I thought I’d been chasing light all these years

Charleston’s Waters | Captured with Contax 645 on Fujifilm Pro 400h 120mm film

I thought I’d been chasing light all these years—across oceans, along tree lined paths, in the garden, by the shore—but it turns out when I started to make a list of all my favorite things (which certainly includes moments and places filled with spectacular light) what I found I’ve really been searching for is a breath. ​​​​​​​​
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Moments that take your breath away and give it back in life for your soul. ​​​​​​​​
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A gorgeous vista. ​​​​​​​​
A garden in bloom. ​​​​​​​​
A smile to the eyes. ​​​​​​​​
A gentle breeze. ​​​​​​​​
A shimmering water view. ​​​​​​​​
Crisp winter sunlight. ​​​​​​​​
A lyrical poem.​​​​​​​​
Sabbath…​​​​​​​​
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A place and a moment to breathe, standing in awe of our Maker and Breath Giver. ​​​​​​​​
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“And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” Genesis 2:7​​​​​​​​

Here’s to 41! — Birthday Musings

Condado Vanderbilt | San Juan, Puerto Rico | February 2020 | Contax 645 , Fujifilm Pro 400h 120

A year ago on my 40th bday I was arriving home from a impromptu bday trip with my best friend to Puerto Rico, recovering from a miscarriage less than a month before and getting ready to start packing for a whirlwind Italy tour we were set to jet off for in a just over a week. Little did I know how much life was about to change. Needless to say my 41st trip around the sun was quite unexpected (as 2020 was for us all). And while the change is so surreal and at times heartbreaking this past year holds some of my very fondest memories. When the world shut down, trips were canceled, fertility treatments postponed and our lives became framed within the walls of our home.

But we were the lucky ones.
We found peace there.

Home was cozy and the slower pace meant more room to breathe. The halting of work meant the release of the pressure to hustle. We didn't set a morning alarm for months on end. We slept, like really caught up on possibly decades of lost sleep. And after 3 years of unexplained delayed fertility. We got pregnant. Naturally. We marveled in wonder at the thought of it all. I walked through nine quite lovely months of glowy pregnancy in a pandemic. We said "Happy New Year" from the comfort of our cozy couch and really meant it. And then 8 days into 2021 we met our Norah, our now 6 week old doll of a baby girl... And that's just the start of it.

40 was unexpectedly so good to me.

Today I say goodbye to that 40th year of life and welcome 41. Here's to all that it may hold, in the joyfully anticipated and unexpected too.

xoxo, Caroline

P.S. You can check out that 40th Bday Puerto Rico trip on my blog by {clicking here}.

The treasures it gifts at its shores…

Ormond Beach, FL | January 2020 | Contax 645 , Fujifilm Pro 400h 120

2020 began with so many hopes held lightly. Can we even remember those days? I took a weekend away with a sweet friend to dream and plan and breathe by the sea. But all I could think about was the baby growing inside me. When we first arrived I thought to myself, “this is your first trip to the sea little one.” I thought there would be many. The trip involved little actual actionable planning on my end (I blame the pregnancy brain). But the life giving conversation flowed freely as it usually does in the presence of said friend. We sat and talked about her own unexpected journey to parenthood, her two precious children carried in the womb of other women, the four she carried herself for a time that were called home to Jesus too early it seemed. The fragility of it all weighed upon me. No matter how many specialists we see, diet changes we make, yoga poses we do it’s Jesus that makes that call. Like the mystery of the vast ocean before us and inside us, the push and pull of the tides, the treasures it gifts at its shores. We journey here and dip our toes in its cool embrace, this ever moving sliver of a foamy line in the sand. We stare hazy eyed at something beyond what’s before us and breathe it in. I’d go here again and again and again to stand in awe in the familiar unknown just to know how small I am, how big He is and how the amount of trips we’ll take to the shore—for ourselves or the babies we’ll carry there—are numbered and known only by our Savior Jesus. What a comforting reminder these days and everyday that we don’t have to know the answers or the reason or the plan. We don’t have to ache to know what is held in the grasp of tomorrow when we know Jesus today.

xoxo, Caroline

A place of peace to call home...

A still life at home | March 2020 | Contax 645 , Fujifilm Pro 400h 120

“Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.” John 14:27

I’ve started photographing seemingly random things around my house when I need to use up the last few shots of a roll of film. Peaceful still life’s from home. And I have to say these little treasures I’ve collected have been some of my favorites. Although I much prefer the company of people (extrovert over here) in these unknown times with talks of pandemics and quarantines I’m thankful to have a place of peace to call home. Not just in my house with restful, quiet scenes like this one atop my in-home office/sunroom bookcase but also in the arms of my Savior who calls us weary and burdened souls to come to Him and find rest anywhere, anytime.

xoxo, Caroline

Postponed Parenthood...

Last week my plan was to be wrapping up some photo work, finalizing my packing and hitting the skies to Italy. We’d planned to join the Christian Travel Studies Program tour following in the steps of Paul. I had plans to introduce my husband to the country I’ve fallen in love with over the years. We planned to gorge on pasta and pizza and all the good, fresh Italian veggies. And we’d planned to get in a few extra fun excursions along the way including a day trip to the Amalfi coast where I stood awestruck exactly 20 years and half a lifetime ago proclaiming it my favorite place on the planet. / “We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.” Proverbs 16:9 / The Lord (and the Coronavirus) had other plans and our trip has been postponed, which honestly is a relief amidst all the Coronavirus unknown and quarantines these days. Rearranged plans, flight waivers and tour vouchers are a small thing and while they maybe disappointing and totally unexpected they come as no surprise at all to our Lord. Nothing is a surprise to Him. Which is the biggest relief all around especially in those harder "postponements" we’ve been walking these days. This season has been a difficult road of postponements and heartbreak all at once...

"What I tell you in the darkness, speak in the light..." Matthew 10:27

Today we are standing in the fragile light of postponed parenthood. My husband and I have been walking in a 3 year long journey of delayed fertility. Then on this past Christmas morning our world's changed with a faint pink line on a pregnancy test. We were finally parents and we walked into the new year and new decade carrying our child, our future family and our hopes fulfilled. That fragile joy of the first trimester filled our every moment of every day. Then just at the end of January we got the news no new parents want to hear. We were losing our baby. Less than a week later our precious first baby slipped from our earthly embrace and into the arms of our Savior. Parenthood postponed.

Somewhere in the midst of all of that I turned 40 you guys. What was supposed to be a bday and pregnancy announcement (I may have already had the wording all worked out with something along the lines of “the best bday gift is coming Sept. 2020”) instead the celebration was something with a little less fanfare surrounded by my nearest and dearest and a few oversized balloons. The big 4-0 launches me into a new decade and into an entirely new stats bracket for fertility. Which I can only laugh at. The Lord has done crazier things and that’s what we are praying for with open hands and surrendered hearts just after our prayer for His will in our lives on earth as it is in heaven.

There is so much more to this story. So much to tell of the Lord’s goodness in the journey. Chance meetings, unexpected new friendships with refreshing encouragement, tiny miracles and opportunity after opportunity to share of the glory of the Lord along the way even if it’s been through unexpected tears and choked back words of questioning in the new unknown. Reminds me a bit (in a way more toned down, less persecuted way) of Paul’s journey. From imprisonments to shipwrecks (to viper bites!) his story was unexpected and I can only imagine didn’t go quite as he planned. And yet all along the way he preached Jesus. And in the wake of his journey were new believers and so much new hope. Kinda like it’s the way The Lord drew it up.

Today I pray that we have the courage to share Jesus and His story in our lives. That we have the eyes and maturity to not only frantically search out purpose in the postponed but rest in true peace even in the unknown. Knowing that we walk according to the plans of the all knowing Jesus. May our lives and our stories be fully and completely His and whole heartedly for His glory.

And for Italy, I have hope that we will see you again soon if the Lord wills. But in the meantime we will have to settle for Dominos delivery for dinner and reminiscing through old photos like this one of the Florence’s majestic Duomo at sunset. 

xoxo, Caroline

To 2019: The marvelous and the mess traveling alongside one another...

Silver Lake | June Lake, CA | October 2019 | Contax 645 , Fujifilm Pro 400h 120

Have you ever stood looking out at a vista that seemed to sing? That’s what nearly every turn was for us on our trip out west this fall. And while the world held its share of aches even on this gorgeous day nature didn’t stop singing His praises all around us. Turn after turn after turn.

That’s just a little bit of what 2019 has felt like. The marvelous and the mess traveling alongside one another. All in one glorious unexpected song we were invited to sing for His glory.

I’m thankful for the song of heaven and nature and for a world that sings His praises on the mountain top and in the valley and amidst the aches of life and amidst the joys.

I’m excited to spend another year and Lord willing another decade singing His song for His glory and enjoying each path he takes my feet down especially when it includes a beautiful golden view as this one.

xoxo, Caroline

Let every heart prepare Him room...

The Church of Saint Anne Garden Roses | Jerusalem, Israel | Contax 645 , Fujifilm Pro 400h 120

Let every heart prepare Him room...
How do you prepare for such a thing?

This holiday season has been no different than the others. Filled to the brim with so many things. And while I was following along on a multitude of Advent devotionals trying my hardest to stay grounded and focused this Christmastime, my thoughts were constantly running off time and time again. Always back again and again to me. How do I feel physically? (I’m nursing a cold, thanks for asking.) How do I feel emotionally? (I’m nursing the normal emotional ailments that come with the season of “too full” and “too empty”, “too much” and “to little” all at the same time, thanks for asking.) All day everyday I stay firmly in the circle of self focus from things as big as a sweet memory of my dad that brings tears to my eyes to as small as how this traffic is going to make me late (who am I kidding, it was myself that made me late).

How is there any room for Him with so much of me in my thoughts and heart?

As I settled in to relax one night I prayed, “Dear Lord, lead my thoughts to what you desire me to focus on.” And immediately my mind went to Philippians 2.

“Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.” - Philippians‬ ‭2:3-4

How important must I think I am to spend so much time thinking about myself?

Just after this verse it goes on to remind us that literally the most important person in all of history “emptied Himself, taking on the form of a bond servant,” and “humbled Himself by become obedient to the point of death” for us (Phil. 2:7-8).

The most important Person on the planet for all time regarded us, our lives and our eternity as more important than Himself.

Jesus may have come as a baby in a manger and we celebrate that goodness this Christmas season. But He came with one purpose in mind, one cup that felt at times too heavy to bear. And He left this planet 33 years later on a cross as the Savior of us all. Just for us.
How do we make room for that?

How do we not?

This Christmas Eve I’m taking one more deep breath and one more stab at slowing down and taking my thoughts off of myself. I’m spending a little extra time in prayer for those the Lord has entrusted to me along my path. For those I know are waiting for a hoped for future, waiting for a baby, searching for discernment for next steps and next moves, praying for patience longing for true contentment, joy and peace. And last but certainly not least I’m turning my thoughts to Him, a baby, a Savior, the longed for King, a Sacrifice for us, a promise, a light, a hope. And letting my heart empty of myself and prepare Him more and more abundant room. 

New eyes, giant oaks and new excitement tucked within the grand messiness of things quite old — An artist's musings

This spring I spent any free time I had reading the loveliest of books about the places we call home and the story of trees and seeing our sweet Maker in it all called Placemaker by @christiepurifoy. (Get your hands on a copy pronto, people.) It sent my head a swirl of thoughts of my own home and tree stories throughout my life and may or may not have sent me on an online hunt for the oldest trees in Florida. But I’ll leave you to discover that story yourself.

I remember the adjustment when I first moved back to Florida nine years ago after a slow ten year crawl up the east coast from the hills of north Florida, to the hustle of Atlanta, to the southern charm of central North Carolina collecting stories along the way. Coming home as an adult and a more refined artist with new eyes, the things I was enamored by the most were the trees, giant oaks dripping with Spanish moss. How did I not appreciate these more as a child in the sprawling shade of their twisting branches?

The excitement of “new” doesn’t always involve shiny, pristine things. It can oftentimes be found tucked within the messiness of things quite old. Like new life a bloom in ancient tree limbs you never thought to look at before. Fresh nests within its branches. The old cradles the new in a beautiful pairing. Unable to separate one from the other. As equals they spring forward in excitement together.

And this was a bit of my story of coming home. My new eyes turned towards things I never thought to look at before, marveling that they were there all along.

Here at this wedding celebration in the heart of central Florida Christine and Dan stand beneath the limbs of an ancient oak, firmly rooted by a central Florida lake. Who knows how old it is or the story’s these limbs could tell. But this day they tell the story of something new, the start of a journey that began in its late afternoon shade.