Cardstock to make cards from scratch: $5

Colored pencils, pens and stickers to decorate cards: $15

Postage to overnight the cards to the messenger: $45

A chance to send hope notes to the girls of Rwanda: priceless

As many of you know, our lovely Jen is leaving to take her sweet self, her zines, blank journals, pens, hearts, these handwritten hope notes and a film to share with the girls of Rwanda. Girls who need encouragement and support more than we can ever imagine.

For those of us who remain here while Jen single handedly delivers these messages (indeed, she is a superhero of hope), the photos and videos that she captures over there will be the only way we can truly share the trip with her. But beyond that, her photographs will serve as the only recent record that one mother has of her daughters. Imagine how it would feel to see a photo of your child after 2 years of not seeing any. Two years. And then comes a day when a rare and beautiful gift is handed to you through one photograph. A single image that would surely take any mother’s breath away.

Simple truths like this remind me that when we hold our cameras, we hold incredible power. How lucky are we to shoot photo after photo of our own children, of friends and family. Each image a gift. A gift that is indeed priceless.

As we send our sister off on the journey of a lifetime, let’s honor her with links to our own priceless photographs, shall we? It’ll be our little way of showing her our Shutter Sisters support.

Safe travels Jen, we will all be eagerly awaiting stories and photos. Lots and lots of glorious, priceless photos.

Forgive our hiccup today...this post got deleted on accident-things happen-but i know a lot of you commented and left links and we apologize but it seems we lost those too! Rats. Note to self-it IS really smart to write posts in a word document before getting them up on your blog. Whew.

One of my favorite magazines of all time is Wondertime. Have you seen it? It still surprises me when people haven’t. I’ve had a subscription since the minute I discovered it. The visual sensibilities are off the charts cool. Photography.to.die.for. The perfect mix of art and everyday; a visual marriage that particularly speaks to me. And then there’s the content. With contributing editors like Catherine Newman and Brett Paesel (love and love) and articles from women like Alice Bradley (more love) what, I ask you, is not to like?

But even with all this periodical alchemy, when I get the magazine each month I go straight to the very back page…first. See, they end the issue with a photograph (actually usually a diptych) titled no comment. It’s usually a coupling that speaks so poignantly of childhood in that perfect, I laughed, I cried kind of way that no words are necessary. It’s great.

I have only given you all of this background to say that now and again if you come across a post here at Shutter Sisters called no comment (and if we’re being true to the phrase, using only a photo and no words) you’ll know where the inspiration came from.

And if any of you are so inclined to share your own no comment photos, by all means, show us what you’ve got. And if you enter them our Flickr pool and tag them “no comment” you never know when one might pop up on a post (with your permission of course). Sometimes a good image—or two—says more than any words can say.

Am I the only one that goes through phases—or maybe more appropriately, obsessions—in my photographic inclinations? A particular angle of interest, recurring subject matter or tiny detail of something specific that for one reason or another draws you in and urges you to recognize them? I’ve been in and out of different phases like this ever since I really got into photography. Some of my past focal fixations have included grain, blur, and toys. And don’t get me started on my passion for the blossoms and blooms that have not only piqued my interest but have held me and my camera captive for the last few months.

When it comes to capturing images of the details of my children, obsession is a mild term. With each passing day there seems to be something perfectly endearing to turn my camera toward. Right now, I’m all about my youngest daughter’s hair—her straggly, stringy, swishing, swooping, swinging hair. I am spellbound by the way it frames her face, wispy blonde strands getting caught up in her dark lashes, brushing her flushed cheeks. My urchin princess. I even cut it myself for fear some insensitive hair dresser might rob me of my photo fetish. See. I told you. I'm obsessed.

And you? I’m curious as to what you have been unable to keep your lens away from. Do you have a photo flavor of the month? Come on, show us your obsessions—we’re all friends here.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about mortality. Namely, my own. I’m not going to get morbid and depressing about it, I promise. But since my mind has been wandering amidst the what-ifs, I’ve decided to try being quiet with these inevitable thoughts (and yes, fears) and listen to what the angels are saying. You know, the ones that gently glide by beckoning the big questions;

Are you doing what’s important? Are you living your best life? Are you spending time on what matters most?

I think we would all like to answer yes but sometimes we just aren’t doing the things that matter, as we are clouded by daily demands. It’s the way it goes. But then there are the reminders that lift us from our fog, stories that stir our souls awake, or circumstances and situations that bring the big picture back into focus.

Jen Balantine’s question has been ringing in my ears and instead of leaving my list on paper, I’ve decided to begin to make a dent in it. I want to make a deliberate schedule to fit in the things that matter most; the things that I would do if I had only a few months to live. I plan on making a priority getting all the wonderful photos and stories of my children’s lives off of the computer and organized and into books and memory boxes. I want to create for my girls something tangible to hold onto, to look through, to remind them of their life growing up in our family. Growing up with me. I want them to know (even beyond the knowing that they will always carry with them) that I was here, that I am here, in living color. Everyday. Giving baths, braiding hair, sewing buttons on pants, dancing in the living room, making projects and school lunches, going on field trips and adventure walks and taking pictures. I plan to take time out to do the things I want to do…for me and for them. I’m considering it my date night with destiny. As simple as it may seem, this is what I would do if I knew I only had a few months to live so, I’m going to start doing it now. And I know I’m going to love doing it.

How about you? What would you do? And are you willing to start doing it now?

Thanks to all of you who offered hope through your beautiful images for the auction. The proceeds will be helping Jen and her son as she  faces days ahead that seem to keep getting tougher for her. The auction is up and running so head over and bid on your favorite things. Be sure to click on the item you have your eye on to get more info on the object or photo and the person behind it. It makes it that much more special. Thanks again. You are all incredible.

I think this is quite possibly a blog crime, but I have opted today not to write a new post but instead, encourage you to read a post I wrote back in December. Gasp.

See, us Sisters wrote posts for this blog before we officially launched so there are some treasures back there in the archives that have barely seen the light of day. That plus this being Earth Day and all, makes me feel OK about recycling.

So, why this particular post? I just think that all sisters of the shutter can use a little encouragement now and again, to keep on keepin’ on; vigilant family historians, cameras at the ready, tirelessly lugging around the extra weight of the glass/plastic/metal that is our creative tool, even amidst the criticism of others—

When are you going to put that camera down?

Mom! No more pictures! 

You’re not taking your camera, are you?

Today, I want all of us to remember that our work as Shutter Sisters IS significant.  Can I get an amen?