It’s wild to think that just a few weeks remain in the summer of 2020, one that we’ll never forget. We are so lucky to be able to live by the beach, so that even in the “Pandemic Summer,” we can still be outside, socially distance, and allow ourselves to enjoy time as a family. Our friends reached out and asked me to document a Saturday morning with them and their son, who just turned two. As August is, the weather looked iffy on this particular day, but we decided to take a chance. When I arrived at their house, I could hear their son babbling on the monitor and as soon as they got him out of his crib, he was ready to play, read, eat his breakfast, wander outside with his dad (and wave to the passing boats!), ride on a bike with his mom, watch the bulldozers clean up the beach, and splash in the waves. It’s been a summer to remember, one worth documenting.
The pandemic has caused a whole lot of upheaval in every single human being’s earthy existence, adjusting all of our expectations, plans, and routines, throwing the world into chaos and shifting our worries from small things to things that seemed impossibly big and terrifying. And inside of that, many couples have been forced to make difficult decisions around the most IMPORTANT day of their lives: a wedding. Way back before Covid-19 was even a word in the lexicon of our current everyday world, Madison + Zach asked me to photograph their wedding set for May. Madison is a girl with the biggest heart, a talent for creating beauty with her hands at embroidery, and leading my boys on many an adventure and making movies with them over one magical summer when she was their babysitter (many of which involved her playing several roles, most of which involved drawn on mustaches with magic marker) while Zach is a talented musician and graphic designer. I knew their wedding would be creative, intimate, and personal, but I could never imaged at our first conversation how those three things would be critical to pulling off a wedding in a pandemic and quarantine. At the time of their wedding, our state was limiting in person gatherings to just 10 people, which ended up including the bride and groom and their immediate families (the ceremony was performed by her dad, a Pastor). While 2020 hasn’t handed us the greatest lot, the technology of today allowed Zach and Madison to livestream their wedding t
o their family and friends, many of whom were several states away. And at the end of the night, cars lined up as a “receiving line” of sorts to throw rice, hand flowers and gifts, and even dance at a distance, while cupcakes were handed out to their “guests.” It was hard for me to hold back tears at their ceremony, not only because I know and adore these two people, but because of how they made this day about one thing: a commitment to one another in love, despite the circumstances. And that is the most beautiful thing of all.
Thank you so much, Madison and Zach for including me in your day!! Click here to find Madison on Etsy and Instagram, and Zach’s music, design, and Instagram.
Three weeks ago, we moved. We sold a house we loved, one we lived in for 13 years and the only home our boys can ever remember. A house full of memories of holidays, family, firsts (first steps! first days of school! first lost tooth!), and over time, it became a place of lasts. Last time in car seats, last time I carried my boys to their beds, and now, the last of elementary school. It’s been 13 beautiful years and some really (REALLY) tough growing pains happened in between these walls. I wouldn’t change them for anything, and so it has felt so incredibly bittersweet saying goodbye to one chapter and beginning another. Our new house is less than half the size. We just felt like it was time to simplify, downsize, and minimize our possessions . . . because once I start to sort through all the crap accumulated in a house over 13 years of life, it became clear that we owned too many things, held onto too many preschool craft projects, and needed to reduce our tendency to accumulate rather than curate what we loved and things that were most important.
With our oldest heading to high school next year and our boys being at the point where they are more and more independent every day, it felt like this huge shift in our life. Then, as we were trying to sell our house, the pandemic hit. Suddenly, our house plans seemed to be falling through our hands. Fortunately, a lovely family (with three girls!) fell in love with our house. I know it sounds silly, but I had been praying for the family who bought our house more than six months prior to the actual closing. I couldn’t imagine a better family to create their own memories in the house I have loved so much.
It was hard to leave, and my boys were as sentimental about it as I was. So on the day when the moving truck came (and Dave had to work) it felt extra bittersweet, like a lump in my throat pushing back a good cry as I saw the rooms emptied out of the life we had put into it. It felt empty and so sad. The first night in the new house, I just kept thinking I wish I was home and panicked that we made the wrong decision. But a few days later, when we filled our new bookcases with all of the books and treasures we love so much, Jackson said, Wow, it feels like ours now because a house is just a house, but home is where your treasures are.
Photo as part of personal project, “No such thing as other people’s children”
I have been largely silent on my website and on social media (at least for my business) since the beginning of quarantine. I have jokingly quoted “surviving, not thriving” on describing my own mental health during the pandemic and the social justice unrest that has followed, but it’s not far from the truth. In the beginning of the quarantine, I had visions of myself being productive, as I usually churn out a lot of work even in the midst of our busy schedule. I’ve always made time to shoot and document my life in a way that feels natural. But none of this was natural, and was deeply unsettling in so many ways. For all of us, quarantine and isolation made us confront issues in our lives, whether they are family dynamics and relationships, our obsession with over-scheduling, or coming to terms with the fact that as much as we control our lives, we have very little control of so many things in the world around us. And that, my friends, is deeply disturbing.
Within the first week of distance learning, I was quickly reminded of how the two years that I homeschooled my son were two of the most challenging years of my life. Instead of being productive, I binged watched garbage like Tiger King and burned through a bunch of books faster than they could be delivered from Amazon Prime. And mind you, not Oprah’s Book Club type books (although, after about a month into quarantine, a few thought provoking ones got thrown in there . . . which I will share later). When our state went into lockdown, we anticipated having about a month left of living in our house. Our new house was on track to be finished by the end of April, and our house was still on the market. There were so many loose ends to tie up. My husband, an anesthesiologist, was facing being on the front lines of the pandemic, which looked like a war zone in New York City, just a two hour drive away. Suddenly, I wasn’t worried about whether we would be able to sell our house and move, I was worried that someone I love might die, that my husband would be infected, and making disaster plans to quarantine him in our home if he did. How foolish we are to think that we have any real control over anything at all.
Surviving, not thriving.
In 8 weeks of total isolation, I did not cry. I did not crack. And then I heard about Ahmaud Arbery. And George Floyd. And Breonna Taylor. And now, Elijah McClain. I have been forced to confront some serious issues in my own heart, ones that have made me feel guilty and ashamed. But this is not about my feelings. This is about confronting some really ugly things inside of myself. Because, at the end of the day, that IS one of the few things I have control over. I also have a responsibility of being the mother of three white sons, who were all born with an ENORMOUS amount of privilege, white and otherwise, I have to learn for myself and be the ally that the world needs so that my sons can become them as well. We all know that won’t be taught in schools. More than anything, I want them to be mentally and emotionally flexible, to have the ability to say “I am wrong, I need to learn, and I will work to do better.” White fragility is a real thing, and yes, it’s completely uncomfortable to dig into an ugliness inside of ourselves that we want to deny is there. But, as I have told my boys from the time they were little, “You are the thinker of your thoughts, the movers of your hands, the sayer of your words, and the decider of the things you see and hear.” We are in control of ourselves, and our awareness is essential for justice.
Here are some books that I have felt helpful in educating myself during quarantine . . . after I was finally motivated to do something productive (the kids’ books are ones we listened to on within the last year):
Books for Confronting White Privilege:
White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo
Know My Name: A Memoir by Chanel Miller
For Christians:
Postcards from Babylon: The Church In American Exhile by Brian Zahnd
Drop the Stones: When Love Reaches the Unlovable by Carlos A. Rodriguez
Books to read with kids/adolescents:
Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson
The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas
Jefferson’s Sons: A Founding Father’s Secret Children by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley
Let Me Hear a Rhyme by Tiffany D. Jackson
I am not perfect. I am not trying to be an example. What I am is sharing information that I believe has been helpful in navigating and confronting my own ignorance. My silence was a time of reflection, of learning, and growing. It’s time to do better.
Over the years, I’ve had the honor of photographing momentous occasions, like weddings and baptisms and birthdays, as well as ordinary days in the life of a family. Both momentous and ordinary occasions deserve to be documented in equal measure, both being beautiful in their own way. But what about an occasion that is both?? It all depends on perspective. On a Friday in February, two incredible people gave a baby boy something extraordinary: a name. This boy was chosen, loved, and adored through his birth, his journey through foster care, the completion of that journey through adoption, and wearing a new last name. For Nigel, it was a day spent with his older brother and four sisters, being adored by his parents, smiling at family and friends (who came from far and wide to celebrate) and playing with his Elmo toy. For his family, it was the official ceremony to welcome this baby into their family as their son.
If I could sum up this day in one word, it would be this: JOY. There were hugs, kisses, tears of joy, and laughter all wrapped up in this incredibly significant moment, only because of the love and work put into raising this child since he was born. What an incredible honor it was to see this village come together to celebrate this family and honor this special boy who brought them all here, on this sunny February day.