May
23
2013My session with this dear family started like most with a simple inquiry in my Facebook messages.
But this wasn’t the normal sort of photography inquiry. In fact, it had nothing to do with photography at all. Diane and Titus had just been selected by a birth mom pregnant with twins and wanted to pick the brain of the only woman they knew with young twins: me.
One thing led to another after I dumped my unused double stroller, registry advice, and lots of crazy pep talks on Diane, I begged to photograph the babies. I’m pretty shameless. 🙂 Adoption is expensive and I like to love on adoptive families however I can. So a session with the most gorgeous twins I’ve ever laid eyes on (besides my own), was sooo exciting that it was a gift.
However, as a twin mom, it wasn’t the best gift I could give. The best gift were words of comfort when I heard Diane had hit the 2-4 month absolutely exhausted slump. I wrote down how difficult it is to like two beings who rarely let you sleep more than 2 hours straight and yet whom you love dearly. The first 5 or so months of twin motherhood is pure survival mode. It’s hard. I’m not saying it’s not worth it, because I love being a twin mom. But there are moments in those first months where I would have handed over my babies to that kind old stranger lady in the grocery store who uttered the words “I always wanted twins” just to go home and nap. There are moments where somehow the grace of God eased me through, but I still have no idea how I and the babies survived. And I want new twin mothers to hear that it’s okay to have those feelings and those moments.
I come to love each session more than the last… but I have to say this is one of my very favorite sessions ever. Diane and Titus, thank you for letting me talk you into coming for a session! It was a true gift for me to snuggle your new ones.
I had some help from the lovely Mayfield Photography for this session. She shot some spectacular detail images and was also the hands behind my composite shots!
May
15
2013
She sits down at my table to a plate of just barely warm eggs. She’s tired and she has a long stressful day ahead of her. It’s only 8 am.
“Let’s preach the gospel to each other.” She whispers with wild eyes. “I’ll go first: He is in control.”
Over the course of just 2 minutes we rehearse at least the following truths of the gospel:
- He loves us more than we can imagine.
- He is working everything for our good, even if it hurts.
- His name is Justice. Even when we feel like we have not justice.
- He will never leave or forsake us.
- Our job isn’t to be perfect, but to repent, forgive, and love because we are loved.
And hours later I watch my kids climb trees and pick clover and completely ignore the park structures just 10 feet from us, I wonder about this exchange. I wonder that we, like my children, ignore the specifically constructed playground of the gospel, in preference for pushing each other up the rough ladder of perfectionism. We whisper “Higher, higher. Just pick yourself up again.” Instead of “Run to Jesus. He loves you. It’s he who works in you.”
What if we stopped giving that piece of advice? What if we stopped telling our stories under the guise to encourage? What if we stopped pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps to try again and just cry ugly tears and ask a friend to simply preach the gospel to us?
What if we spent our waking hours preaching the gospel to each other? To our husbands, to our children, to our friends, to the lady with mascara streaks standing in the ice cream aisle, and even to ourselves.
So tell me, friends, how can we preach the gospel this week? Or how have you preached the gospel in the past? I’m hungry to know how the gospel works out.
May
06
2013When they snip that umbilical cord and pass you the squalling babe, a part of you that has been growing and depending on you is now loose.
Before that moment, that baby was part of you. You hugged the toilet for a season knowing that tiny being was being formed. You ate well. You rested when you could. And you decorated a nursery. But all those moments lead to the moment with that child is wrapping water logged fingers around your pinky.
And when your newborn locks eyes with you, you understand that all the suffering of carrying this extra person for months was worth it.
After 9 long months you have just birthed a dream knitted together within you by the very hand of God. <— Click to Tweet
I don’t know about you, but I’ve birthed a lot of dreams in my short life. Getting my driver’s licence (don’t laugh… I’m serious!), finishing college, marrying Derek, starting this fledgling photography business, writing the stories God gives are just a few.
But none of these dreams even compare to the three little dreamers running wild in my home.
My three are all 3 and under, so I don’t yet have an inkling as to what dream God placed in their heart to pursue. I know my Aeralind has a soft heart that hates to see others cry. I know my Bronwyn is a natural leader and will do well if she disciplines herself to hear her followers leads. I know that Sedryn delights in service as I watch him run to the dish washer intent on handing me forks while I put things away. But my dreams for them are simple: that they would hear and believe the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and that they would pursue the dream He knitted into their unique hearts.
I think it’s fair to say that I’m not the only one dreaming big dreams for my children. Moms all over this country are teaching their preschoolers to read. Taking their elementary aged children to soccer, gymnastics, scouts, and music lessons. Watching and coaching as their children encounter those tough middle school years. Teaching responsibility by taking privileges and further coaching. Scrimping and saving for that needed college education while their changing diapers.
But what about those moms on the other side of the world. The ones who live on around $1 a day. What are their dreams for their children?
I don’t think they’re any different. When that 9 month gestation is up and the midwife (or neighbor or mom herself) cuddles the squalling babe in her arms, she sees a promise of a unique dream from the Great Dreamer. And she will do whatever she can to help that child grow up to their potential.
She’s not any different than us. And her child is not any different than ours.
She will go without meals to feed her little one: so would you.
She will let herself be attacked to defend her little one: so would you.
She will walk miles to beg to have her child put on the nearest Compassion School’s sponsorship list: so would you.
She will grow callouses on her knees praying for her child to walk the path of Christ: so will you.
The difference is, most of us will never have to do the first three things. But the truth is we are blessed to do the last thing together.
So, mothers, I’m begging you: let those callouses on your knees develop while praying for a mother and child in poverty in addition to your own brood. Give up a few lattes or those new shoes or that mother’s day brunch and give a mother’s dream child a chance to live. Admit that your child doesn’t like soccer, or gymnastics or scouts, or whatever activity you place them in and use that money instead to teach them about poverty by letting them sponsor and write to a real child in poverty.
Teaching our children to give to birth another’s dream is perhaps the best lesson we could hope to teach as moms.
Apr
30
2013
Dear Derek,
I know you don’t often think of yourself as a God-sized dreamer. I know you struggle with fear of inadequacy.
But remember the definition of a God-sized dream is: desiring more of what God has for you.
Derek, God has so much for you. A job. Three beautiful children. Not to mention a ridiculously quirky wife.
And he’s gifted you with a unique skill set. Hands that like fine work. A mind that “speaks geek”. A heart that loves to pray. And he’s made you a protective landing place for the 4 under your care.
Here’s what I want you to hear most: I will follow you in your dreams and I am blessed to call you mine.
So, sweet husband of mine, solider forward in the full Armor of God. I’ll be right behind you both shielded by your strength and encouraging you to keep at it (because He’s worth it).
Love you more than bacon loves ice cream,
Melissa
(I couldn’t think of a better person to write to when Holley’s prompt was to write a letter to another dreamer in my life.)
Apr
29
2013On the seventh day, God rested.
Sometimes I forget that I’m not better than God and I just keep on working and doing and planning and…and…
This streak usually ends poorly with me crying after an angry outburst that really boils down to me feeling overwhelmed.
(I may or may not have had such an ugly outburst on Monday.)
I don’t like to rest. Because in resting, I have to wait on God.
But I’m learning to rest. Learning to step away from the computer and its hounding me to write or edit. Learning to take knitting needles out to the lawn and create amid preschool laughter. Learning to sew during nap time on somedays even though I know it’s my best hours for writing or editing. I’m learning that chatting with friends idly on Tuesday night (when we’re supposed to be discussing a book) or having Facetime with Julia is often more important than whatever was on my to do list.
God gives me these things as gifts. Rest is a gift whether with a friend or with hands that create or even taking an extra long shower.
And gifts are to be opened with surprise and simply enjoyed. I know that. I love giving gifts and I love watching them be used with joy.
So I’m heading to bed now. To rest in Him and the good gifts He gives. To recharge for the work He has blessed me with tomorrow. To have enough overflow in my daily life to serve him in this God-sized dream.
Yes, I need rest.
