I can do SOMEthing.

I can't sleep again. This time it's a different book: "It's not ok with me." I'm only 4 chapters in and I've been crying my eyes out, thinking about some kids a zillion miles away who have no idea I'm thinking about them. They don't know that anyone cares about them. They're sleeping in their own filth. 

My daughter peed in her bed and boy, was she upset. I cleaned her up immediately changed her clothes,  selecting from several dozen. Now I can't help but think of those who don't even have a hole, much less plumbing or water. And for those who have clothes, have probably never been changed and certainly not properly cleaned. Their parents aren't there to clean them up or listen to them or protect them because they've died from a %100 preventable disease. This is real. It's not a story. It's not just a few people. There's thousands. Tens and hundreds of thousands. 

Meanwhile, I have three pillows to sleep on. 

I feel nauseous. I can't look at these pillows. 

I'm nauseated by their situation and my lack of concern. I'm nauseated by my own opulence. 

Why do I have all this when they have nothing? 

I'm going to sell everything I have. It may not get me "much," but with the money I'm going to sponsor as many kids as I can. I'll keep what I need to function in this society. A few clothes, a little make up and soap, and the things I use everyday. I'll keep ONE pillow. And I'm not trying to start a fight with my husband, so I'll keep our bed frame, lol. I have curtains that hang on the wall for no other purpose than to look pretty. They can repurpose themselves to feed a hungry belly. I have hair straighteners and clothes and jewelry and throw pillows that my husband hates anyway and books and movies and decorative vases and apothecaries and wrapping paper and candles and craft supplies and lord knows I have shoes. This stuff just sits here, filling up drawers and closets and taking up space. I hardly use it. I don't care about it. What I DO care about is that a baby is on the street, covering up with scraps of garbage to stay warm. Even if its not forever that I can take care of them and even if its from a distance, even if its only a handful of kids I can help, I can do something. 

This has been a long time coming. Tonight jake laughed that it reminded him of me two years ago when I wanted to do this and didn't. How many hungry, cold nights went by that didn't have to? What have I been doing in the meantime? Why do I have so much and they have so little? How can I allow this to happen and at the same time, spring out of bed when my baby cries? These kids are just like mine and I know I would even sell myself to feed my babies.

I don't love my neighbor as myself. 

This has been a long time coming and I can't wait to see their pictures. I want to hang them on my fridge and look at them and love them everyday. Even if its a million miles away, someone has to love them. I can't wait. I can do something. 

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul? (Matthew 16:24-26 NLT)

Is any of my stuff worth more than a life? 

Coffee is keeping me up at night.

These thoughts are keeping me awake. 

I spent a summer doing humanitarian work in Peru. I scrimped and saved and even accepted donations. But was I more useful while I was there than the thousands I spent getting there could have been in the hands of those who were already there? Oh, but I built relationships. That makes an eternal difference. Those who are working already in Huancayo have already built relationships, lasting ones. They know the needs of the children and families there and quite frankly, everything in South America is much cheaper there than I could buy it here (not to mention shipping costs). I have known this since I left. Why am I not scrimping and saving now to send money to them? Or to anyone? My "mission" is over. I've "served" and now it's only something I talk about to make people think I'm altruistic or supernaturally caring and loving. "I went all the way to Peru to love on people. Look at me." 

I remember watching an episode of "Lifestlyes of the Rich and Famous" and seeing that J-lo spends 40k per year on her face cream. I can still see the swirling purple tubs with dollar sign graphics dancing around them. I remember feeling disgusted with her and thinking, "If she would just have some compassion and be slightly inconvenienced by doing without her face cream, she could send me to college and change my life." 

The blood of African children is saying the same thing to me. If I could be ever so slightly inconvenienced by not drinking a cup of coffee (or sometimes two) every morning, I could send $15 a month to world vision or compassion international keep someone alive.

 ALIVE.

 I could make the difference between life and death. This isn't about adding $15 to my bottom line of expenses and then continuing to enjoy my usual luxuries until I forget about those in need. I need to sacrifice a little for this. I need to remember that it's not about me. I need to have compassion as I go through my usual morning routine or through my day. 

Ha! Doing without a cup of coffee is sacrifice?? I am so spoiled. After three days without it, I will probably not even notice it much. Not to mention the fact that it is hardly necessary to my diet. That can barely be called a sacrifice, but I will start there.

So that's where I'm at when it comes to physical poverty. But there is another real and present danger among us: spiritual poverty. Though "undeveloped" (what a terribly inaccurate word to use) nations have real physical poverties, are they spiritually poor? Yes, probably. More than the US? More than where I am?  

No doubt I live in one of the (if not, the single most) spiritual depraved nations in the world (if not, the history of the world). What am I doing here? 

I want to go where coffee doesn't matter and neither do appearances or iPhones or chlorine free diapers. It would be easier there. 

Bloom where you are planted. 

Each of you should continue to live in whatever situation the Lord has placed you, and remain as you were when God first called you. This is my rule for all the churches. (1 Corinthians 7:17 NLT)

How convenient to me as a Christian that I'm planted in a field ready for working! How can I not take advantage of this opportunity!? 

I'm thinking of the great commission. When Jesus said to "go into all the earth," he was physically in Jerusalem. My American hometown, my backyard, is part of this vast expanse of "all the earth." Was Jesus giving me a command to travel or telling me to bloom?

Though the African blood of many is crying out to me, a broken heart across the street is calling too. A young girl who keeps calling me her mentor (the poor thing) is calling too. A mother who needs grace is calling me. A husband who needs encouragement and a daughter who needs my patience when answering her unanswerable questions like "Why?" and "Did god make cows or stop signs first?" is calling for my action. Another daughter who needs me lay on the floor and forget about my to-do list is calling me. A girl in my newsfeed who needs acceptance is crying out. A woman who made a mistake many years ago and is calling my office to find healing is in my American life for a reason. 

These spiritual needs are pressing, and to quote a sermon I recently heard, "Jesus always cared more about the spiritual than the physical." 

I don't want to find the almost expired items in my pantry and call it helping the food bank. I don't want to haul off the rumpled, unlaundered mess of clothes in the back of my closet and fool myself into thinking I'm meeting some fat American's needs. America's needs are mainly spiritual, not physical. 

In this season, I will sacrifice my wants and luxuries, starting with my daily brew. I will be a good steward of what is given to me. I will send my physical money to where it is needed, to the other "ends of the earth:" to those who need my money more than my silly, god-complex, American personality. And I will spiritually serve here, in this rich American soil where I was planted. I don't have to go all the way to Peru to love on people.  I will make a difference in the lives of the people put in my life by the God of the universe. I will connect with them on their level and meet their needs with my silly American personality. I will invite the heart across the street over for a cup of ...well,  coffee probably.  

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be 

my witnesses, telling people about me everywhere—in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8 NLT)

In Jerusalem, their backyard, first. 

A cup of coffee first. 

Oh Jesus, be first and foremost in my life!

 

A Glimpse of Heaven/Evangeline Chesney Newborn Portraits

 

 

 

Hmmm.... I don't really have anything poignant to say, except that this sweet family reminded me of when Jake and I became a family of three. I guess I've been thinking about that time a little more since I'm pregnant again, and I've been really looking forward to those late night feedings when the house is so quiet and it's just me and a little itty bitty baby, sleepily falling more in love with my husband as I watch him stare in wonder at such a new little thing, and discovering how Audrey will interact with the new baby. I can't wait to see them love on each other!

I thought it might be a little selfish to start thinking about my own family as I'm writing a post about someone else's family, but I think it's a wonderful thing that parents can all relate in this way. It's a time filled with emotions that sticks in every parent's mind. I love that we as humans have common experiences and emotions that bring us together: I mean, once you discover that someone else is a parent too, you have a new way of understanding each other and you know that other person has a new way of understanding life in general. It's almost like being in a special club. I think that in heaven we'll all know the commonalities that we share and we'll all be bonded in a special way.

Seeing new parents is a little glimpse of heaven.

 

Congratulations John Mark and Faith! Welcome to the club! :)



love the sun flare!

 

Welcome to the world, beautiful Evangeline!

 

Silly bubble blowing girl! What a personality already!

The Butlers and Life Groups

This little cutie is always so much fun to photograph. And she just turned two!

So dainty!

 

What a great little supermodel pose!

 This family goes to my church too and we spent a little time talking about something our church calls "life groups." We get together, share a meal and have a little Sunday school bible study time. They put emphasis on the "life" part, and we all make an effort to "do life together" sit sounds cheesy when I explain it, but it's actually pretty neat. I have a few really great friends that have been there over the years, plenty of good friends that I'm enjoying getting to know better and some acquaintances sprinkled in here and there, but the people I've been in life group with seem to fit in a different category. When you sit around and talk about the things God's teaching you, bringing you through and dealing with you about, there's a deeper connection and bond that forms. We dont' have to talk about our common interests or be updated on each and every detail in each other's lives to be connected. I think that's what the bible is talking about when it says "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:35 emphasis added.) I love my life group and my church family!

Happy 20th anniversary you two!

Scenic City Boot Camp

Most of my sessions are portraits, and I was pretty excited to do something so different! Scenic City Boot Camp asked me to come in and photograph a boot camp class and a Zumba class. After watching people flip huge tires, do squat, sprints and even crunches with weights on their chests, I was feeling a little on the fat and lazy side.

 

 I told totally used the "but I'm pregnant!" excuse, but that usually isn't as convincing when you're just telling yourself. And to top it off, all these people were enjoying it and smiling after their workouts! Just look at those happy faces!

 

Well, I certainly got motivated! What do you guys do be healthy? What motivates you and how do you stay motivated?

Body Image

I was photographing this senior beauty and saw some movement in a nearby building. Boys. Staring. Of course. At first, I thought it was pretty funny. And it was.

 Then I started thinking about modesty. Not because she was being immodest -not in the least- but because sometimes as women, we won’t even notice how our bodies affect men, especially those who are peeking out of buildings in the background.  It’s funny because in my mind, which is constantly bombarded with advertisements shamelessly trying to sell products (you know the ones I’m talking about!), I often don’t measure up.  I think most men can easily see past the "sexy" of a supermodel ad. They're not so easily fooled. But not women: we resort to all sorts of things. I know plenty who have starved themselves, had plastic surgery, are shy with their husbands in the bedroom, or simply nitpick any and every part of their bodies. I'm certainly not excluded. I don’t like this or that part of my body, but yet somehow, I’m not paying enough attention to cover it up.

Yesterday, at church -yep, at church, the very place where I would hope a man could be safe from the temptation of ogling scantily clad women- I stuck my lip gloss into my “secret pocket,” commonly known as a bra. Ladies, you’re welcome for that tip. I didn’t notice that my shirt started slipping a little lower than I (and probably my husband) would have liked. But my two year old daughter did, and she grabbed my lip gloss out of my cleavage in front of everyone while I just sat there realizing that my boobs were halfway out. I don’t pay enough attention to modesty. Embarrasing.  

I think it’s a great trick of the devil to make women not only misunderstand the power of their femininity (to not even notice that our boobies may be causing some distraction somewhere), but to actually think the opposite and find their bodies unsightly -whether it be boobies, booties, feet, hair, eyelashes or elbows. 

So, now I’ve got two messed up and worldly ideas, immodesty and poor body image, going on in the same brain. Oh boy.

I love in scripture when Jesus is confronted with an A or B question and He gives a C answer that totally surpasses all the other options. (Matthew 22:23-33, Mark 12:13-17) So what’s the third option for how we think about our bodies and ourselves?  What does God want us to think about our bodies? How does He feel about them?  What do you guys think?

Hannah, I hope you know how beautiful you are! Congratulations!

Legacy

Legacy isn’t something I thought much about until I reached adulthood, or maybe it was parenthood that did it for me. Actually, come to think of it, I think parenthood gave way to my grand entrance into adulthood… that’s another story. Anyway, I’m nearing my big honking late twenties in a couple of months and I want to know that my life has some meaning. Of course, my ultimate purpose is always to bring glory to God, to know Him and to love Him, but what about my meaning to this world? What am I leaving and teaching my children? What will they pass down to their children? How will that affect the all people they’ll work with, study with, and play with? What exactly will I leave this world?  

This couple, while celebrating their 50^th wedding anniversary, obviously is teaching their children that they’ve valued their marriage, along with commitment, perseverance, and dedication.  From the hour I spent with the family, I think they all must have learned a little something about fellowship, selflessness and community. All twelve people were staying in a house together and I didn’t hear any bickering. Not even close. That takes some selflessness! I’m sure I don’t know everything that was passed on in the Harrison family, but I’m glad it got me thinking about what’s being passed on, taught and valued in mine.

Also, it seems that the Harrisons also valued photography, from the past and the present. That makes them a-ok in my book! I love that they had this wedding photograph for fifty years!