Swell Season

My Home

..seek peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into the exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” Jeremiah 29:1- 7

It has taken several years to finally be ok with where God has me. And to feel at peace with it. This is where I am.. Texas. It’s been a long time coming. By no means am I in exile.. yet I won’t lie in saying that there for some time, it did feel a bit like I had been separated from the very things that mean so much to me: community, friends and my family. But I believe that when we do step out in our faith, God always provides.. and above and beyond than what we could ever imagine for our lives.

Our God is the same God all the time, everywhere. I can't be conditional with how I am or where I am but to continue to be the woman that God is shaping me to be, to love unconditionally and look to serve others not how can I be served, to remain humble and look to the needs of others regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. Not when I feel like making time or I'm across an ocean. I still have so much to grown in this... but it's moving.. and feels amazing.

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Waking long before the sun has made itself known to the world, the house has slowly begun to warm. As the sun begins to climb, brilliant colors of orange, red and pink paint the horizon.. and for the first time since moving to Texas, I am glad to be home. The house is quiet and the full aroma of coffee brought back from Rome fills the kitchen. From the window, the trees shake.. the few leaves that continue to cling to their limbs are all but faded from last weeks vibrant autumn colors and make their way to their final resting place.. blanketing my yard. Alexi Murdoch sings ‘my salvation lies in your love’ and I feel a deep peace. Finally..

Months have past since taking the time to pen my thoughts. I needed a break from writing and to really process all that has been transforming in my life. In these past few months, so much has taken place. I moved from downtown Dallas about 45 miles north to a little town of McKinney. It took a lot of convincing to open my mind to the thought of moving but after a week of driving over 90 miles a day, I realized this was not what I wanted. So I began looking.. and with the first home I discovered I was in love! A little white cottage house built in the 1940’s had been lovingly restored and was ready to be a home. The little town of McKinney borders suburbia and wide open spaces of farm land. Many of the roads here are marked ‘FM’ or ‘RR’ which means either ‘Farm to Market’ or ‘Ranch to Market’. This dates back to the day when farms/ranches took these roads to the town market for the week. This is getting closer to the Texas you imagine not what I’ve been living in for the past two years: concrete and thoughtless suburban sprawl. Gratefully there are a few hills that grace the otherwise open plains. Just 15 minutes northwest, sits a state park where I can enjoy the stillness of the country that I so miss about Tennessee. Not a car, building, road or person in sight.

a few of the houses around the neighborhood




The house where I now make a home sits in the historical district of downtown McKinney. The town dates back to the early 1800’s and the houses that make up this wonderful little neighborhood are full of character. It reminds me much of a mix between Savannah and Franklin.. minus the Spanish Moss and 6 digit incomes. There is something authentic and genuine in these old homes.. nothing too over manicured yet you can see the tenderness taken to care for them. These homes are well loved and lived in. Walking these streets, I discover a new gem of a home with each stroll. Less than a mile is the old historic city center. It looks much like downtown Murfreesboro with the old courthouse turned performing arts center in the middle of the square yet has been restored much like downtown Franklin. On the weekend, it is a thriving center of activities where a blues band jams at the pizzeria and couples spill out of the steakhouse or local winery. Street musicians play on the street corners, there is local pub and coffee shop, a bistro and an Italian restaurant with a resident Italian (from Venice), a tapas and wine bars fill the in betweens. Recently, our office moved in above the Italian place which I couldn’t be more thrilled with. Going from 90+ miles a day to/from work to less than a mile isn’t bad at all!





But it hasn’t been the move or the new job title as the Creative Director/Arts Coordinator that has been the real change. It has been what God has been transforming, shaping within me. This has been the most transforming year of my life.

You can acquire knowledge, have a fresh perspective on life but that does nothing for my soul. For the first time I can say I’ve really pursued my relationship with God as a priority and not just a nice idea which I might get around to. This deepening in my relationship has been the real change. It’s easy to make excuses.. to say ‘well I just didn’t grow up with that’ or ‘I don’t have time’ or ‘It’s too big to even know where to start’. I’ve made excuses for not pressing into God and really depending on Him. Yet how grateful I am that He lavishes His grace upon us and has so much patience! Recently as I’ve been reading through the Gospels, I’ve been reminded so many times that when Jesus looks out at all the people, before a crowd, what is it he feels..? Not frustration. Not annoyance. Not anger. Not disgust. He has compassion. He says that ‘they are sheep that have lost their Shepard’. Compassion. How often do I get annoyed, impatient, frustrated, arrogant, self righteous when I look at others. But God.. He looks upon us with compassion.

Yet this relationship means responding to your faith.. it's not enough to just desire to know God but you must step out in your faith. In Ephesians 2:8-10 it is written that 'it is by grace you have been saved- through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God- not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do go works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. My pastor, Matt Chandler, once spoke about the word used here 'workmanship' .. the greek translation being 'poetry'. Poetry being created out of emotion.. that we are created out of God's emotion.. we are the movement of God. Wow if that doesn't move something in you.... ;) Yet with out action, faith is dead as it is written in James 2:17.

For me it's been amazing to begin to grasp that it's not enough to say "i believe".. "I'm faithful".. if my life isn't reflective of my faith, if I am not compelled.. then i haven't gotten it. Reading through the Gospels, I was reminded of how many times people came to Jesus, asking to be healed.. and it was never a question as to if he could.. You see Jesus healing those because of their faith. Because they had great faith, they were healed.. not because they were blind.. weak.. sick.. unclean.. but because of their faith. So for me, the question I ask myself.. looking with in.. am I compelled to live my life of faith..?

There has been a stirring in my soul. A floodgate has been opened within me that leaves me in awe.. more to come on this..

“Pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever, amen!” Ephesians 3: 16-21

Great Books:

·The Bible: really.. just start in Matthew and read a few chapters a day .. spend time in the Word as well as journaling through what you’re reading. . and the you’ll feel the stirring ..
·Jesus Save the Christians: A manifest for the church in exile by Rob Bell
·Beyond Homelessness: Christian Faith in a Culture of Displacement by Bouma-Prediger & Walsh

A new season begins.. in Italy.

My fourth season with Joshua Expeditions began with a new job as the Creative Director and the Arts Coordinator.  I am to continue be their main European guide but half the amount of days as in the past.. meaning I'll only be guiding around 85 days this year ;)  

Yet as much as I've enjoyed my new role with JE, what I'm most passionate about has always been the guiding.. connecting with the kids.  Sure I love to travel and wandering through the Roman Forum on a sunny November day beats being in an office in Dallas any day!  But its the students that I enjoy so much and it is this that I look forward to the most.

The first tour of the season had me returning to my second home: Italy.  Arriving in Rome the day before the group, I was so excited to be back.  Yet this year than any year prior, I was so excited to share in all that God had worked on within me with these students.  Before I even laid eyes on the group, something in my heart knew that it was going to be an amazing trip.  

          Spanish Steps. Roma

Waiting for the group to walk through Terminal C at Rome's FCO airport, I was greeted by Massimo, a coach driver I've been working with for years now.  Rather than greeting me with the typical kisses on each cheek, he pulled me into a big embrace and a genuine smile, 'cara bella! come stai?!'  I was back and so happy.  

         San Giminagno  (Tuscany)

The group arrived after an hour or more of waiting for them. Their excitement was infectious and we were off to Florence.  Arriving at the hotel, once again I was greeted with warm embraces by the family who owns and runs the hotel eden.  In a flurry of Italian, they made me feel so welcomed.  I felt like I had come home.  And later that night as we ate cingale (wild boar) the restaurant owners too welcomed me with open arms.  As I gave them Kyle Tour of Florence by Night.. I couldn't be more happy to be back.  Really God?!  You allow this for my life..?!

The days that followed, we traveled from Florence to San Giminagno (or San Jimmy Jimmy as the kids called it) to Siena.. then to our final place, Rome.  As one day led to the next, so each student became a precious heart, a personality, a struggle and a dream..  how honored I was to be apart of sharing in this with them.  Not only were the students amazing, the teachers on the trip were just as wonderful.  It was so evident how much they cared for each student.  Not only did that invest in each student when it came to accademics but also they were investing in them spiritually.  What a gift I pray these kids never take for granted!  And what wonderful examples to be surrounded by. 

     Caldwell Academy aka amazingness!!

This group of students left such a huge impression on this heart of mine.  Not only were they sharp, intelligent kids but they had a servants heart.  What came from their lips was genuine and authentic, a true reflection of the overflow of their hearts, God working in them. What great hope you have for each and every one of them.  Getting to know each of them, some better than others, I was so excited for what God has ahead for them.  This world has been changed by fewer people than these 31 students.  Each night as we spoke, they shared, I found myself so humbled by how much I have to learn and how much God is continuing to reveal to me.  To learn from what they had to share. 

As difficult as high school can be, these seniors came through it shining!!  I thank God for continuing to allow me to share in this with these students.  To lead, to teach, to share, to encourage, to challenge but most importantly, to love them.  And this was only the first trip for the season!  I can only imagine what God is going to do in the new season to come..  

Wings of Desire..

I discovered this video recently and it really resonated with me... enjoy!

Hope in a hopeless world.

God has done something incredible within me these past 7 months of tours.. it's like He has breathed new life into me and I feel like i've stepped into this whole new place and I'm seeing with scales removed from my eyes.. and through His lens. It's pretty incredible. I understand more and more that we can't 'save everyone' but we can move.. love.. embrace.. because it doesn't stop with us. it starts with us. every little bit helps. the world would not be spinning otherwise.. Can you imagine if everyone had the attitude: who am i? i can't do anything so why try..? That's just the way the world is. Then again.. why do you see people who seem to 'have it all' continue to seek.. search..? because we've been reconciling our soul back to the beginning.. because we were created for much greatness.. not for our own glories.. no. because it doesn't stop with us ;) ..

I've witnessed things that I never ever thought.. or could comprehend. And to think.. so much worse is there. I pray I never witness.. When I am in Europe for long periods of time.. alone.. it's a battlefield on my soul as March and June seemed to be. Because.. I know. The war waging within at times becomes so overwhelming that I have to remember where my comfort and strength lies.

Remembering that first moment .. when something within me recognized darkness beyond what lay in me.. I was in my freshman year of college. Having just come back from watching a movie with my roommate, we settled into our dorm room for the night. This was in the fall of 98. The tv was on and Dateline began a segment... 'The Trial of Tears'. Sitting on the floor, I watched images of mostly women and children walking great distance in a land foreign to me.. the bare landscape and balding mountains, snow capped. The look in their eyes.. This was in Kosova. It was the first time it clicked within me. I sat there with tears streaming down my face.. not able to comprehend what was happening. After all we were on the cusp of the new millennium and this was Europe.. yet these faces told a different desolate story. In those moments, I felt something surge deep deep inside of me.. I felt empowered and powerless all at the same time..

It started there... like i said.. no longer did it stop with me, but this is where it started. I understand more how much my life since then has been a bit of a patchwork quilt.. made up of experiences.. moments.. people and places.. held together by the stories. And it has been the same Spirit which has moved me..

This past year while in Greece, I met with a ministry called Porta (means door in Greek.. Albanian and Italian). They work with Albanians who live in Greece (mostly in Athens) in helping them learn anything from life skills to english, building community and fellowship.. and just loving them. I spent two nights with this group of sweet beautiful people.. and as they sang in Albanian.. praising God in their language.. It was everything in me to not weep from joy.. but so humbled.. Ten years ago.. I sat on the floor of my dorm room feeling helpless yet with every ounce of my being wanting to reach across the vastness of this lonely world and give them something.. anything.. hope. What had been given to me in an inward place of such darkness, i know experience hope in my own life. Walking back to my temporary 'home' for a moment.. I felt the realness of God. I wanted to tell someone about this.. but wasn't sure who I could say as who could I begin to explain this journey? But God knew... He knows my heart.

it's a choice you make.. you choose how to live your life, to make manifest each day as it is the only guarantee you get! As I am sure you look back at your own life and think.. how have I come through all this? how is this my life..?

The more I travel.. i understand that travel for me isn't about collecting postcards or checking off a list of places i've been.. for me, it is about the people. For me it has been about not acquiring good experiences.. as they have been.. but God experiences. All these moments.. people.. experiences.. places.. form a constellation in the sky of God.. It's not a institution.. a word.. not something i do.. but it is a revolution that changes you.. moves you.. And I haven't stopped.. ;) I no longer feel helpless.. hopeless.. powerless.. but empowered to be a part of something much great than me. As we are each called to such greatness.

music by my bedside.

Moments before I was to board the cruise ship leaving the port from Turkey back to Greece, I found my way into a little music/book shop. Weeks prior my wallet had been stolen leaving me with limited cash. Wandering the rows, I was drawn to the image and title of this book. It was not only reading the back of the page but the opening lines of this book that I knew I must by it. For going lunch for a few days to buy this book served a good choice.. before the ship even left the port that night, I dove into this beautiful book in which I found such a reflection of myself..

Below is a few pieces from within..

I cannot sleep without music by my bedside. Since I was a kid. An old love song always plays on that small music box, carrying me to the unforgettable images of days long gone. How strange is human memory! Without warning, image come alive, their colors become manifest, pulling you into the realms of the past as if you stranded in a broken time machine. The images and their dates jumble together. You cannot tell which scent pairs with which memory. Perhaps, instinctively, you know which of them is precious, and sometimes, as you are twisted around in the intricate mechanism of recollection, the images flow by, gliding over windowpanes of a racing train. Suddenly, a single memory glitters, catching your eye for a moment and at that very moment, you yearn, more than you have ever yearned for anything, to go back to that image, to that one and only feeling that has remained unnoticed. Since my childhood, I have always wondered about the recording mechanism of the human mind. Images, colors, faces, scenery, photographs, houses, roads, clothes, scents, smells, sounds and feelings are all registered in my memory with unfathomable speed. So the next time you chance upon something or someone- a spitting image- you remember..

Time after time, I stroll through the sophisticated, every growing, gargantuan archives of my mind and lose myself in a myriad of twirling concentric circles. Wishing to catch and recall a memory, an emotion, or a moment gone by, I find myself engulfed in an utterly different time and place. I wonder how I happened to find myself by the seaside, inhaling the scents of an unexpected spring just as I was listening to the half destroyed records of a conversation that took place in the rooms of my childhood.

Nowadays, space travel is possible. However, setting off on a journey in time is only possible if our destination is the unknown cities of our memory, traveling through our inner selves.

If I had been told that I cold stop at a certain moment in my life and stay there forever, I would have chosen one of two moments. The first is when I was rocking in the swing hanging from the branches of a tree in the backyard of my childhood. The other is the day I first kissed the man I loved more than anyone in my whole life.. many strived to write the common language of falling in love. In fact, it is quite simple: you are in live if you feel as if you’re rocking on a swing when you kiss the one man you loved more than anyone..

Tantalizing Glimpses.

CS Lewis understands that longing deep within us all too well...

"Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year after year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it—tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest—if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself—you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say "Here at last is the thing I was made for." We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.."

Taken from his book: The Problem of Pain

Do these words not move something within you..? reading this always leaves me saying.. 'wow..'.

A picture of peace

The train journey into the heart of Switzerland found me once again without words. The two hour ride felt as if only moments passed as I found it hard for me to pull myself away from the view which lay outside my window seat. How quiet the car was as compared to most trains throughout Italy. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Italians.. but they are loud. You sit on a train through Italy and the phones are ringing letting you know of their importance as you hear every word of their conversations.. the hands flying.. even the announcements, which come ever so often to let you know of your arrival. But on the little William Tell Express train.. the Swiss were quiet as if too left speechless by the vistas we now traveled through.

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Gimmelwald

The views continue to get better. If you could see this view from where I find myself curled up under a blanket here on the porch, you would never want to leave. I will try and paint a picture.. all around me are snowy mountain peaks, waterfalls streams down until they become mist.. a fog is rolling in and this changes the atmosphere of this place.. chickens move out of the corner of my eye seeking food in the flower covered meadows.. birds sings and you hear the bells signaling the movemnts of the local resident cows and goats. Typical Swiss chalets dot the landscape, dark wood with beautiful designs carved into their doors and windows. Flowers, a myriad of colors spill from boxes in the windows and as you walk the little one street which runs through this little village, danndalions blows through the air as if this mountain itself is making a wish.. Laundry hands to my left and locals walk the street to my right greeting each other in dialect which is new to my ears. For a moment it began to rain, the sound adding to the symphony of sounds and soothing my soul. The temp has dropped a good 15 degrees in the past hour and the scent of wet fresh earth fills my lungs. This is a picture of peace. I am at peace here. All I need is a cup of coffee.. ;)

another trip comes to an end.

Another wonderful group has come and gone. We spent a week and a half in Italy.. traveling from Florence to hiking to Cinque Terre to ending Rome. What an amazing group of students! Saying goodbye to this group ended the four weeks of constant tours.. i felt a wave of emotions wash over me as I walked by to the airport terminal shuttle alone. Almost deflated. I felt liberated.. yet I felt as if I no longer had any purpose for my being there.

The next few weeks I will to have myself.. where I will travel up into Switzerland and back through Italy once again. More to come..

Rothenberg ober de Tor

The little room where I find myself tonight has a view that looks out over the red rooftops of Rothenberg ober de tor. Exposed wooden beams, laced curtains and a corner bed welcome my weary body. This was one of those days where I pinch myself in that I get to do this for a living!

Traveling west out of Prague, once again we made our way through the beautiful countryside. Not long after entering Germany did we made a stop in the town of Nuremberg. As Hitler put it, this was the most German of German towns. Gothic spires, cobble stone streets and flower market made this an appealing city for the kids. Little did any of us know what a treat we were in for upon entering this village set off the Romantic Road.

We had discovered prior to arriving, that it would not be possible to drive the coaches within the walled city. Therefore, we’d all prepared a night bag so that 140 people weren’t dragging massive pieces of luggage down the narrow streets. As if we could conceal ourselves! Once we arrived, I ran ahead of the group to find the hotel and calculate how long of a walk it would be. Tthe moment I stepped through the gated city.. through the small door in the wall, I felt like I’d stepped into another world.. much like when the children of CS Lewis’ The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, stepping through into this enchanting world. I was spellbound from the first moment that I almost forgot my mission!

After gaging the distant, I ran back and rounded up the troops. What a sight to see all of us parading through the village and up the narrow streets to our hotel. The hotel itself was just as charming. The kids squealed with excited as they went to their rooms and I could hardly wait myself to get out and explore.

Wandering the streets, I got a sense of the place. I was anxious to see the small side streets, what they’d have to share with me. With Ray LaMontange as my soundtrack.. and free to wander along, how free and at peace I felt. Exploring comes natural to me and how I welcome the unknown. For some time I was the only soul in sight weaving up and down the narrow back roads. Flowers draped the walls of homes and the character of each place competed for my attention. Soon the small streets gave way to a gate tower, which led to a beautiful garden on the city walls. The view, which looked out over the river and valley, was a feast for my soul. Standing on the edge, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs which such a sweet heady scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. Opening my eyes, I let myself drink in my surroundings. The only sounds came from the wind through the trees, the birds and the sound of rushing water. Occasionally, hearing the muffled conversations was I reminded this wasn’t only for me.

Taking my shoes off, my tired feet and the fresh carpet of grass made a happy union. Lying on my back with my arms behind my head, I lay there watching the clouds lumber over me, the trees in movement. The village bells stroke 7pm marking my time to go. How reluctant I was to move from my spot there under the trees. But I’ll be back. We have all day here tomorrow to enjoy and I know where I’m going to spend it! These are the moments that stay with me. Those single moments I find within an otherwise crazy schedule that help keep me going…

Over the bridges and through the crowds we go!

The group of 140 students (and teachers) have arrived.. and we are off! I feel funny realizing that so many people are following my lead.. finding your way through Venice is a task.. let alone leading 140!! There were a few moments when I thought I may have taken a wrong turn.. you don't want to take a wrong turn with so many people! This would lead to a very humbling experience. Ahh but to sweet relief I never led us astray.

We had a wonderful time.. that first day in Venice. Half of it was spent at a local school there in the floating city. Those precious kids were loving every moment of attention our group would lavish on them. I felt myself come alive being able to use my italian to translate.. communicating ... connecting our world with theirs. Just to simply love on them.

Back to Italy.

The moment I enter Italy.. I feel as if I can breathe again. A place that was home for sometime, still pulls on my heartstrings. Regardless of what goes on here. I am always excited to be back. After a session of flights, I had arrived in Milano. Upon hearing Italian, my heart was swollen..

Walking off my last flight, I felt relief to be out of the air on just moments away from being liberated from airports. One hurdle left: customs. Several flights at arrived at once, creating massive lines to get through customs. There was one line for EU/CH members which moved fast.. and another 5 lines for everyone else. Choosing a line, I succumbed to waiting in yet again.. the only problem I discovered as did many others- it didn’t seem to be moving. Looking ahead, what was stopping us..? At two desks where families from Africa.. another two lines were stopped as there were families from the Middle East. Only the last line moved.. as they were Americans mostly.. while people.

As I moved to the line which seemed to be making progress I couldn’t think about the image taken by Stieglitz at the turn of the 20th century.. people disembarking a ship. From atop where white wealthy class.. the bottom was noted as ‘sterrage’. Another photographer, Lewis Hine photographed the conditions in New York City during the height of immigration into America. He published a moving body of work: How the Other Half Live. That’s what I thought about as I moved effortlessly through the line.. the customers officer hardly blinked while stamping my passport.. yet these families, stopped because of their social and economical class.. race.

An hour later, I was in Milano. Exited the train onto the platform, I found my way through the on going station works towards a taxi. It was raining.. how I could just go to sleep..

The hotel where I find myself isn’t far from the main train station. In all the times I’ve come through Milano and stayed the night, I’ve yet to see the Duomo or the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuel II. Cleaning up and resisting sleep, I set out to finally see this famed cathedral. As the esculator brought me from underground, it was not the site of the Duomo that caught my attention but the.. crowds of people yelling and waving flags. I had no idea what I just came into them again.. you never do in Italy! The Duomo took second chair tonight as the festi (party) was at the center of everyone’s attention. Mostly young men wandered in groups yelling and singing.. waving flags and throwing bottles.. blowing hours and kisses.. I wasn’t sure what to make of all this. Honestly, I’m always a little over stimulated my first day back in Europe. In Dallas, there is little space to interact with people.. but in Europe, that’s all you do! Stopping to ask a man ‘cosa facendo?’ what’s going on? He mentioned the league, Inter Milan soccer team. Ahh. I should of known. The Euro Cup begins in a few weeks as well.. and it’s Sunday. They always play on Sundays.

But the most memorable moment of the evening was watching the waxing full moon rise over the Duomo.. those are the moments when everyone at once seems to be silenced around you and you tell yourself ‘remember this moment..’.

Finding a little pizzeria to take cover from the drunken Italian men (I was grossly out numbers AND alone..) I sent in to enjoy some real Italian food ☺ My first night back in a city, I always treat myself to a nicer meal.. taking my time and savoring the wonderful meal. I can’t do this while guiding as kids eat so fast and are ready to go on to the next thing! Lucky for me, I had six different Italian men waiting on me. At first, they went to speak english.. but only after I refused to break from Italian did they so speak with me. Oh what events lay ahead these next few months, too soon will I find out!

Sweet Celebration

Last weekend I traveled home to Nashville to photograph a friend of mine’s wedding. The past two years, I’ve photographed a half a dozen of my friend’s weddings. Each one is beautiful and sweet in its own way. This was no different. It was a beautiful blue sky weekend. The rolling Tennessee hills welcomed me home and I couldn't be more ellated. The day of the wedding was perfect.

To me, the most precious and beautiful weddings aren't a production; meant to impression and make a show of the couple but a celebration of two families coming together. Adrienne, the bride, was stunning.. she was glowing as any bride would be on their wedding day. Both had such a peace about them and their families were incredible in how the came together to create this beautiful wedding. The setting was the Carton Mansion in Franklin where under an old oak tree, the two became one. Surrounded by their friends and family, you could feel how loved these two were. What an honor it was for me to be a part in capturing this day..

Shelby Lynne and Thunderstorms

I’m sure each of us can remember a show or concert where you experienced something beyond just a good night of entertainment.

Driving home from work that day, the dark foreboding clouds warned what lay ahead for the night; foreshadowing what was to come. Ignoring the hollowing winds and almost sideways rain, I ventured to the Granada Theater to see Shelby Lynne in concert. For eight years, I’ve loved her music. Remembering the first time I heard her album ‘I am Shelby Lynne’ at a HMV music store on Oxford Street in London. The first song on the album found it’s way into me and I’ve been a fan ever since.

There are those musicians who are so much better live than their studio album. This was one of those nights. Waiting for the show to start, a man sat on the stage with his guitar singing ‘Nashville Blues’. I couldn’t help but smile.. another troubadour in search of making it big in Music City. I had caught the end of his set and soon the curtains closed. Looking around, the place was not empty nor was it packed. I wasn’t sure what to expect of those who’d be there.. but was not surprised at the mix she brought- you can’t pigeon hole her music.. nor could you the audience she lured.

Alone I stood waiting for the show to begin ready to lose myself in the music. Not a moment later had the lights dimmed to signal the beginning.. the curtains were raised and there her band began to play… setting the mood, the crowd hushed, and Shelby came out. Wearing a t-shirt and jeans, she wasn’t dressed to impress- good for her. As when she opened .her mouth and began to sing, ‘the look of love.. is in the air.. and I can’t…. ‘ We were spellbound. Swaying back and forth, her hands reaching out, how she made singing look easy. She sang from her soul.

After a few songs, she began to speak with the crowd… you felt like you were in her living room.. she made you feel welcomed and comfortable as if we were the visitors. Her Alabama accent was enduring rather than obnoxious.

Singing Anyone Who Had A Heart you could hear a pin drop in the entire place. The rain began to come down hard and it only added to the atmosphere. She was having fun.. the musicians, each extremely talented yet left the spotlight for Shelby. She ended her second encore with her big hit, The Killing Kind.

Laying in bed later that night with the trees knocking on my window, I realized that the music of the night had taken me somewhere else.. some where deep inside. That is what music does. It has the ability to reach deep within, penetrating walls and striking at the very core of you.



Albums to check out:
I Am Shelby Lynne 2000
Suit Yourself
Identity Crisis
The Look of Love 2008 (Dusty Springfield covers)

a man sets out to chart the world.

A man sets out to chart the world. Through the years, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, tools, stars, horses, and people. Shortly before his death he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the images of his own face. – Jorge Luis Borges

Growing up, my dad subscribed to National Geographic. I know I’m not alone in sharing this memory of the yellow binding and images of places far reaching from that of my small town. With each month, came a map of a specific country, region or continent highlighted in the magazine. My dad began pinning up these maps each month on the back of the kitchen door. As we’d sit eating dinner, occasionally, he’d ask us questions in regards to the current map- to see if we’d at all studied it. At the time, I saw it as one of his round about ways to educate us. Little did I understand at that time, what value there was in this learned knowledge. It wasn’t soon after that I too began pinning maps on the back of my bedroom door. To this day, the ‘New Europe’ (from 1992) map is still in my procession. This was back when Czechoslovakia and a Yugoslavia was still in existence yet this was the ‘New Europe’. No longer was there a USSR or a divided Germany. I would often trace imaginary routes of where I’d travel to in Europe some day.

After backpacking Europe in 2000, one of the first things I did when I got home, was to go back and outline the actual route I took throughout Europe. When I moved from that college era home- this was the very last thing I removed from the house, almost reluctant to let go of this chapter of my life.

Well over a decade has passed since I first put that map on my bedroom door. And tonight, I found myself sitting on the floor of my room surrounded by maps of European cities, hotel brochures, restaurant cards, metro tickets, museum passes, postcards and random trinkets all from the past few years of tours. Here I was making room for the next year of tours’ collection. All these places which were far off distant places where now familiar places where I have friends and know the streets better than that of my current address. You never know where life will take you.. when you're willing to go without knowing.

such is life

All those books.. a year in Provence.. under the Tuscan sun.. driving over lemons.. Italian neighbors.. which regal of life as living la dolce vita.. buying that old home on a Greek island.. or a villa in Tuscany… maybe it’s a vineyard in France.. or even Spain. Yet the reality of life in these places is a very different story. Watching fuzzy images on the tv depicting Athens this morning, in total dishevel. Another strike. Is this the 4th one this week? I’ve lost count. No metros are running. No buses. No taxis. Trash hasn't been picked up in over a week. The atms are out of money (the bank has closed). Oh and the power is off. Not due to a power outage but because they’ve pulled the plug. Just like that.

No life here is not easy. As was said to me yesterday in a conversation, ‘this is not the good life’. Until the wee hours of the morning, I stayed up speaking with my new Greek mamma ☺ Felja, the local guide who I’ve worked with on several of my past trips has invited me to stay with her. See gleamed quite an insight into life here in Greece.

Back in America, we’re scared of the ‘r’ word.. recession. But really. We have such a good life. Yes this means we must cut back on spending.. oh how i can go on and on about all that we have!

This will certainly affect my job. To travel is a luxury and this will be cut back considerably. I don’t know what my job situation will be into the new year but who really knows anyways?

We complain and worry.. not to say that some is not without validity. So we have to do without a new car this year or more square footage.. or the latest styles.. or going to the movies weekly.. or eating out each nightly… we still have SO MUCH. Do we go each day wondering if today they will cut off our electricity because a people aren’t getting the pensions they want? No. The biggest strike I’ve even seen in my lifetime had to do with Hollywood. So your favorite TV shows went off the air.

I’m sitting here in the sun looking out the backyard of my friend’s home. Modest apartments surround me and in the distance the rocks of Meteora rise high above like the old monks themselves. Laundry hang from clotheslines, chickens cluck and a warm breeze brings to life the trees and weeds that grow between the homes. Dogs bark, children laugh and birds chirping. Life seems good here. You’d think. But look closer. Trash has piled high on the streets (no trash pick up due to the strike). Junk lay in piles in the yards. Mold grows in masses on the buildings and water stains the enterity of most these buildings. These modest homes aren’t due to a minimalist mentality. It’s a result of just trying to get by. And these are the majority of the people, not a minority. The average income being 900- 1200 dollars a month. Therefore MOST people work 2 jobs.

As I stayed up speaking with my friends, the stories recounted to me were of a life of hardships.. yet it seems to be that most people shrug their shoulders as if to say ‘such is this life’. Such is life. My thoughts on this could go on and on, therefore will continue for another day.

Turkish Delight

The stuff commercials are made of: dancing beautiful women dressed in national customs, male counterpart dressed the same, the beat of the drums encouraging the women to dance. Welcoming our smiling faces to their country.. Turkish delight being handed out.. our sea legs ready for the land. We've arrived to Kusadasi, a port city of Turkey on our way to Ephesus.

Local men stood off to the side completely stopped their work to watch us walk off the boat. I felt like circus animals come off a loading cart.. ‘the circus has come to town ladies and gentlemen’. Immediately I felt the eyes on us, especially on ‘my girls’. So innocent are they.

‘Turkish delight. Lady you want Turkish Delight? I am Turkish Delight. Where do you come from? I like your eyes. No be afraid of me. I not be scary people.’ And so it went on like this. The girls in my group giggled.. timid yet boldly responding to the calls. Are we so starved for verbal appraise? How I remember being charmed and flattered by such comments, and if I’m honest.. still feel the lure but know better now.

Again I steer clear of the marked paths and veer off down the side streets. It must seem the locals recognize I’m ‘one of them- fresh off the boat’. Yet I sense their confusion in why I’d be wandering down these unpaved trash filled streets- ‘does she know she’s wandered too far off?’ I tend to always walk as if I know where I’m going, even if I don’t. Dirt streets.. open meat markets are grounds for dogs searching for food.. men searching for women. Yes we are in the meat market now.