Posed

I had a sort of an epiphany recently.  Well, it was an epiphany for me!  I'm not sure I can even say this in a public forum, but I am going to anyway...


I like posed photography.


There it is.  That wasn't so hard.  I might even be able to say it without my heart rate climbing this time...


I like posed photography.


That isn't such a big deal, you say?  Well, in a world where professional portrait photography is rapidly changing to a journalistic style, it is a huge deal!  Take a few minutes to surf the web.  Look through the Facebook albums of your friends.  Check out some wedding blogs.  Then come back and tell me it isn't a big deal ... posed photography for anything other than portfolio head shots and elementary school pictures is on its way out.


But I like it.  As a matter of fact, I favor it!  I have a wall in my home that is covered with my favorite pictures of my kids as they were growing up.  There are some pictures of our little family and our extended family up there, too.  The other day, I was laying on my couch looking at all of the sweet faces of the people that mean the most to me and that was when it hit me!  


I like posed photography!  


I don't just like it, I love it!  I like to be able to see the faces of the people who are being photographed.   I like being able to see their smiles or their frowns, their wrinkles or their baby soft skin.  I like knowing the color of their eyes, whether striking blue or chocolate brown.  I like the "windows" in large group photos that allow me to see every single face.  I like the coordinated outfits and the ridiculous matching dresses that I used to make my daughters wear.   I even like the occasional cheesy smile that says, "I do not want to be here but I'm gonna smile so that my mom will let me go change out of these silly clothes..."  


Don't get me wrong.  I love the unposed, candid style of portraits, too.  Those portraits have incredible personality!  You simply can't replace the emotion that is captured when a person doesn't know he is in the spotlight.  I have boxes and boxes of prints and thousands of digital files of pictures taken when my children are participating in their favorite activities and are unaware that the lens is pointed in their direction.  I love looking through those albums and remembering the things we have done together.  But those aren't the ones that are hanging on my wall.  Maybe they should be, but they're not. I always hang the ones of them staring straight into the camera, front and center, with no depth of field at all.  They would be laughed out of any photography competition for their terrible composition and lack of creativity!  These are the latest photos of my children that grace my wall:

This has been on my mind a lot lately.  Afterall, I am a photographer.  And if I tend towards the poorly composed, uncreative portraits of my family, how good can I really be?  I have questioned my abilities for a long time, always wondering if I am good enough to be paid for my work.  I love what I do, but do I do what I love?  I have analyzed and agonized over this dilemma for quite sometime!  I have spent hours pouring over my work, from the photos I took as a beginner nearly 10 years ago to the ones taken within the past few days.  I have been my own worst critic, but I think I am finally learning a lesson that I should have learned many years ago.


I am who I am and my photography is what it is.  As a college student, I spent a lot of time trying to create images that looked the way my professors wanted them to look.  I copied the photography and editing styles of some of the master photographers out there, trying to improve and become what my instructors wanted me to be.  After I left school, I began studying the styles of other photographers and did what they were doing.  I would plan for hours what I was going to do on a shoot, trying to make sure that I was prepared for all kinds of poses with props and lights and ladders.  I have taken literally hundreds of pictures during every session I have ever done.  But as I look back over my work, the best shoots are the ones that I was completely unprepared to execute.  When my life was out of control, I had no time to plan, and I was force to do what came naturally, my work was fabulous!  When I went into a session armed with nothing but my camera and my creativity, the images became beautiful memories.  


Interestingly enough, I still prefer the posed images.  I guess my "style" is somewhat traditional.  I like to know who the picture is of and what they looked like on the day it was taken.  And I am finally comfortable with that.  That is not to say that I won't ever take a candid again, but there is a sense of freedom in discovering what I like and why I like it!  


In honor of my new discovery, I am revamping my photography business.  It will have a new name, a new look and a style all my own.  I'm pretty excited about it!  It will take a few weeks to get my website/blog up and running, but I'm working on it and can't wait to share it with all of you.  Those of you who are familiar with my work and my prices will see some subtle changes, but I'm still me.  The difference is that I have finally figured out who that is!  So with JOY I announce that...

I LIKE POSED PHOTOGRAPHY!


And with pleasure I introduce you all to ...   


Sandra Jean Photography!  (coming soon)

Perfection Pending...

If there is one thing I have learned in life, it is this:


Sometimes, things work out just like you planned.
Sometimes, they don't.
It is as simple as that.


That doesn't mean that I find it easy to cope when things don't work out but I'm beginning to realize that there is nothing I can do to change those disappointing moments in life.


Take Sunday afternoon, for instance.  I was in charge of a fireside for the youth in my ward.  (A fireside is an informal church meeting where an invited guest speaks or leads a discussion on an assigned topic.  A ward is a congregation in the LDS church.)  The guest speaker was invited and ready to go, an announcement was made to the youth and their parents about time and location, all that was needed were refreshments.  


There is a joke about Mormons and refreshments...


Q:  "How many Mormons does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
A:  "3.  One to change the bulb and 2 to serve refreshments."


Ha ha, right?  The point is that refreshments are a major part of the LDS society.  They have nothing to do with the doctrine of the church, but if you didn't know better, you might think they were the basis upon which our church was founded.  Thus, a fireside without refreshments may as well be cancelled.


Anyway, I was in charge of this fireside.  Everything had been taken care of except the refreshments.  Not a big deal.  I can make treats for 60 people with my hands tied behind my back.  What shall we make for the fireside, I asked my kids when we got home from church that afternoon?  The general consensus was it needed to be 'cinnamony.'  The obvious choice was cinnamon rolls.  I had the ingredients, my yeast was brand new, no problem.


Four hours later, it became evident that there was a major problem...the rolls weren't rising.  I don't know why.  This seems to happen to me every time there is a deadline and I try to bake something with yeast.  I proofed it before I started and it was fine.  But 2 hours before my fireside, I still had flat cinnamon rolls.  I wasn't happy.  After much ranting and raving, I decided to simply bake them and see what happened.  Maybe they would rise in the hot oven.


They didn't.  And now it was only an hour and a half until show time.


Ok, I thought.  I'll bake brownies.  I pulled out my brownie mixes (thanks to Couponsense) and mixed them up.  Oops.  I didn't have any oil.  I used it all in the cinnamon rolls.  More ranting and raving.   Why does this always happen to me?  The last time I was in charge of making the fireside refreshments, I baked bundt cakes that fell apart when I dumped them out of the pans.  I wasn't happy that time, either.


So, with less than an hour left until the fireside was supposed to begin, I went to Albertsons and bought ice cream.  I just have to tell you that this went against every belief I have about keeping the Sabbath day holy, which only made me more angry.  But in the end, that was what I did.  I went to the fireside, made Oreo Cookie Shakes for 60 people and no one was the wiser that I had spent my Sunday afternoon in extreme anger and frustration.


So, why do I share this with you?  Mostly because it has been on my mind all day.  I'm a perfectionist, and since I feel like I failed, this entire episode is going to roll around in my mind until I drive myself crazy!   But through the craziness, I am learning a lesson.  I probably won't remember the lesson when I actually need to,  but right now it seems rather clear to me.


It is OK not to be perfect.  (I am hyperventilating just from writing the words...)  


I know, it is a difficult concept to swallow.  But hold on to your seats because there is even more...


Not only is it OK not to be perfect, but that is part of this experience we call life.  And life isn't perfect either!  (Hyperventilating again!!)


As I look back at my Sunday afternoon, there are many changes I wish I could make:  


**  I wish I would have served those dense cinnamon rolls, those low-fat brownies or served no refreshments at all.  Firesides are not supposed to be about the refreshments!  Maybe that would have been a good reminder for everyone in attendance.


**  I wish I could learn to be patient when things don't turn out the way I expected.  Unfortunately, patience is not one of my virtues! 


**  I wish I could learn to laugh at the imperfect situations in this life in the moment they are happening.  Hindsight is a great thing!  It allows us to look back and see things in a different light...but wouldn't it be great to be able to see things in that same light as they are actually happening?  It would certainly get rid of a lot of negative energy in my house!


**  I wish I didn't feel like I have to be perfect in dealing with my church responsibilities.  In a religion that teaches constantly about the atonement of Jesus Christ and His ability to make up for our the imperfections in this world, why do I feel that I have to go to extremes to make everything perfect?  I know I'm not alone in this problem...and I'm also pretty sure that perfection in all areas is not an expectation  of the Lord.  At least not in this lifetime!


I recently read an article entitled, "Perfection Pending", by Elder Russell M. Nelson.  It was a great reminder that if I want to find joy in my journey, I have to seek it in every situation, not just the ones that automatically bring it about.  He says this: 


"We all need to remember: men are that they might have joy—not guilt trips!  ... We need not be dismayed if our earnest efforts toward perfection now seem so arduous and endless. Perfection is pending ... It awaits all who love Him and keep his commandments ... It is the end for which we are to endure.  It is the eternal perfection that God has in store for each of us. "  (Ensign, November 1995, italics added)


Perfection is the end result.  It is our eternal destiny.  If we were meant to be perfect here, we would have been born as adults who knew everything and could execute it all perfectly.  But instead, we were born as completely helpless infants who are learning and growing each day so that at some point, in some other lifetime, we can become perfect beings. 


Life happens.  We can't control it.    No matter how much ranting and raving we do, no matter how angry or frustrated we get , no matter how hard we try to be perfect, we are going to fail at some things!  It is part of life.  It is part of the growing process.  There must be opposition - good and bad, light and darkness, righteousness and evil - so that we can learn from the difficulties of life.  We can't control the world around us, only how we react to those situations, both good and bad, that arise.


So, when my children are making messes or my husband is late, when my drain gets clogged or the milk gets spilled, when my car breaks down or my computer crashes, when the yeast goes bad or I run out of oil, I hope I can remember this lesson:  The world is not perfect and neither am I.  We aren't meant to be perfect!  God only expects us to do our best, to be patient in our imperfections, and most importantly, to remember that people are more important that things.  If we can do that, we are well on our way to that grand gift of Eternal Life!


I hope that in heaven, my cinnamon rolls always rise.  But for now, I'm just trying to remember that PERFECTION IS PENDING!

Married to an Old Man

I hate to admit it, but it is true...I am married to an old man!  I'm not sure how it happened.  One day, it just hit me!  My husband is almost 50!  I realize, of course, that being married to an old man means that I am getting to be an old woman, but that doesn't change the fact that I am married to an old man!  Weird!

I must say that if I have to be married to an old man, I couldn't have picked a better one.  He is kind and gentle with me and my children.  He is completely selfless, always putting the needs of his family above his own needs.  He is compassionate and hard-working and funny and playful and romantic and patient and ... the list goes on and on.  I'm not saying all of this just because it's his birthday and I want to make him feel good.  It's true.  Jim is truly the most charitable person I have ever known.  The fact that he has remained married to me for almost 24 years is proof of that.  If I ever grow up, I want to be like him someday!

So happy birthday, Old Man!  I love you more than words can tell!

Law and Order

This past week, my mailbox has yielded not one, not two, but 6 high school graduation announcements.  I love sharing in the joy of my teenage friends and family.  They are amazing and so much more prepared to meet the world than I was at their age.  I am thoroughly impressed with the youth I associate with each day.  They seem to really know what they want in life and are headed in the right direction to get it.  Their excitement and dreams have had me reflecting on my own high school graduation.

When I left high school behind, I was ready to conquer the world...or so I thought.  I decided early on in my life that I was going to be a lawyer -- a women's rights lawyer specializing in representing abused women and children.  I wanted to be sure that law and order was carried out and enforced for those unfortunate enough to be abused or neglected.  I envisioned myself changing the world one case at a time.  Anyone who knows me well is aware of my ability to argue until I win, so this profession wasn't much of a stretch.  My father, however, had different plans for me.  From the time I was very young, I was tutored in music.  I learned to play 6 different instruments and when I graduated from high school, I was offered 3 music scholarships to 3 different universities.  

I turned them all down.

I didn't want to be a musician.  I wanted to be a lawyer.  I never even told my father about the scholarships for fear that he would force me into accepting one of them.  Had I shared the information, he may have explained to me that I could accept a music scholarship and still major in law, but that's beside the point.  It's not what I did.  I turned down the scholarships, remained at home, and began taking classes at the local community college.  My plan was to attend the college for 2 years, transfer to a university to finish my bachelor's degree and then pursue my dream of becoming a lawyer.  I hoped to be accepted to the J. Reuben Clark Law School at BYU, but I was willing to go wherever I needed to go to accomplish my goals.  I figured that around the age of 27 I'd be ready to start dating and maybe get married by the time I was 30.  I had some medical problems that were supposed to prevent me from having children so I wasn't too worried about putting off a family.  I could adopt when I was ready to become a mother.

I graduated from high school in May of 1986 and started working on my plan.  On Friday, February 13, 1987,  just 9 months after my graduation, I met Jim, my future husband.  We were married on October 9 of that same year.  

That's ok, I thought.  When it is right, it's right!  I still believed that I couldn't have children so it wasn't a problem to go ahead with my plans as a married woman.  I could still be successful, and maybe even more so, with my husband by my side!

Two weeks later, I was pregnant.

I must say that this was a bit of a surprise.  I had been told since I was 14 years old that I would probably never have children of my own.  I had come to accept that.  When Jim and I married, it was with the understanding that we would have to adopt when the time came that we wanted to start a family.  That was part of the plan.  But the plan didn't seem to be going ... as planned!  So after the initial shock of having a pregnancy test come back positive, we were thrilled!  Putting aside my plans to become a lawyer so that I could become a mother instead was not a difficult choice.  I assumed that I would go back to school once my baby started school.  Afterall, this pregnancy was a miracle and it was even less likely that I would be able to conceive again.

When my daughter was 1 year old, I found out that I was pregnant again.  It was literally a medical miracle!  Again, I was thrilled to be blessed with another child, but the plans I had so carefully laid began to unravel.   Law school with 2 children didn't seem likely for me.  I wanted to raise my daughters myself, not leave them in the care of someone else so that I could pursue a career.  But watching those dreams drift away was more difficult than I could have imagined. 

Within a few short years, babies 3, 4 and 5 joined our family.  I loved every single one of them and realized the miracle that they were, but each new addition seemed to push my own goals further out of my reach.  To compensate, I became very active in the communities we lived in: serving on PTSO boards, volunteering in classrooms, teaching music lessons, enrolling in college courses, creating my own business, teaching seminary, occasionally holding down a job outside of my home and putting in countless hours of work for my church callings.  I have been known as "The Perpetual Volunteer" and have been told repeatedly that I am the busiest stay-at-home-mom anyone has ever seen.  

And through it all, there has been a constant a desire to somehow go back to school to study for that law degree that I dreamed of so many years ago...

Every new course or calling or commitment was always the one that was going to bring about peace and happiness in my life.  It was going to be the thing that finally satisfied my sense of accomplishment.  It was going to make up for the fact that, even with all of my dreams and ambitions,  I was just a "stay-at-home-mom."  But nothing ever seemed to satisfy.

About a year ago, I decided to find a full time job.  Due to the economy, we needed the extra income and with my youngest child moving on to junior high, it seemed like the perfect time to begin a career outside my home.  A good friend hired me to work for her medical billing company in July of last year and so it began!  I was excited for another new adventure and I learned my responsibilities quickly.  I was proficient at my job.  The clients loved me and my boss was pleased, too.   I enjoyed being in the working world and getting acquainted with other women my age.  It was a new experience to talk to adults about adult concerns all day, instead of being inundated with issues involving children.  I should have loved it!  I should have finally been satisfied!  I should have been thriving!  But I wasn't.

This was not a new feeling for me.  It's actually happened a lot during this journey I'm on.  I'm a very religious person and each time I begin to feel uneasy with my life, I turn to the Lord to see what He has in mind for me.  I have done it time and again through the years, always getting the same answer: what I am doing is not the right thing for me.  Usually when I get that answer, I quit what I am doing and begin searching for something else, something that will satisfy the longing that I seem to feel.  But this time, I was fed up with it all!  I feel like I have tried everything!  Volunteering, teaching, worshiping, studying, working ... the list goes on and on!  I am sick of starting over only to discover that the new thing I am doing isn't any better than the last thing I tried.  So I didn't quit my job.  

I began searching, searching for an answer that would finally bring peace.  I asked the Lord over and over again what He wanted me to do.  I'm pretty obedient ... you tell me to do something, and as long as I know it is coming from a trustworthy source, I'll do it.  So I asked.  I waited.  I searched.  I pleaded.  I listened.  I  medicated.  I begged.  I prayed.  I pondered.  I listened some more.  And finally, I began to understand.  

I do not share this lightly and I share it as an answer only for me.  But I finally understand that my place is in my home.  As I look back at all of the places I have been, all of the things I have done and all of the people I have helped, I realize now how much I have missed.  My children are grown.  Those 2 precious daughters that initially kept me from getting that law degree are married and starting families of their own.  My sons are in high school, just a year or two from their own graduations.  And my youngest daughter is more interested in texting and make-up and boys than she is in me.  In my pursuit of happiness, I missed the greatest source of joy available to me.   All of those meetings, all of those lessons, all of those hours of study, all of the time spent with clients ... all of that was just a distraction.  

So I quit my job.  But this time, I'm not looking for other things to do.  I don't have a lot of time left with children in my home, but what time I do have is going to be spent helping them.  I wish I could go back.  I'd say no to so many of the commitments that I made.  I'd attend every concert and every swim meet in spite of my church callings.  I'd study with my children instead of trying to study on my own.  I never would have started that in-home business that took me out of my home so often.  I would have spent more time baking cookies and letting them do the decorating.  I'd have spent more time listening to the talk about friends and less time lecturing about how to be a friend.  I'd have spent more time watching Barney with my kids and less time complaining about the songs.  My kids are great!  They are talented and smart and obedient!  I couldn't have asked for a better family!  But I have to wonder how much better they would be if I had realized 20 years ago what I have just realized today.  The law and order I should have been most worried about establishing was the law and order in my own home.  The neglected children I should have been defending were the ones to whom I gave birth.  I could have been fulfilling my life's dream right here, within the walls of my own home.  

David O. McKay once said, "No other successes can compensate for failure in the home."  He was right.

My Journey to Joy

Many years ago, as a mother of 2 young daughters, I came across a book entitled, "A Joyful Mother of Children," by Linda Eyre.  As I stood in the BYU Bookstore staring at that book, I was overwhelmed with emotion.  Just the title made me want to laugh, then cry, then pick up the book and throw it across the store, all at the same time.  It seemed somewhat like a cruel joke.  At that point in my life, the word 'joy' didn't even exist in my vocabulary.  And it certainly didn't come close to describing the emotions that I was experiencing every day as a mother of 2 young children.  Depressed, maybe.  Overwhelmed, definitely.  But joy, NEVER!

Just to clarify, I never read the book...never even cracked open the cover.  I don't have any idea what it is about.  But that little phrase got me thinking.  A joyful mother of children.  I thought about it a lot.  A joyful mother of children.  I started watching women around me who were in similar situations. Were they joyful?  Was it actually possible to be 'a joyful mother of children?'  Up to that point in my life, I had experienced very little joy but as I watched and contemplated others, I began to think maybe something was wrong with me.  Maybe I was missing something.

Since that day more than 20 years ago, I have been on a quest to find joy.  It has been a slow and difficult journey, but rewarding in more ways than I can count.  There have been countless people to help me along the way...some who pushed or pulled me down the path, others who called encouragement from further ahead and, maybe most importantly, those who just held my hand and walked beside me.  Without them, I would have quit climbing long ago.

This blog is about my journey.  Not so much about the journey of my past, although I may share those experiences occasionally, but more about the journey I continue each day.  I warn you...I am not one to sugar coat my experiences.  They are real and shape who I am.  Some may be funny.  Others will be ugly.  But most will be beautiful expressions of gratitude for the joy I am finding as "A Joyful Mother of Children."  It seems that now is my time for rejoicing!  Maybe I'll even read that book...