Our trip to the Pacific Northwest

It's been nearly a month since we have arrived home from our 2 week adventure to the Pacific Northwest and Banff, Canada with our three children (7,5,2).  I had originally planned to furiously edit these photos and write all about it immediately but it was too sacred.  I truly have needed to just sit and processes before having the words.  

I keep comparing this trip to labor and childbirth.  It is powerful and wonderful and sacred and yet it is something you do NOT want to do again or think about doing again immediately following.   Give yourself a few weeks and suddenly you'll remember so fondly something that was so hard and painful. 

I know you saw the pictures on Instagram.  The beautiful mountains and the rocky coasts, my children dressed in adorable mismatched clothes and boots.  I know it looked picturesque and maybe even sent a pang of jealousy into the pit of your stomach.  Even though I tried to keep it real with several posts of crying car rides, that did not even scratch the surface of how hard this trip was.  

As hard and painful as this trip was, it was equally needed and healing.  

Our children are very similar to feral animals.  They run and play in the open air and the second you put them inside they go crazy.  So more than 3,000 miles traveled via car was hard for everyone.   Having just received a concrete diagnosis for our oldest of Severe ADHD/ODD a few weeks before the trip, and trying out some medications and new dietary restrictions for him, it just really added to the painfulness of it all.  

For every moment of pain there was a tiny glance or hand hold or a pause and a drawing in.  

You see, ever since our precious first born was born and something was "off" with him, I feel like I've started separating from Noah.  Because when it gets hard...or stays hard all the time, it's just so much easier to go off on your own, lick your wounds and return to try again.  

The hard part, the hardest part is drawing in.  It's not pretty.  It's not idilic picnics on the beach and romantic gestures, it's standing firm, it's lifting one another when they are too weary to go on.  There was a lot of awkward and painful moments on this beauty filled trip.  Too many times to count I was just paralyzed with fear of how to move on, how to address one more hungry child who was tired, how to calm Barclay down after another fit, how to dig deep down and give grace to my husband.  We were stuck together for two weeks and we did it.  We grew and we healed a bit.  

I feel so unworthy to be the mama of this tribe.  I feel so ill equipped, so lacking in patience, so childlike myself.  But grace is daily extended to me and it is restoring me.  

I can see the beauty here, in this family of mine.  This gift of people that are my people.  Every one precious and unique and wonderfully made for a purpose.  

picking up the trash | some thoughts on voting this election

I can't help it, every time I'm out in nature, I pick up the trash.  A tiny candy wrapper here, a garbage bag left behind there.  I pick up the trash because I love the earth!  When I go to my river and see the piles of trash left behind by people who don't live here, I feel such ownership and even though I didn't leave it behind, I take the time to throw it away, because I want to come here for years and years to come.  

One day, I'll never forget, I was walking beside the ocean and bent down to pick up a small wrapper from the ground.  I put it in my pocket and thought nothing of it until someone who was passing by sneered at me and said " Do you really think you picking up that wrapper is going to make a difference?"

I was so stunned.  OF COURSE IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE!  Can't you see?!  There is one less wrapper on this beautiful beach.  Sure they'll be other wrappers and so I will keep picking them up.

I'm not politically minded.  I don't grasp or understand all the ins and outs of how things work in this inner circle, but I've tried to stretch myself to research and learn about the options I have to vote for.  

This year I'm voting for Gary Johnson (Libertarian Candidate) for president.  And just as when I picked up that small wrapper from the beach, I have been sneered at and told "Don't you know, your vote isn't going to make a difference." or even worse, "Don't know you that you are endangering our country by giving your vote to (fill in the blank)?!"  

Well, I refuse to make my vote based on fear.  I REFUSE!  I happen to believe that no matter what I vote or who wins, that we will be ok-ish.  

Yes.  Most likely Gary won't win the election by a landslide (thank you antiquated system and media monopoly), but maybe just maybe, enough people will step outside of what is comfortable and not be shamed or scared into their vote.  Every time I see a trusted, smart friend say they are voting for Gary Johnson, I feel just a little bit more like sticking it out.  Maybe we all just need to stop being bullied and stand up for ourselves and our wishes.  Maybe next election people will talk about how a third party candidate actually got pretty close and maybe next election more people will vote without fear.  

Because how will any progress ever be made?  How has any change or progress ever been made? It's been made by people who refuse to believe the lies that they don't matter.

Because I cannot, I will not be told that picking up a piece of trash doesn't matter and I will not be told that my vote doesn't matter.  Because believing that makes me apathetic and I loose a feeling of ownership and responsibility and I frankly don't really want to live in a world, in a country that makes me feel that way.

And so I will keep my head down and I will keep picking up the wrappers so that many years from now my children will be glad that I did.  

alison and david | charleston, sc

I grew up with a best cousin friend who was nearly exactly my age.  I had 4 younger sisters and she had 2 older brothers.  So going to each other's home was always new and exciting.  David is one of the older brothers.  He tormented me as a girl (folding me up in the folding couch and hiding under our bed) and I loved it.  

David is really special to me.  I've always loved his quiet and wild heart.  I spent endless summers watching him in the ocean mastering anything athletic he touched.  When I think of him, I see him coming in from the ocean with his twinkly eyes, giant smile and his salty hair.  

David has those same twinkly eyes for Alison.   

Really the first good amount of time I spent with his bride was the morning of her wedding.  I spent a few relaxing hours at their rental house with her family who flew from Scotland to celebrate.  And what a sweet morning it was!  Chatting and dancing and drinking tea and eating biscuits. As the hours ticked by my heart felt more and more glad that my dear cousin got to spend the rest of his life with this woman.  Not only is she kind but she is genuine through and through.  Not only is she strong (hello crossfit!) but she is gentle.  

Alison and David had their first look at his parent's home in Charleston, SC where the summer sun pierced through the draping spanish moss in the most romantic of ways.

They had their intimate ceremony on the water at Cottage on the Creek on Shem Creek.  During their ceremony they honored their parents beautifully and also honored David's daughter Jenna Kate with family vows.  

As soon as they were pronounced husband and wife the sky poured down with a torrential summer rainstorm!  Despite heavy rain, the party didn't even waver.  The cocktail hour was cozy and intimate and everywhere I looked there were smiles and laughter.    

Every wedding I do I look through my camera and document so many new faces.  Even though they are just faces to me, I know each one is beloved and treasured by the bride and groom.  It was really special to really know and love the people on the other side this go around; my great Aunt Lucy, who I named my daughter after, my cousin who I have 90% of my childhood memories with, and so many other loved ones.   

I entered the wedding day completely positive that the dance floor would be hopping that night. No shadow of a doubt.  And I wasn't disappointed.  The dance floor was opened after the bride and groom interrupted their traditional first dance with the Whip and Nay Nay and the fun just went up from there.  The whole evening was filled to the brim with laughter, good food, dance and so.much.fun.  I might have even done the worm at one point...

ceremony and reception : cottage on the creek

make up and hair: blushair

floral: my sweet aunt robin's garden