church

You gotta have faith

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The sweetest little church in Charleston, SC. Incidentally, my parents are tucked in for eternity right here.

If I am being honest, I struggle with faith. I have been an anxious person my whole life, waiting for the worst to happen. I have struggled with knowing I will be okay, despite all the signs that point DIRECTLY to my okayness.

Trust and faith go hand in hand. You have to be sure of something. So sure of it that you don’t even need to see it. Convicted. Assured. You don’t even need evidence or hard numbers. Just a willingness to believe it’s so.

As I age, those hard facts seem a little more visible and I have lost my sense of control I want over the outcome of every detail. I learned to listen to my “gut” and just trust myself - the person who lead me to some of the best and worst decisions I have made in my life…maybe the history of time. And despite some events in my recent years shaking me to my actual core and challenging every belief I have, I still manage to find a little trust in myself not to mess everything up.

What has helped me find this calmness and trust in the past 10 years is a combination of stillness, writing, and routine. Whenever things feel off, I resort back to these small rituals that feel good to me. Those simple things that keep me simultaneously grounded and in touch with myself as well as in touch with the universe.

Now, moving forward, things feel different. As it turns out, I do have FAITH. Faith in what’s to come and what has been. Faith in myself and those around me. Faith in my mistakes and mishaps as well as my triumphs. Faith that the greater good is really going to happen. I am leaning into trusting my faith in all things to get me through.

So for now, I will embrace this faith - this blind trust in the universe and all it has to offer me. Because honestly, for the most part, faith in myself hasn’t really failed me yet.

Your Landmark

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A few weeks ago now, I was on a shoot out of town and decided I was going to make a stop on my way home at these old church ruins that are a historic landmark here in South Carolina. It's something I have always wanted to see for many reason. The Old Sheldon Church ruins still stand today after getting torched/gutted twice over the course of history. What remains is a historic landmark - a time marker for us to only imagine what things were like then.

I mentioned to a friend that I was going to stop here and his prompt response was "good luck...that's the most over photographed place in the area. And I have never really seen a photo that does it justice." No pressure. Just a reminder that there would be no way I could do the place justice photographically. It's not my job or anything....

As I approached the grounds with minor photographic trepidation , I sized up this spot to see if I could, in fact, do it any justice. History buffs reading placards, families photographing their holiday cards, couples on engagement shoots, and art school girls working on a project were all scattered around the historic grounds trying to get in their shot, making it difficult for all of us to get in anything decent without existing in their photograph forever. I shuffled behind columns and into corners to avoid being a photobomber in someone's Christmas card this year. I certainly didn't want to be commemorated in an engagement shoot of someone I didn't know.

When I finally stopped worrying about how I was going to actually get the shot, I stepped into the space and really started letting myself think about the place. I immersed myself in the experience (which, by the way, is what any good photographer tries to do). I wondered what it was like in the 1700s sitting in a service there in the middle of August, sweat dripping from the minister's chin as he preached about hellfire and damnation. I thought about families draped in their holiday best coming to remember their Lord and Savior for Christmas service on a chilly winter day. I thought about the pews and the people and how they must have even gotten there. What was the Lowcountry like back then? Especially so far out of the way of everything? How did they dress? Was it hot inside? Did the windows open? Was there somewhere for a fire on chilly days?

When I found myself immersing myself in this story is when I realized something: it really didn't matter what my picture looked like. I was here, thinking...wondering...filling in gaps. I wasn't taking this photo for anyone but me. I wasn't going to sell it or get it published or have it lauded in any way. What it was, for me, as most photographs really are, was a record of a moment I was spending there. It was a memory...and just like this landmark served as a historic spot for people to commemorate something, so would this photo.

Photos are just that. They are visual landmarks of time. Go through the Facebook albums of any close friend and that's what they are. Are they always great? Probably not to you. But maybe to the person who took them. They are special memories created for you, by you to remember life. That's all a photograph is in it's raw essence.

Each one of us were there to capture our own memories - or those of someone who wanted the moment captured for them (the reason you hire a photographer is you need something done that you can't do on your own.). Each one of us were clicking away on our phones and mirrorless cameras and DSLRs for our own purposes – just like every photo we take. They are ultimately for the person who takes them.

So stop worrying if your photo is okay. It's okay. It's just what it was meant to be: Your memory. Your milestone. Your landmark.