2012 and an empty white board

 

A few days ago Kyle and I sat down and spent about 3 hours talking about this coming year and the last. In my head I had it worked out that we would have this wall of a chalk board and we would make a giant inspiration board for 2012. We don’t have a giant chalk board so rather than make one…. we took 3 dry erase markers, and wrote out our dreams and aspirations for the next year. It looked different than I thought it would. Not surprising…everything does.

We talked about Jesus, and how we want more of Him and less of us. Less of our earthly desires and more of the ability to see things through the lens of His love.

How we want to spend more time outside with our daughter and less time on our phones and laptops.

Under the Mom heading I wrote, “More exercise, less caffeine. Prayer specifically for my husband and family, on purpose. Less shopping. Meal Planning.”

Under the Dad heading we wrote “Relax. Less Everything.”

Under the family heading we wrote “Go to bed earlier.” and “Hikes, because G can!” and “Baby 2???” and “Family worship”

Marriage held “planned date night twice a month” and “retreat every 6 months” (retreat as in GET AWAY)

And despite all of the hurdles we’ll have to take to get there, I wrote “LAND”…and Kyle drew a treehouse with a tree so big that he made the staircase in the trunk, Swiss Family Robinson style, with a window peeking out of the leaves in the middle.

I sat back and stared at that board, as I have for 3 or 4 minutes a day since we made it. And I saw our life, mapped out, dreamed out….not so much planned as inspired. And I get excited.

I think about all the things in my life that God has done that I never thought he would. Desires I didn’t even know I had being fulfilled before they turned into longings. And God, the merciful One, taking away. And I get excited. And nervous.

The last thing I wrote on the white board was “JPP” as in (Jade Pierce Photo). And I felt so much so quickly that it ended up being the thing that I wrote the most under, but couldn’t finish. I walked away from this part of our exercise feeling so…heavy.

Yesterday I felt heavy again. I sat down on the couch and just let the heaviness weigh on me. When Kyle looked at me he recognized it immediately and asked me to share. I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what it was. So I reached into my counseling and knew that my feelings needed to be vocalized and felt in order to be left behind. So I voiced my confusion. I feel like my creativity will die if I keep going down this path. The easy one. The proven one. I feel like maybe I need to be something….different.

The reason that photographers love weddings so much is NOT the money….well the reason I love weddings is NOT the money. It’s the inherent authenticity. The beautiful rawness just waiting to be captured by a shutter. A bride so excited that she just can’t stop smiling. A groom so nervous that he can’t look anyone in the eye, unless it’s to laugh nervously at a joke he didn’t hear because he was too busy thinking about the next 50 years with his bride. And the bridesmaids and the groomsmen, they feel it too. Sisters, brothers, future in-laws, cousins, best friends: all nervous and excited and JOYFUL that their loved one is no longer one, but two. And the cake. The flowers. The old broken down whiskey barrels and vintage books carefully selected by the bride months in advance to give just the right feel in that beautiful reception hall.

Then the ceremony, so carefully scripted and yet most of the time so beautifully flawed. The tears that flow down a groom’s face so freely when he sees his bride coming toward him to join him once and for all. The bride’s father (OH the bride’s father always gets me) so reluctant and seemingly so willing to give his baby girl away to this man who he says he trusts…but it takes a groom a lifetime to prove he’s good enough to a father.

The vows, complete with blunders and nervous stuttering. The rings. The unity whatever is always the best. The sand blows, the candle won’t light…the love remains.

The triumphant declaration of “husband and wife”.

The fantastic reception where everyone gets their chance to show their appreciation to the newly married, and dance their butts off. I’ve seen choreographed dances, long tearful toasts; at my sister-in-law’s wedding, her new brother-in-law sang a rousing acoustic rendition of “Let’s Get it On”, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. Laughing tears are every bit as good as sentimental ones. The first dance of the couple, the mother/son dance, the father/daughter dance. Guess which one always gets my tears flowing?

And the exit. One final time to be adored in your wedding attire amidst sparklers, bubbles, birdseed, and tearful hugs of goodbye.

It’s a story. Every little piece of it. And we’re all living one. With chapters and subtitles and quotes from larger stories inside of our small ones.

And as Kyle and I talk I realize that I want this to be what I capture. The story of people’s lives. Not their Sunday best. Not the primped up perfect version of a family, but the raw and beautiful part of a family. I’m talking about the beauty of a Sunday afternoon in your backyard, having a BBQ. The top knot on a Momma cooking barefoot in a kitchen. The sleeping baby on the couch because she really didn’t want to take a nap, but she was so tired from staying up for the ball drop the night before, and that 20 year old couch is just so comfortable, that she just couldn’t help but sleep. The photos I want to see of my family are the ones where my Mimi is in her bathrobe and curlers with a baby on her hip opening the screen door into the backyard. The simple beauty of it.

And my eyes dried as my guts spilled out for everyone to see, amidst Gemma saying “don’t cry Momma” as I reassured that “Momma’s fine baby, I’m just talking.”  And my dear sweet husband looked at me and said, “Jade, what’s the rush? Take the time. You don’t pressure yourself to be like anyone else in anything but timing. What’s the rush?” And I looked at him and said, “But it’s the first of year.” And he looked at me so lovingly and said with such eloquence, “So?” …he just always knows what to say.

And I feel better. To finally have a handle on what I’ve been feeling the last few months. To name my creativity and have it out there for at least my most important person to see.

And now I’m telling you.

My story consists of so much more than I can display on facebook. So much more than I can tweet in 140 characters. Even more than we can sludge out onto a white board in 3 hours.  And I love living it and want to share that gratitude.

I want to share my gift of storytelling in other’s lives. I want to tell your story.

2012 . storytelling. i’m ready. and I believe the Father is leading us, and speaking to me in new, sweet ways. Oh, how I love Jesus, and his patience with me.

 

 

 

On another note, I feel like G is doing this a lot to me lately. Baby girl is watching me close. Makes me so aware of all the good and terrible things I have to offer as a role model.

But good gosh I love her. And I pray daily for obedience.

 

 

 

Happy.

Being happy isn’t about circumstances. It’s about making a choice to look around and actually see things. All the things. The ugly, the difficult, the beautiful…

& Choose to laugh. Choose to accept. Choose to be happy.

It’s a choice we have to make every day, new.

 

26

I don’t think I can write this post without crying. Part of the reason might be because I can’t stop listening to The Civil Wars today.

I turned 26 last week. I can’t believe I am at this point of my life. My daughter is in her 3rd year of life, my marriage is in it’s 5th.

I spoke to a friend not too long ago who informed me that in her studies of human behavior she has come across some very compelling information that suggests we are exactly who we are going to be, at the core, by the age of 25. The ten years in between 15 and 25 just happen to be the most influential and formative years in a person’s life.

25 years. That’s all I get. Who I am now is who I’m going to be.

At first this little revelation really scared and surprised me. I did not accept this willingly. There is still so much I haven’t learned, so much I want to know and see…how can I form who I am within the experiences I’ve had up to this point? I’ve just really started to figure out who I am, in all honesty.

But when I think about the last year…in short version….the tears, the depression, the intensity of God’s pursuit of me. The discovery of the Truth like I haven’t known in a long time. That I am not defined by my circumstances. I am defined by the pure fact that I am a chosen child, adopted by God. A God who loves me and cares for me and wants what is best for me in my every thought, every laugh, every anguished sob. In my relationship with my husband and daughter, our finances, in my hopes and dreams. And the Truth that nothing can separate me from His pursuit, His love.

This has been a beautiful and agonizing season that reaches back all the way to my adolescence. So if the end of my 25th year means that I have FINALLY begun to realize that my worth, my beauty, my confidence, my hope, is not found within myself or any one person’s thoughts of me or who I should be, then I welcome it with open arms. And I look so forward to the next 25 and the deeper discovery of what it means to be a wife and mother. I’m done with the should be‘s, and I invite the I am‘s.

Father, thank you for this season. It has been so damn hard. But so damn good. I have never known your love and the story of your kindness and grace like I have in this season. I pray that you will reveal yourself to those that I love, in a similar way. And I pray they will recognize you in it, and bring you praise, like I am trying to do. I love you. 

Kyle and I celebrated our birthdays with new tattoos. I know you want to see them. So here they are. Pretty great representations of what the last year or so of our lives have been about.

love.

noise.

i used to hate the noise (the granular effect) that a high iso gives.

but i have come to appreciate the emotion behind the photo, and thus appreciate the look and feel of the original. no, i don’t want to up the luminance. i want to up my sense of what’s important in a photo. and it’s not perfect skin. it’s that tiny window of a moment when a bride’s eyes are closed as her new husband kisses her on the ear. it’s that tender caress of a mother’s hand on her newborn child’s tiny toes in the low light of their living room. the noise?

the visual noise is silenced by the roar of love.

but there is a beauty in the noise.

digging

Ohhhhhh….where to start?

2011 has been so good to us already. I know that the Lord is going to do big and crazy things with us in the coming months. And because I’m not really a resolution maker (and if I was it’s too late for resolutions anyhow), I’m going to list some things that I will choose to believe in 2011.

1. The Lord is with me, and is revealing things to me that are brand new to my spirit, ears and eyes. And I love it.

2. As my family continues to be stretched in ways we never imagined, we will lean on the Lord, the ultimate provider.

3. Love and discipline will continue to be the building blocks of my parenting.

4. I will enjoy my passion of photography in a new way at a new level, because my outlook on life has changed. For the better. And I’ll enjoy my other non-Mom and non-wife activities a lot as well without feeling unnecessary guilt. Because as Gemma gets more and more independent she’s going to start looking at me and thinking, “What does Mommy do besides laundry?” I don’t want the only answer to that to be “the dishes.”

5. More books on gardening, preserving foods, and homesteading than non-fiction will fill my bookshelves this year. (this includes kindle purchases.)

6. I will pray. A lot. And journal those prayers.

7. I know that I will fail at a lot of things, but I will not let my failure squelch my dreams.

8. God will search me, and he will know me. And I will be confident that my dreams are His dreams for our life.

9. Eating good and wholesome things has moved to a higher priority in my household, and will remain there.

10. I will learn how to load and shoot a gun. For emergencies only.

11. I will watch just as much tv as I did last year. Because I love tv.

12. I am excited about where Kyle is leading our family.

13. I get to be in a beautiful wedding this year! And I’m going to look great in that bridesmaid dress.

14. Money is less of a priority, and less of an issue in my life.

15. If I still haven’t cut my hair off by 2012, somebody is getting dreadlocks.

Okay now I’m just listing stuff I want to do.

I loooove 2011. This is going to be fun.

p.s. here is a picture of Gemma’s day in the snow last week. She’s beautiful.

light

“When the light makes you stop and pause, chase it–either sunshine streaming in through a kitchen window, or the last hanging-on as the sun sinks in the sky on a winter afternoon.”

I’m reading a book right now that is feeding my creative side. It is teaching, and inspiring so much in my photography world, and not on the portrait side of things. On the unposed beauty side of things. On the personal growth and connection of my soul through a lens side of things.

The picture above is not normally one I would consider great. The framing is a little off, not enough to be creative just enough to be annoying, to me. The depth of field is just a bit too shallow, and the focal point is kind of off (again, just a little and just enough to annoy me.) But I’m sharing it here untouched. SOOC, as they say. (straight out of camera, I had to google it a few months ago)

But. I read that^ quote this morning in my book, and I immediately thought of this series of pictures I took while camping with my family last weekend. I had just woken up and come out of the tent. Kyle and Gemma were trying to get the fire started (yes, she helped) and my eyes were just adjusting to the morning light. I walked over to the picnic table and sat down, useless. Kyle said “I’ll get the coffee going.” Yes, please.

Kyle and Gemma went to gather more starter wood for the fire, and I was left there staring at the coffee, waiting, very patiently to hear that clicking from the percolator. And then I see the steam. I’m literally mesmerized (not a difficult state for me to fall into before I’ve had my coffee). It’s beautiful. Like cigarette smoke. Like smoke from a pipe smoker’s mouth. Like what comes out when I breathe at night in Colorado. Then I remember my new lens.

I go to the car (I won’t say “dash” or “run” because that would be a lie) to get the camera. By the time I get back it’s really steaming. I start to take pictures, adjusting and readjusting. F-stop down, iso down, shutterspeed up. F-stop up, iso up, shutterspeed down. It wasn’t urgent, just familiar…comforting even. To hear the click of the shutter, like every second going by. I loved these moments of solitude with my camera. It was therapy.

And I had forgotten that until I read this quote this morning. Gosh that winter sunrise was beautiful. I’m thankful to be reminded.

“When the light makes you stop and pause, chase it…”

I think that chasing the light holds a deeper meaning for me. How could it not? It’s a light I’ve been digging for. One that I’ve known is in there somewhere covered up with all the dirt. Covered in grime. Covered in lies.  The pursuit of light is different for everyone. And it is so difficult to put the desire for it into words. But just a glimpse of it brings tears to my eyes, and peace in my mind. It speaks to me on a level outside of words. On a level of musical notes of joy, and groans full of depth.

The last 6 months have been full of groans. Of searching. Digging. Waiting on the light to return. To shine undeniably. And the more I dig, the deeper I get. Sometimes digging in a spot that’s so obviously wrong it’s laughable. It’s so funny how you think you’re digging in the right place until you find what you’re looking for, and it’s somehow less than you thought. Less than light. It’s dark.

What I’ve known this light to be in the past is Jesus, and I can’t deny Him now.  I can’t understand Him. I can’t know what His full intentions or plans are. I can’t know that tomorrow won’t hold the same depth of sorrow I’ve lived in before. But I can know and recognize the peace He brings. The peace he has brought me this morning. And for that I am grateful. For this small moment of truth, I am grateful.

Maybe for the first time in a long time, I’m digging in the right spot.

Bring it 2011.

the tanks

 

I grew up in West Texas, in a very small town dependent on a few things…

1. gossip.

2. the art of blowing said gossip inexplicably out of proportion. seriously…inexplicably.

3. football

4. the labor of hardworking Hispanic Americans.

5. right wing republican religious hypocrites.

wait….where was I going with this?

…..oh, right.

6. cotton, and similar agricultural crops.

7. in accordance with #6, rain.

The Fall is a beautiful time of year in West Texas. If the weather has been kind to the cotton crops, white balls of luxuriously soft, GMO cotton will blanket a field, creating a beautifully picturesque landscape. This is the time of year that I’m always reminded I never appreciated how far I could see standing out and looking at one of those cotton fields and what a beautiful thing that was, and still is. Various farm equipment can be expected on the roads in town, littering cotton seed along behind them. The few trees that grow there are losing leaves, and pecans are falling in a few lucky yards. The first frost always comes before it’s expected. But the best thing is the nights. See there are no hills, trees, or tall buildings to stop the cold northern air from blowing in. And as a result it gets stinking cold. And I love those nights. Those cold, cold, West Texas nights.

In fields scattered all over Dawson County are these giant irrigation tanks that hold water for the crops. Because when it rains in West Texas, it does not pour. And those farmer folk have gotten smart about how they store their free water. On every set of these tanks there is a stairwell, and a catwalk. Well doesn’t that just scream “CLIMB ME!!!!!” to you?? Well let me tell you, it does to me. And it does to my friends as well.

And climb them we did. On those cooooold Fall/Winter nights in West Texas. We would load up my camaro with sweatshirts and blankets and disposable cameras, and head out to the tanks. We would climb the tanks and walk out onto the top of one of them, lay down some blankets and lay down.

And if you want to know why we did this, then you have never seen a night sky in West Texas in the Fall. Come to that, you have probably never seen a night sky in West Texas, ever.

The stars….ohhhhh, the stars.  My soul feels a peace just from the memory of them. The endlessness. The vastness. The great incomprehensible unknowable unknown. I got swallowed up in it. Frequently.

Tonight there was a beautiful moon in Temple, Texas. I know because at first I saw it as a reflection in my dashboard. That’s how you know it’s good, when you see it’s reflection first. I knew I had to pull over and get out to look at it. But it’s almost sad to look at the sky here. To know there is so much of it I can’t see. Tonight when I was pondering this sad fact, I was taken back to the tanks. I had many, many, many good conversations on those tanks. Talks about God and Heaven and Hell…talks of young love and like…about hate and sex and everything that makes us human. But tonight I was taken back to a conversation I had with my best friend. It was about happiness…or really the lack of happiness. And how we felt so out of place and yet so at home in our small little town, a very conflicted little existence we lived. But we knew God had placed us there for a reason. And there was the proof right in front of our eyes. Those stars. Those heavenly bodies of light and milky way. They spoke to us of the years ahead. Of dreams of love and changing the world. Of hope. Newness. Excitement. Life.

And now years later I look up at those stars and I feel the weight of all my dreams unrealized. I feel the grief of all the things I can’t accept will never happen. And I struggle with whether this is maturity speaking to me, telling me “Now Jade, life doesn’t always give you everything you thought it would when you were a kid. Tanks are for kids. Grow up. This small section of sky you see now, that’s the real world…this is your world.” It brings a deep, deep sadness.  I haven’t learned how to fight that sadness yet…

Yet.

Because you see, I have this knowledge on a piece of paper that God has not forgotten me and my dreams. I have the knowledge that there will once again be a time when I look up at those stars and feel inspiration. I will feel inspiration down deep in my stomach-y soul region. This grief will birth something new. Something unexpected. Something I haven’t been able to name yet. Something like…hope. Or maybe…newness. Or maybe…excitement. Or maybe…life.

This a season where I feel trapped in my tiny patch of sky. And I hate it now. But I know I will be grateful I was here. Someday when I return to the tanks. When I get swallowed up with what the future holds once again.

I’m so excited to get there.

the use of fear

Today I learned that I’m afraid.

Afraid of my doubt. My dreams. My failure. My trying to be something or have something of my own.

“It’s good that you recognize that you’re weak. It’s good that you understand that because so many people forget that we are weak and in need of a Savior. They think they are strong and can make it on their own. You know you’re weak. But it doesn’t stop there. You don’t have to fully understand God to trust Him. No one fully understands God. You don’t have to fully understand Him to draw strength from Him. ‘Lean not on your own understanding…’ But you should praise Him. God came to save the brokenhearted, and that’s you. That’s you right now. You praise Him, because He loves you in your doubt, He loves you in your fear. God is big enough to handle that. Acknowledge Him in the depth of despair, and He will make your paths straight.”

I recognize that God uses sadness. God uses sadness in some way. He uses fear. He uses doubt. He reconciles all things to Himself.

I can’t reconcile my self with myself. But…I want to trust Him, I do.

My fear overcomes me. My doubt overcomes me.

I am tired of being overcome by these things. I am ready to be overcome with hope and gladness. With joy and thanksgiving.

He has proven over and over again that He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. I find Truth in this.

Speak to me, hear me Father. Find me in this depth.

116th psalm

¹ I love the LORD, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.
² Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live.

³ The cords of death entangled me,
the anguish of the grave came over me;
I was overcome by distress and sorrow.
⁴ Then I called on the name of the LORD:
“LORD, save me!”

⁵ The LORD is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.
⁶ The LORD protects the unwary;
when I was brought low, he saved me.

⁷ Return to your rest, my soul,
for the LORD has been good to you.

⁸ For you, LORD, have delivered me from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
⁹ that I may walk before the LORD
in the land of the living.

¹⁰ I trusted in the LORD when I said,
“I am greatly afflicted”;
¹¹ in my alarm I said,
“Everyone is a liar.”

¹² What shall I return to the LORD
for all his goodness to me?

¹³ I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the LORD.
¹⁴ I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people.

¹⁵ Precious in the sight of the LORD
is the death of his faithful servants.
¹⁶ Truly I am your servant, LORD;
I serve you just as my mother did;
you have freed me from my chains.

¹⁷ I will sacrifice a thank offering to you
and call on the name of the LORD.
¹⁸ I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people,
¹⁹ in the courts of the house of the LORD—
in your midst, Jerusalem.

Praise the LORD.

praise the Lord.

 

***p.s. a beautiful and wonderful friend moved away from me today. i will miss her every day, but i am so excited she is becoming the farm girl she has dreamed of being! you are beautiful and inspiring m, i can’t wait to see you again.

mmmm….

This still inspires something in me. I know that I need to watch the movie it came from. It’s called En Kärlekshistoria. Or, in Englsih, A Swedish Love Story.

The boy in this picture is 15 and the girl is 14.

I remember.

 

a girl can dream

I want to be a photographer. What do you think of this logo?

Gemma 10-10-10