of busyness combined with a lack of motivation. there's been a lot of waiting and a lot of blind responding. what i mean by of all of this, i guess, is just that i've been suffering from a blurring of priorities. anxiousness. complacency. a lot of wishing with very little doing. basically, i see this version of myself...much lighter, much more proactive, much more fulfilled...a polished version of who i am, and, until now, i haven't been willing to change. and i see this transformation not merely as a destination but as an ever evolving journey.

now, this is a multi-faceted thing i'm dealing with...rooted in the spiritual, the physical, the maternal, the artistic...and on and on...

in terms of this blog, however, my primary goal in creating this space for myself was to connect with fellow artists and creators. to showcase work and follow the lives of those who inspire me. which has happened, quite successfully, to some degree. as in, i feel i have made genuine friendships and have identified areas in which i want to grow and mediums i want to explore. however, i have not managed to actively create anything of my own. not really (in the fine art realm that is). i have a fully stocked studio. i have the time and the opportunity. but fear has made a home in my heart. fear of failure. inadequacy. having been exposed to some very talented, colorful, whimsical people...has indeed left me feeling inspired...but also incapable. dull. unimpressive. such a combination has left my hands empty and this personal space...for the most part...inactive...blank.

this perfectionist, competitive attitude i've harbored for quite some time has tied my hands. and i've allowed it to. and now, i'm ready to push through. i have to. and i can't explain why. my goal is not to worry about whether or not people will love it. or if it's perfect. or if my peers are impressed. i know i have blogged about this before. but really, it's now or never. as most things in life really are.

which brings me to my second realization. i need to use this space. for myself. to document and remember...to purge...and if somebody else out there resonates with what i'm saying...well, that'd be great. but it can't be my motivation. i'm past trying to dazzle and sugarcoat. i do consider myself a positive person. and i do feel, errr, know i am extremely blessed. but i cannot skim things at a surface level any more. i'm hungry to share my burden as well as my joy. i'm done trying to appear endlessly strong. unoffensive. maybe all my photos will be from my phone and maybe my words will be mispelled or incorrectly used and maybe i won't sound sparkly intelligent or witty or create poetry with my syntax. i don't want to fake it. i don't want to rely on acceptance. i don't want to feel forced to write. chained. and i don't want to sound self loathing or pitiful or whiny. what i DO want is to be honest. i want to facilitate my creative process by gaining motivation and momentum through feedback and journaling. i want to document my innermost and speak about issues of the heart, leaving out publically only the very deepest, darkest and most fragile. i want to speak about my art but, more importantly, about my faith...openly and often, if not laced into everything i have to say. i want to encourage, inspire, share, give...i've taken for such a very long time...by purposefully pouring myself out.

i'm going to write seven blogs over the next seven days. i'm going to address fear, anxiety, doubt...and really anything that makes me uncomfortable to talk about.


29 March 2011

playing catch up.

remember me?
i'm back in this space.
i've missed writing it all, narrating my day to day.
with everything going on, this place has been neglected.
& i felt a sense if pressure about it all.
before i get back into the current,
i thought i'd play a little game of catch up.
photos of my preceeding life.

winter came and went.
and came and went.
overstayed her welcome, really.
she's a temperamental beauty:

valentine's day showed up
in a handmade kind of way.
my heart well is continuously overflowing:

(necklace by HouseThatCrowBuilt)
 my little one learned to sleep like this:
(i love that tushy!)

i moved my smithing studio into my dad's glass space
(& i sold my first piece).
i've been practicing and expanding horizons.
the future is full of possibility.
but more on that later: 

as of a month or so ago,
i now not only photograph with my husband,
but i have started working with him in the office as well.
it's good for me:

we've been getting acclimated to our new home
on the family farm.
or should i say, reacclimated since it was
my childhood home.
doesn't that sound romantic?
practically speaking, it's been fantastic for our finances,
as well as a great excuse
 to purge & consolidate.
it's an unbeatable walk to my momma's house.
it smells earthy and is downright iridescent.
plus, you can't beat the nightsong:

there's been some change,
some growth,

and then there's this little man.
my heart beat.
he's approaching six months.
time flies, they say.
he's getting so big: 

 and then spring came like a festival.
sunshine for my marrow:

what have you been up to?


23 February 2011

so, i don't typically do "wordless wednesday" posts, but, if i did...it'd be this.

bahaha...wait, does laughing count?

oh my stars.

(isaiah christian, 15 weeks)

i'm in love!
 ...with a short, pudgy bald(ish) little man.
and boy, oh boy, am i!?


*side note: i tried to actually put this up when it happened...ummm, weeks ago...
but it didn't work. tonight it did. better late than never? why, yes, i think so.