What Unites Us

I knew there would be differences – the color of our skin, the food we eat, the place we call home, the way we greet each other, our language, the way we bathe, how we travel, the sounds we hear at night... Traveling to Africa opened my eyes in a beautiful way. It made me appreciate our differences, but spending time with my new friends and listening to their stories reminded me that in more ways than not – at the core - we are essentially the same.

As I scanned through some of my photographs taken in the past several months for a little inspiration, the universal nature of this moment struck me. Birth. A miracle each of us has experienced. Love. A gift each of us has the capacity to give and receive. Peace. A sense of calm we all cherish.

Today, please share a moment in time or a collection of words to celebrate our sameness.

new

What's better than baby animals in the Spring? I love the fact that nature gives us one big POW of beauty all at once. Flowers are blooming, grass is growing, eggs are hatching and baby animals are entering the world. Everything feels fresh and the earth is ready to make it all grow. Now is the time to have your camera on you at ALL times. You never know when you might come across one of these beautiful new creatures.

Share your photos of spring "newness" no matter what it may be!

the gift of change

I had no idea how much my children would change my life. Of course, I knew things were going to be different but what surprised me is how deeply and profoundly I have been changed. The “old me” is still here. She is just much brighter, stronger and more generous than she ever was before.

Life changing experiences happen to everyone in all different ways, not just having children. Kids were the perfect change for me though. I was always pretty self-sufficient (translation: a little stoic and protected). What my children did for me was to show me how vulnerable I could really be. They forced me out of myself and that vulnerability opened me up in so many other ways. One of the surprising ways was with my photography.

I started taking photographs when I was in the tenth grade. It was love at first click I guess you could say. I never really photographed people though until I turned my lens onto my babies. That little turn of the lens completely changed the path of my life.

Now I photograph babies, families and bellies everyday. I get to witness the change that I experienced over and over again as it happens to the families that I photograph. Not only that, I sing out loud to my kids and have become adept at making all sorts of silly noises. I get teary at lots of little things and I reserve judgment just a little more. My heart is softer all the way around.

The short of it...I see spirit so much more clearly now. I see mine, as well as others, and it has been the greatest gift that I have ever been given.

What have you seen through your lens that has changed your heart? I hope that you will share some images from your heart and of your gifts with us today.

Picture and words courtesy of Guest Blogger / Honorary Sister, Houston based photographer extraordinaire Farrah Braniff. 

Not Afraid to Hope

We were sitting in a coffee shop talking about the upcoming birth of her second child, when I saw a sweet light start to fill her face.  Without giving it a second thought, I picked up my camera and started shooting.  Keep talking, I told her.  This is good.

We've been friends for so long, she didn't mind, and I clicked my heart away until I got this shot--the moment in the conversation where she told me her heart's deepest wish for this birth:  that this baby girl would be born in the water and gathered up immediately in her open arms.  Wouldn't that be great?  she told me.

I leaned over to show her the shot in the little screen and watched her face brighten some more.  This is what you look like, I said, when you're not afraid to hope.

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Do you have a photo that captures a conversation that you or the subject want to never forget?  Share your links and stories in the comments below.

Crap Shoot

I saw a photograph the other day of a baby. She was about eight months old, with round bubble gum cheeks that sat on her tiny shoulders. It reminded me of my own babies. Except suddenly I couldn't think of any pictures that I had of my own childrens' cheeks. The realization felt surprising and sad. And final. Like without the solidity of a photograph, the memory of those details was now precarious. What about their fat knuckles?  And their finger nails? And their belly buttons? Did I take pictures of these things? Or had I been putting it off until "tomorrow when I wasn't so busy". And now it was too late, and those memories feel like any minute they might fly away. Then, the more I thought, the more I realized I hadn't been putting off those pictures because I was busy. It was because I'd been viewing my life as a photographer. Instead of a mother. Person.Observer. We talk a lot around here about showing the messy, the real, the imperfect. And I believe in all of that. So that's why it surprised me to realize that I'd been looking at my whole LIFE as a photo session. If the light was bad, what's the point? If I was too far away, "it'll just sit on my hard drive as a snap shot anyway". YUCK. Sometimes we end up longing for those "bad" snap shots!

So, I'd been mulling this over. And Monday I had an opportunity to get over my self and my stupid perfectionism. My daughter, Annie, started kindergarten and my heart was in my throat. There were people, and flourescent lights. She was nervous, and I was missing her already. All I had was my little camera, and a horrible view of her in a far-away sea of children. But it was the last view I'd have before she walked into that Big Girl Hallway. My baby. The one I kept in the hospital bed with me because I wanted to watch her breathe. She used to fit into my kitchen sink. And her day belonged to me. Now I would have to rely on others to tell me about it. So many times I'd been counting down "until". But at that moment I would've given anything to be able to put her back into that sink for one more bath. Or to feel her sleeping on my shoulder.

I didn't want to lose that feeling. So I whipped out my little camera, zoomed in as close as I could, and got this. A shot that is so blurry you can't hardly make her out. But I love it because it reminds me of how fast everything goes by.

So, in honor of "letting go", I'm calling this "Crap Shoot" day. These are your shots that wouldn't necessarily win an award, but that help you save an important story. Please share yours with us! And then next week, stop by my blog on Thursday, because I think I'm going to make this a regular thing.

p.s. I don't consider this shot above as a "crap shot". It's just an image of one of my sweet clients. They're expecting their first child, and it reminded me about how fast it all goes. One day you're shining a flash light into a belly. The next, you're watching your baby waltz into kindergarten. So take pictures. In the end, all that matters is remembering.