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To fully understand the significance of the following post, I'll have to first take you all the way back to October, 2008 in the following order...click here and then here and then here. (And don't go making fun of all my vignetting...you know that you were a little heavy-handed with the vignetting in 2008 too.)
Fast-forward to October 2012, and my family was once again making melon-baller memories by the dozen...
Happy Halloween.
And then we carved em'...
Hope your Halloween is wonderful.
We (finally) made it to the pumpkin patch yesterday...
I nearly got my ear pecked off for that shot.
Yes, I tredged my way through a 1/2 mile corn maze in a walking boot.
Josh Downs pushed a trashcan up against the porta-potty door while Courtney Lee was inside. (He does stuff like that all the time.)
That's a pear launching game (and Courtney Lee rocked it.)
That's Annie telling her daddy specifically what kind of treat she wanted him to buy her.
Pumpkin bowling.
And even though we specifically told the kids not to pick any flowers, I didn't complain when Coley handed me that big, orange baby.
And as we were leaving, Josh took a running jump at the rope fence that separated us from our truck.
And so did Coley.
And so did Courtney Lee...but I think you can imagine how that jump ended.
And pumpkin patch photos from years past...2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, and 2006.
I picked Coley up from school early on his birthday and we celebrated with a birthday lunch at some Mexican restaurant that Coley had been dying to try because our pastor had recommended it. (In fact, our pastor was eating lunch there when we arrived.)
And then on Friday, Josh took Coley and a couple of his friends out for a Nerf War, a movie and burgers at Jaspers.
And then on Sunday, we invited the family over for a party...
Dramatic much Annie?
Rosecoe-T even suprised Coley by coming down from Seattle for the day...
I wish I had more pictures to share, but it turns out that shooting with a broken leg is much harder than it looks. (I've got my fingers crossed that my doctor is going to take my cast off today and put me in a walking boot instead.)
And while I'm here, I've got three consults to give away to past students who participated in "What Did it Teach You?":
Michelle. Here's Michelle's submission.
Lindsay W. Lindsay's submissions are here and here.
Tonya. Here's Tonya's submission.
Michelle, Lindsay and Tonya, will you email me at karen@snapshotsofagoodlife.com so we can set up your photography consult?
And thanks to all you past students who participated - it was so much fun looking through all of those beautiful images. (Love you guys.)
That's me and Roscoe-T almost 20 years ago...
I started training last Friday to become a mentor at a locally run pregnancy center here in town. (They offer counseling, parenting classes, diapers and clothing, pregnancy tests, referrals, etc.)
Life is busy right now, so when they told me they planned to offer more training after the New Year, I almost took them up on it, but then it hit me that I was never going to magically 'find' the time - I was going to have to actually 'make' it.
So I dropped the kids off at school Friday morning, grabbed an iced Mexican Mocha from Mellelo's and drove (with butterflies in my stomach) to the Medford Pregnancy Center - and as I pulled into their parking lot, I immediately (and unexpectedly) started crying.
And I couldn't quit crying.
Its a hard thing to explain, but ever since Ross was little, I've known I needed to do this.
That's 20 years of not doing something that you know you're supposed to do.
That's 20 years of carrying around my past like a piece of shameful, burdensome baggage (A pregnancy a 18, welfare, being a single-mom, a physically abusive relationship, a divorce, another pregnancy on my own, kids with multiple fathers, etc., etc., etc.) when I could have been using it help someone.
Because God has a way of turning ashes into beauty.
But for 20 years, I wouldn't let Him.
So I just sat in the parking lot and cried.
And then I called Ross (my 20 year old son) because I knew he was the only person in my world that would really 'get' it.
And then I pulled myself together and went inside.
And I continued to hold it together until we came to this part of the training:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from the darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of rightesousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. Isaiah 61; 1-3
And I've been struggling with that for days now beacuse it almost feels wrong to say that "the Spirit of the Lord is on me", or to think that God would anoint a person like me, or that anyone could ever consider a person with my past to be an "oak of righteousness."
That feels almost laughable (and the fact that it feels laughable feels humiliating and the fact that it feels humiliating makes me want to run really, really far in the opposite direction.)
Karen Russell, you're a joke.
Seriously...How can you help "bind up the brokenhearted" when you're such a mess?
But God answered that for me repeatedly yesterday (because He knows me well enough to know that I never listen the first time.)
He answered me when our pastor said, "God doesn't call on the qualified - He qualifies the called."
And He answered me again when I noticed a girl (maybe in her early 20's?) crying during the sermon at our church and went to talk to her afterwards. (I was totally embarrassed to talk to her and tried to talk myself out of it repeatedly.) She told me that she was pregnant and that she was scared because she was going to have to raise the baby on her own. So I just hugged her for a really long time and told her that I had went through two pregnancies on my own and that I really wanted to take her out to lunch this week.
And he answered me again when I heard this: "The purpose of your calling will transcend the pain of your suffering."
So I may be a joke, and my past might confirm that, but I'm going to do it anyhow.
I'm going to try to be like a strong oak for those girls at the pregnancy center, because I just can't see the point in carrying all this baggage around anymore when I could be doing something beautiful with it.
And I'm not the only one.
I got an email from a past student of mine after she read this comment on my blog:
Her email said, "I read somewhere that feeling deep empathy is God's way of telling you to do something. I'm not a religious person, nor am I even sure I'm a believer,; but I live my life with an open heart and an open mind (or so I hope.) The more I thought about Nicky's comment, the more my heart inexplicably ached and the more I thought about the analogy and how it must be true."
So my past student (who is currently unemployed) offered to give up her own seat in my upcoming January workshop so that Nicky could take it instead. (Nicky, I have no way of contacting you, so I hope you see this post and that you'll email me at karen@snapshotsofagoodlife.com so we can set things up.)
Beauty from ashes.
The first day of his 12th year started off at 6:00 a.m. with a birthday cinnamon-roll...
Happy Birthday Coley. (I think you're pretty swell for a stinky 12-year-old.)
I had originally started this blog post with the words, "Most of the time, I think I'm just a big screw-up as a parent." but even as I was typing those words, I knew they weren't true.
I think the truth is that I probably get it right (or somewhat close to right) about 75% of the time. I smooch and hug on those kids like crazy. I'm constantly talking to them about what's really important in life. I apologize quickly and admit when I'm wrong. I say prayers with them every single night. I discipline them because I think discipline can be a good thing when it's used appropriately. I make homework a priority and not just because I want them to do good in school, but because I want them to learn obedience and self-discipline. I work hard on my marriage so they can see what a good marriage is supposed to look like. I think a lot about how to best handle situations and how to better handle them in the future. I try to be a good example by doing the right thing even when the right thing is hard. I teach them to stand up for other people who can't stand up for themselves. I try to let them learn life's lessons on their own rather than shielding them from them. And I try to instill the value of 'family' with traditions and love and respect and memories.
And I probably screw up about 25% of the time by being too busy with work, by overlooking something I should have addressed because I'm just too dang tired to address it or by losing my ever-loving-marbles and yelling at the top of my lungs over something I should have kept my cool over (and that's precisely when the fact that I'm quick to apologize and admit when I'm wrong comes in handy.)
And if this were baseball, I'd say my batting average was pretty good (but that I shouldnt miss any practices.)
But I think I did something really, really right with Annie the other day and I wanted to get it written down - and not so you all can pat me on the back and tell me what am amazing mom I am (I'm not.) but because I want Annie to be able to read it one day - heck, I want all of my kids to read it one day - and who knows, maybe you (or they) will find it useful too...
Annie lied the other day.
It was over something silly, but it was still a lie. And though I expect everyone in this house to mess up (myself included) I also expect honesty no matter how hard it is.
To me, there's nothing worse than lying (although Annie reminded me the other day that murder is actually worse than lying. Thank you for the reminder Yans.)
But I knew if I addressed it right then and there that the older kids were going to be late for school so I told her we'd talk about it later.
And that 'later' happened to be in the car while we were parked outside of her school when I reminded her of something I've already said to the kids a bazillion times...That you can't have a relationship without trust and because of that, lying slowly kills even the best of relationships.
But this time when I talked about it, her eyes began to well-up and she asked, "So you wouldn't love me anymore if I lied."
I immediately told her that I'd love her no matter what, but then I began to fumble over my words because I wasn't quite sure how to explain (in 6-year-old words) how a momma can love one of her kids, even if they don't have a close relationship with them - so I changed course all together and said:
"Ok Yans, close your eyes for a minute and pretend you're a full-grown woman and that you just walked out of the front door of your house and hopped in your car - and think hard, because I really want you to picture exactly what that would look like in your head."
And then she said, "But I don't know what I'm going to look like when I'm a grown-up."
And I said, "Open your eyes and look at me really quickly...This is what you're going to look like when you're a grown-up."
So she opened her eyes, giggled and then closed them again quickly.
And I went on, "And pretend that you're driving to my house (our current house) to pick me up for lunch and you're excited - really excited - because you've been busy at work lately and you haven't seen me in over a week and you feel like you have so much to tell me about what's happened in your life since the last time we were together.
And when you pull up in the drive-way, you notice that I'm already waiting out on the front porch for you, because I'm excited too and then we hug each other - but we hug for a really long time - because we don't want to stop hugging."
Annie was smiling at this point with her eyes still closed.
And then I go on to say, "And then we get in your car and you put your hand on my shoulder and you tell me that you you've missed me and then we drive to The Roadhouse for lunch and as the waitress brings us our rolls and honey butter, we immediately start laughing about how much you loved this place when you were a kid and how you used to sing to your dinner rolls as you buttered them."
And I just went on, explaining the whole day in detail and how good it felt to be together and when I came to the part where Annie was dropping me off back at home, she opened her eyes and interrupted to say, "But instead of taking you home, we decided to drive to the ocean and stay the night!" and I said, "Of course we did, because we had a really amazing relationship."
And then she said, "But what if I lie when I'm a grown-up?"
And I told her that we'd still go do stuff together, but on her drive to pick me up, instead of feeling excited, she might be feeling anxious because lies make you anxious and that when she met me on the front porch, we'd still hug, but she'd feel like there was a lie standing between us and because of that, the hug wouldn't feel as good. And we'd still laugh and talk over lunch, but we probably wouldn't share our deepest feelings, because the lies would make us feel like we couldn't.
I told her that it would just be different. That the lies would make it different. That it just couldn't be as good because of the lies.
And though I typically have a tough time knowing when to quit verbally beating a dead horse with life lessons, I knew I didn't need to say anything else, so I patted my leg, which was her cue to unbuckle her seatbelt and to crawl into the frontseat and onto my lap, where we just sat in silence and hugged each other probably longer than we've ever hugged (which is a really long time) just because it felt so good without any lies standing between us.
Answering a few questions from the comments section:
1. You do not need photoshop for the class, as I do not teach editing in the workshop. That said, Erin Cobb spends a week in the forum at the end of the workshop where she helps students fine-tune her Clean Color editing process and either Photoshop CS or Photoshop Elements is required for that. (Participating in this is optional though and purchasing Erin's Clean Color tutorial is an additional fee.)
2. If you'll be gone for any period of time during the workshop, you can download the lessons and the assignment in advance so you can stay on track with the workshop.
Its registration time again...
This registration is for my first workshop of 2013, which runs from January 7th - March 11, 2013 and registration for that class opens up this Monday morning (October 15th) at 9:00 a.m. Pacific time here.
As usual, I'll be opening up both regular seats ($395) and auditing seats ($245) in the workshop. The ONLY difference between regular students and auditing students is that I do not provide evaluations for auditing students. Other than that though, auditors can ask questions, upload assignments for peer evaluation and participate in the workshop just like a regular student.
So auditing seats are ideal for anyone who wants to work at their own pace or save money or for anyone who was unable to snag a seat as a regular student.
I'm taking fewer regular students in all of my 2013 workshops than I have in the past, so keep in mind that those seats will probably fill up quickly.
That said, if you register as a regular or auditing student during Monday's registration, please note that I'm offering a temporary, discounted price for telephone/Skype consults ($75 per consult) that can be scheduled before, during or after the workshop ends (though I think you'd get the most benefit out of scheduling it after the workshop ends) and that consult time can be used for me to review and critique your images and to work through any concepts or problems you're struggling with in your photography.
So the price of auditing ($245 + $75 = $320) is actually $75 less than what it would cost to take the class as a regular student since I'm offering the telephone/Skype consult at this discounted price...and that's $75 that could be put towards a new lens! (And not to push anyone in any particular direction...but consults are my FAVORITE thing to do!)
Oh, and don't forget that one of the bonuses of the workshop is that Erin Cobb spends a week in the forum helping students fine tune her Clean Color editing process (and that's available to both auditing and regular students!)
If you have any questions, please add them to the comments section of this post and/or click here and then at the bottom of the photo, click on 'click here to view a FAQ sheet' and if you're looking for feedback from my past students, there's a whole bunch of links you can check out in the comments section of this post. (I have the best past students you'll ever come across - I truly love them.)
Looking forward to seeing some of your names on my January 2013 class roster!!!
I finished up teaching The Hometown Workshop a few weeks ago (I rented an old house built in the late 1800's and decorated it with my own belongings for a bunch of my past students who flew in from all over the world to stay in - and then for four days, we learned, laughed, cried and ate ridiculous amounts of food.) and when the fun was all over, my house looked like this...
And my front porch looked like this...
And because of the overwhelming mess, my face looked like this...
So I did the only thing I could think to do...I got in my car (which was also a mess) and decided not to come home until bedtime.
And when I picked up the kids from school and told them of my plan, they looked like this...
And so we drove to Ashland and grabbed an early dinner...
And walked around town...
And put up our hair...
That's Courtney's new favorite way to have her hair done. (She asked Cole to take a picture of her so she could see what it looked like in the viewfinder.)
And then we went to the park...
But this one couldn't play until he got his homework done...
And this one played, but with a look on her face that reminded me that the angsty-teenage years are just around the corner...
And this one played...
And played...
And played...
And played some more...
And then we walked to the movie theater, only to find that the movie we wanted to see (The Odd Life of Timothy Green) was actually playing at a different theater across town.
So the four of us sprinted about five or six blocks (Good thing I hadn't broken my leg yet.), hopped in the car, drove across town and made it to our seats just as the movie started. (Its times like those when I'm actually thankful that they play 15 minutes worth of previews.)
And (just as I had planed) it was bedtime when we got home.
I broke my fibula (the smaller of the two lower leg bones) recently.
Courtney Lee had a friend over and us girls decided to go roller-skating while the boys went on a man-date. (They bought a few car magazines from Barnes & Nobles and read them while eating burgers & fries at Jasper's.)
I was quite impressed with my skills at the rink. In fact, while I was skating (backwards mind-you) I was contemplating the fact that somehow, my 20-year roller-skating hiatus had actually made me a much better skater.
And I wish I left the rink with a really cool leg-breaking story to tell, like I broke it playing skate-style Red Light, Green Light (which I played and lost without injury), or doing a triple-axel (like my friend Janine suggested I tell you all), or that I was even skating at all.
Truth be told though, it happened in the snack bar.
The girls mentioned being hungry, so we got a pretzel for Courtney and her friend to split and a nacho for Yans and I in the hopes that it would tide us over until dinner (at Bella Union.)
The nacho was verging on inedible (What does one expect from roller-rink nachos?) so I stood up and rolled over towards the trashcan and that's when it happened...
I felt my legs start to slip out from underneath me and then I saw my arms (along with my half-eaten, nearly-inedible nacho) fly up over my head and next thing I knew, I was laying on the floor of the snack-bar with nacho cheese sauce from head-to-toe and my left leg tucked underneath my body.
And as if that embarrassment weren't enough, within seconds a swarm of 6-12 year olds on roller-skates had encircled me, all of them trying to catch a glimpse of the old lady laying on the floor with nacho-cheese sauce from head-to-toe.
Thankfully, there was a mom though. A lovely, dark-haired mom whom I had exchanged a smile with earlier in the evening who came alongside me to see if I was ok. She told me not to try to get up. She put ice on my leg. She cleaned the nacho cheese sauce off of me. And she held my hand until I could get ahold of someone to come and get me. (Josh has been swamped with work, so he had purposely left his phone inside his truck while he was on his man-date with Cole - so I called my Dad and step-mom instead.)
And then my step-mom took me to the E.R. while my dad went to find Josh and Coley.
And a few hours later (after the best E.R. experience I've ever had - I swear, it was like a stay at a five-star hotel - minus the whole x-ray and gurney thing) I went home in a soft cast, with crutches and a prescription for pain meds.
And now, I'm in a hard cast and on Advil and crutches.
And that means I had a cast that needed decorating (Thanks Nancy for all the colored Sharpie pens you sent the girls.)...
They saved a spot for Josh and Courtney Lee though, who later drew roller-skate wheels and laces onto the bottom of my cast.
Smart-alecks.
