Every time I have one of these days I sing in my head (and sometimes out loud): “mama said there would be days like this…”   This morning my 6 year old would not get dressed and decided that she would fight me tooth and nail to get on her clothes.  As a result we did not have time to put her hair in ponytails.  You would have thought no ponytails in her hair equaled to being stung by a thousand bumble bees.  We exchanged words in the car (to put it nicely).  A pull-over one street over followed with my long, skinny pointer finger coming out waving as hard as it could muster.  10 punishments later, we pulled into the school where tears were still flowing from the fact that her hair was un-ponytailed.  Walking through the halls, I felt so much shame in allowing my daughter to cry and show her sadness (aka anger).  Not trying to fix it was very hard for this Mom who likes to portray that she is pretty awesome.  I got back in the car and breathed in the stale milk air deeply and then did all I knew how to do: cry for help.  My prayer went something like this:

God, give me mercy.  I don’t know how to do this. Am I screwing my children up?  Am I really a terrible mother?  How do I discipline over & over yet still show them love & grace?  I give up.

Then I realized that this was where God wanted me to be… helpless, yet knowing that He can help.  And I have to admit, I was sort of mad at Him about it.  I didn’t want to be helpless.  I wanted to be strong.  To know the right answers.  To be the perfect Mother.  To have it all together.  But guess what- I don’t.  Not even close to it.  So, I will say that prayer over & over for the rest of my life… God, give me mercy.  God, give me mercy.

Can you imagine this beauty giving me such grief????

This was my second time to photograph this adorable family of 3. And I was both excited and sad to find out that they were moving to Texas.  But also could understand since we are going through the moving process ourselves. (that is if moving across town actually counts)  Moving is such a bittersweet experience.  So sweet in the fact that you are able to give yourself a new beginning.  A fresh slate to write a new chapter of your story.  The bitterness is in the ending of an old chapter.  Especially a chapter that included firsts in your family.  The first time you lived together as a married couple.  Walking in the front door with your firstborn.  The hallways have memories.  I can almost hear the little pitter patters of feet running down our little hallway with the wooden floor.  Beginnings always means there is an end.  And I know we will miss this part of our story as I am sure this beautiful family will too as they start their new life in Texas.

For now, enjoy these memories of your last days in the great state of Tennessee.  What a beautiful way to remember….

The fact that I just wrote “Nashville beach photographer” in the subject line makes me laugh.  It seems like an oxymoron, right?  No, it’s not Nashville Shores or the beach at Percy Priest that I am speaking of.  It’s just me, a girl from Nashville, traveling down to the beautiful beaches of 30A to photograph beautiful families.  And sometimes I feel like I am dreaming when I really think about what I am given the opportunity to do as work.  Seriously, I am so thankful to do what I do.  I feel like I say it all the time (and I do) but I am still just astonished that this is my life.  Not that its perfect because believe me, it’s not.  Far from that, in fact.  Especially this time of year with taxes- I want to just run away.  But with all the bad included – I love what I do.  Especially when it includes going to one of my favorite places in the world: the beach.

Some good friends asked me to take photographs of them while on Spring Break.  They drove up to Rosemary Beach and we spent the morning laughing and having fun taking pictures.  I always say that there is something about being on vacation that makes a family seem so much more relaxed and themselves.  It really makes for a different kind of photographs.

So if you are in the Destin/30A area this July 7-14 – contact me!  I have a few spots left….

Enjoy a few of my favs…

The saying, “a picture speaks a thousand words” is all that is ringing in this crazy head of mine as I try to introduce this family of six.  Try is the key word because my words seem inadequate to tell even part of the story.  The story is one of redemption.  And it all started with Anne following her heart to Africa, completely unknowing that she would someday bring a part of Africa back with her.  I can remember Anne reading her diary out loud to a small group of us at church, her words and tears spilling out across the room as if a Tsunami were swallowing the very walls around our souls.  The walls were down.  Anne’s transparency is magnetic and brings true beauty everywhere she goes.  The story began to unfold and we were introduced to a little baby in a far away country that would soon to become one of ours.  We fell in love.  Ali Rose was loved with our prayers and tears as we passed around pictures of this motherless little baby girl in Africa.  But we all knew she was motherless no longer.  There was a beautiful, strong mother sitting among us that already loved her as only a mother can love.

Today Ali Rose is one.  Her first birthday was filled with those that love her and call her their own.  We are so glad God wrote you into our story.  Here is an excerpt from a blog post from Anne on Ali Rose’s first birthday….

A year ago today, the labor pains began in her body. A year ago today, the yearning for another child was heavy on my heart.

A year ago today, she traveled to the nearest hospital because she and her unborn baby were in distress.
A year ago today, I traveled to another state to be with an old friend and meet her newborn son.
A year ago today, she received woeful medical care, which turned into horrific medical care because of her limited ability to pay.
A year ago today, the Lord took away my desire to have another biological child.
A year ago today, she cried out in agony- her body wrecked with pain.
A year ago today, I was comfortable in this life where I have MORE than enough of everything.
A year ago today, she brought this baby into the world.
A year ago today, He whispered to me I know the child for you.
A year ago today, this baby took her first breath and opened her bright eyes.
A year ago today, I pleaded that the Lord would bring this child, who He had for our family, to me.
A year ago today, they placed this baby on her mother’s chest. Her mother overflowed with love for the little one.
A year ago today, I was hoping & praying for another one to love.
A year ago today, the baby was thriving but her mother began to fight for her life.
A year ago today, I sipped my Starbucks- which would have been the equivalent cost for medical care that could have saved her mother’s life.
A year ago today, her world was turning dark.
A year ago today, mine was becoming bright.
I will never be able to thank Rose- (Ali Rose’s birth mom) for the treasure that her beautiful daughter is to me and to our family. I can only say that my heart has been breaking today for Rose. A wise friend told me she believe’s that birth parents get an awesome view from Heaven of their children’s firsts; first step, first word, first birthday. On this day I believe Rose is looking down, I hope she is smiling. For her daughter, my daughter is perfect. And she will blow out her first candle on her birthday cake tonight surrounded by love.
For the Lord knew that she would need mother’s to step in early on. She had two foster mother’s who loved her well in the first months of her life in Uganda. They operated from an outpouring of the Father’s love that he lavished on them- and they lavished on her. Rose sacrificed, Mandie Joy & Rachel sacrificed, all for this little baby girl who would come and join our family and we have been the unlikely recipients of this deep and sacrificial love. We have been blessed.

Sometimes your week just doesn’t go as expected.  Especially if you are a Mom to young children.  A feverish child wakes you up in the middle of the night and you lose those precious hours of sleep.  The next day you are needing to work but you are holding them tightly on the couch.  But I must say that I am so so thankful that being a Mom comes first.  I absolutely love, love what I do as a photographer but I love my children even more.  And I am grateful that I can put down my work for a few days to care for them.  Now I am not saying it’s all glamorous and that I don’t complain.  Because, believe me, I do.  And I confess that as I write these sweet, loving words my 2 year old is taking a much needed nap and my oldest is at school.  So it’s easy to say it now.  In another few hours, I may have to coax these thoughts out of me as I try to cook dinner with a fussy boy on my hip and a little girl needing my undivided attention on her art project.  But for now, it’s quiet and I am thankful.

And within the 10 minutes it took me to upload the photos, my boy woke up.  After only a 30 minute nap.  So back to work I go, hoping that the whispers of thankfulness will ring true in my ear.

Here are a few cute photos I took of my growing girl..

Rushing. Constant noise in my ear.  My breath can’t keep up with the next breath.  Thoughts run together until I can’t remember why I walked downstairs in the first place.  TV. Radio. Noise Machines. Iphones. Internet.   All keeping me at the pace of a racehorse trying to win the Kentucky Derby.  But this body is tired of racing all the time.  When my body finally caught up with the endless amount of chasing kids, running errands, and taking photographs, I was beat – not just physically but also spiritually. Yet I live in the 21^st century where racing is essential to survival.

Thankfully, there is an hour that exists outside of this insanity.  My 8:30am Yoga class is a place where I find refuge and rest.   For one hour the racing stops.  When I am in shavasana, the intrusive noises of my day are quieted and I can actually hear the voice of God.  He tells me that I’m strong because He is my strength.  He tells me that I can have peace because He has overcome the world.  He tells me that my body is beautiful because His hands formed me in my mother’s womb.  He tells me it’s good to be still because that’s when I truly know He is God.  And He tells me that my breath is sacred because it comes from Him alone.

The word Yoga means “to join, unite or to attach.” If God is truly Wholly Other, then I can’t imagine a better place for God to reside than in a room full of people uniting their bodies together in quiet harmony. There is no other communal bodily experience (outside of worship itself) that I have found to be more beautiful.  Our bodies were made for more than just beating against the wind.  Lying on my mat, I can hear the kickboxing class below – the thudding of feet just trying to keep up with the music that drowns out their own fear of not succeeding.  It begins to sounds like my every day life. Yet when I am quiet I am reminded that God made us for stillness, meditation and to be in tune with our bodies.

In Romans, we are told that God commands us to “offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, for this is your spiritual act of worship.”  Is beating our bodies ragged in this fast-paced society a living sacrifice?  I think of a sacrifice as someone that is fully aware of how alive they are in their body: counting every breath, feeling every rise and fall of the chest, knowing that the body is the armor of life. Dead sacrifices are no longer aware of what they feel or think.  And Most of the time I feel like a dead sacrifice running around trying to catch my next breath.  Yet I long to be a living sacrifice - fully aware that both my breath and my soul are sacred.  Understanding that life – my very soul – is a gift.

In his article, “Christian Yoga: It’s a Stretch,” Mark Driscoll describes the practice of Yoga as “demonic.” He uses the same passage above from Romans to explain, “everything we do with our physical bodies also involves our immortal souls.”  While I completely agree with his statement, I disagree that yoga cannot be a means for binding the two. Body and soul are inextricably linked, and breath can become prayer – the physical and spiritual working together in perfect harmony  Susanna Herring, owner of Hot Yoga of Nashville, so wonderfully explains this harmony of body and spirit, “We bow to the divine in each one of us. As a Christian, I consider bowing to the divine by acknowledging the Holy Spirit inside of us and acknowledging we humans are made in the image of God.” This acknowledgement Susanna is describing – saying “Namaste” at the end of the practice – frightens many Christians. Yet “Namaste” means to give notice to another person, to recognize their presence.  It means seeing the divine that resides in each person who is made in the very image of God Himself. When do we take time to actually recognize someone else’s presence and to give such a beautiful form of acknowledgement? By saying this, we are not worshipping a human form of a false god.  We are admiring the beauty of the greatest of God’s creations: the human body & Spirit.  And ultimately we are worshipping God Himself when we place our hands together, our fingers pointed to something beyond ourselves, and say Namaste – I see you.

In my experience, there are three components to yoga: exercise, breathing and meditation. All three are essential in understanding how yoga and Christianity are not at war with each other.  While most Christians believe that exercise is a God-honoring activity, having a fit body is not going to get you into heaven.  In fact, I dare to say that sometimes it may keep you from having true communion with Jesus.  Our body worshipping culture tries to convince us that if only ______ were flatter, more toned, straighter, etc. – then we could be loved.  But Jesus tells us something different – ; He says that He loves us just as we are.  And what I love about yoga is that it reiterates exactly what Jesus teaches: be who you are, where you are.  My teacher, Marlaine, always reminds us to listen to our bodies and to not compare ourselves with anyone in the class.  The practice is for you alone.  As regular exercise, yoga is so freeing to me because, unlike every other exercise class I have attended, I feel no pressure to compete or compare myself with those around me.

Breathing comes second nature to the exercise in the practice of yoga.  My yoga friend, Elisabeth, reminded me yesterday that the Hebrew name for God, “Yahweh,” literally sounds like an inhale/exhale when spoken in Hebrew.  God’s name is breath.  And He breathed our very existence into place.  We inhale our very first breath into this world and exhale our very last as we enter eternity.  Breath is essential to our life with God, and yet it is something we take into consideration very little.  We, as Christians, think it to be too mystical or self-centering to focus on the body’s response to life.  Yet it is our very breath that God intended to remind us of Him every time we say His name.  And as I breathe in and out on my mat, His very name is spoken all around, whether the lips know it or not.

This can only bring me to meditation. Though its history is steeped in Christianity, the term often frightens away many Christians for sounding too “New Age.”  People wonder if it’s possible to meditate on Jesus during yoga practice while someone lying on the mat next to them is meditating on something (or someone) else?   This brings me to another question: how do we define meditation?  Webster defines it as “engaging in mental exercise for the purpose of reaching a heightened spiritual awareness.”  It is something that is internal, personal, and between you and God alone.  No one else can enter into that space.  If I can’t be brought into a place with God in a room full of people from all different backgrounds, then how will I ever learn to find Him in the world around me?  In his book, Blue Like Jazz, Don Miller says something that is really beautiful to me.  He was on a college campus in Portland that was very well known for its liberalism and hatred for Christians.  One night after leaving a wild, worldly event on campus, Don looked back “at the kids laughing, dancing, and throwing up.” And he “felt very strongly that Jesus was relevant in this place, that if He was not relevant here then He was not relevant anywhere.”  That’s exactly how I feel about my place in yoga.  If Jesus cannot be found in that room, then He cannot be found anywhere.

I am not discounting the fact that the origins of yoga come from the Hindu tradition.  But the Hindu’s took the above gifts from the true God and turned them into a way to worship a false god.  I could argue this point in many ways in the fact there are many things we love in America that has it origins in other religious traditions.  One example of this is the Olympic games – originating in the worship of Greek gods.  When someone participates in the Olympic games, we do not accuse them of dancing with the devil or worshipping another god.  We understand that the meaning of the games have changed and evolved over the centuries.  Can someone still participate in the games for the intention of worshipping a Greek god?  Of course.  But a Christian can also run with the purpose of living out his life verse of Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

This is what it comes down to:  If I really believe that God is Yahweh, who commands that every breath out of our mouths gives glory to His name, then I must be able to find Him everywhere.  And an unlikely place that I have found Him is in a little room at the YMCA, a place I never expected to find Him.  Ever.  I did not go there seeking to find Him.  But He was there waiting for me.  Waiting to make my breath part of His.  Waiting to give me quiet in the midst of chaos.  Waiting to embrace me for who I am today, not for who I will be tomorrow.  Waiting to sing over me with His presence.  Yes, it’s an unlikely place to find God.  But the more I come to know Him, the more I realize that’s how He works – meeting unlikely people in unlikely places.  So to all you who believe yoga is not for Christians, I say please find a place to be with God in the quiet, in the stillness.  Find a place to listen to God’s name come out in your breath.  Find a place to hear Him find delight in you.  It doesn’t have to be yoga.  It doesn’t even have to be in church.  But please don’t jump to judgment for your fellow brothers and sisters who do find God in a dimly lit room as they move their bodies to the flow of the very name of God.  Namaste.

*these are pictures of one of my good friends and her sister who are both instructors at Hot Yoga Nashville

I made these cute little cards for Valentine’s day.  They were so excited to give them to their friends at school.  May your day be filled with love….

Photographing this beautiful family was a breeze.  And quite a cold breeze at that – the temps were freezing that day!  But they pushed through the cold like pros and smiled through the chatter of their own teeth.  And I must say, the results turned out just beautiful.  The photograph with the ivy background reminds me of an ad for Ralph Lauren – full of elegance and beauty.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to photograph your family as they all came in from different parts of the world to be together.  You all made my morning much brighter!

Enjoy a few of my favorites…

My sweet friend wanted me to capture her beautiful 7 month old little baby girl in photographs that looked a bit old fashioned.  I jumped at the opportunity to do something a little different than my normal approach to a shoot.  I loved how the pearls added to the effect of the vintage look.  And that hat – seriously?

Here are  a few that I really love…. Enjoy!

Sign up today because there are only a few spots available!