Meet Taylor K, Photographer Extraordinaire! Special Offer for Full of Graces Readers! ~ Jen

It’s that time of year: family pictures.

Thank goodness we have moved beyond the studio portrait, where everyone looks still and plastic. But it’s hard to find a good candid photographer. Which is why I want to introduce you to ours: Taylor. She is a lovely, energetic and accommodating lady from Long Beach. Fear not, Inland Empire and points South: she came to Temecula to shoot us. She’s fabulously mobile.

We booked a Saturday in October, which is a weather crapshoot out here. The temperatures can swing between 50 degrees and 100 degrees in October. I gambled and went with wintery clothes—jeans and jewel tones. It was a gorgeous day at the farm—blue skies and pretty flowers. But it was 86 degrees.

Grumpy kids, sweaty husband and a dusty farm packed with folks two weeks before Halloween.

No problem! Within three minutes of meeting my kids, Taylor had them under her spell. Even Gabe, who is beginning to think he is too cool to smile. We got it all done in 30 minutes. For an outside shoot, that’s amazing.

And our pictures came three days later, in a zip file that we are free to print and use as we see fit. No hassle with packages, sizing, extra cost, etc.

Check these out…

But wait, there’s more: Taylor has generously offered a 20% discount to our readers! All you have to do is “Like” our Facebook page and mention Full of Graces when you book! Woohoo!

Wedding pictures? Family pictures? Christmas pictures? Multi-generational pictures? She’s got you. Just mention us and she’ll hook you up.

She can be found at www.taylor-k.com.

Not in My Village ~ Jen

I really, really believe in the idea that it takes a village to raise a child. Super believe, as Dana would say. I can’t do any of it without help–not raise my kids, tend my marriage or grow my faith. I need help! All the time!

It occurred to me this weekend, as I was reading the hopefully fake story of the Mean Lady in Fargo who was going to hand out shaming letters instead of candy to roly-poly princesses and Pokemons on Halloween, that maybe we need to be more specific in what we mean by village. After all, that lady said in her letter that she was just doing her job as a member of the village.

So here it is: it takes a village, yes. But not Salem village.

In Salem, people parading as good, decent folk used the accusation of witchcraft to punish their neighbors, and make themselves look better. Classic case of deflection: If everyone’s looking at the poor drunk woman in town, no one will notice that I am greedy and mean, even though I sit in the first pew every Sunday and paid for half the church to be built. Nineteen innocent men and women were hanged.

It’s true the devil was afoot in Salem; also that they hung the wrong folks. I wonder what the Mean Lady in Fargo is trying to deflect? Anyone in my village should make me feel better and supported as a mom, not worse and like a failure.

I want Walnut Grove, where Reverend Alden was gentle with his flock and the truth always won. They had their issues there in the Grove, but the issues were always settled with everyone’s dignity intact. Even Nellie’s.

Or how about Avonlea? Anne of Green Gables seemed happy there. Or Concord, MA, where Little Women learned their life lessons. Yes, these are fictional and idyllic. But admirably fictional and idyllic.

In my village, I need god-fearing folk who will live and speak what they believe so that my kids are steeped in the love of God. I need to know that on the day I can’t read that freakin’ Dora book one more time, someone else will do it for me. And if a friendly villager knocks on my door before the 4 pm clean-up, they will judge me by the smile on my face and not the toys on the floor. Or at least believe my story about the 4 pm clean-up.

The neighbors who brought our puppy back when we left her outside? The mom who gently let me know there was more to the story than ours sons were telling us? The friend who reads the Dora book one more time? The couple who offer to watch our kids so we can have a date? Those are my Village People. We have God and we have love and we have each other.

And Mean Lady in Fargo needs to remember that. I have a whole entire village. If my kids ever get a fat letter in their trick or treat bag, we’re going to come for you and love you right out of town.

We know the devil when we see him and we’re not having that Here.

Cosigning

Since we’re clarifying things about ourselves, it’s time for another one. A big one.

We love the truth. Not our perception of it, but the actual Truth. We hold each other and ourselves to a pretty big standard of truth over here, and we have found that the easiest way to do that is to simply not tell lies. So we don’t. Even when it hurts.

But the hard part is not to sign off on other people’s lies. Jen’s cousin, Lesley, calls this co-signing. Like co-signing on a loan:

If you cosign on that loan, you’re not going to get much out of it, no matter what. Your friend or family member is going to get the benefit of the loan. If they choose to stop paying the loan because the business doesn’t work out, that loan is around your neck. If they can’t repay that loan because of an unforeseen accident or something else, that loan is around your neck (www.thesimpledollar.com).

If you substitute lie for loan in that definition you’ll see where we’re coming from. Just as everyone tells people not to co-sign for someone on a loan, we believe that we shouldn’t co-sign for someone else’s lies. You might think, “It’s not my lie. If someone I love wants to live a lie, that’s on them.” But we all pay a price when we participate in lies, either actively or with our silence.

And there are all sorts of lies, folks. There are the big ones like hiding addictions. But then there are the more subtle ones like staying in a toxic relationship and ignoring the consequences.

One of the reasons this is such a big deal to us is that we have both done this work. We have both stepped out of the Nightclub Lighting and taken a good look at ourselves in the harsh light of day. It hasn’t been pretty, and it hasn’t been easy. But here we are, on the other side. And we want to surround ourselves with people who have done the same.

We also want to surround ourselves with people who aren’t going to put up with our crap. If I’m co-signing on your lies, what are you co-signing for me? Are you going to tell me that I have spinach in my teeth, or are you going to let me go back to the office with a big green leaf right in front? Are you going to let me go home with that stranger at the bar, or are you going to stop me and demand that I respect myself better?

In the end, we have made the decision that we just don’t have time for secrets and lies in our lives. Lies, others’ or ours, take a lot of effort and energy to maintain. And you see, we’ve got these great husbands, wonderful kids, and amazing friends that we want to pour all of our love, time, and energy into.

And lies do damage to the liar. We want to be whole daughters of God, not perfect, but living our best lives. Every day.

But be prepared. If you decide to stand for the truth, at some point you have to say the truth. And we have learned that some folks aren’t prepared or willing to hear it. We have both lost a few friendships because of this. We’ve been called a bitch. We’ve been called self-righteous. We’ve been called judgmental. We aren’t trying to be any of these things. We need to stand in the light. We don’t let our sisters sit in the mud. Even when they think they want to sit there.

“We tell lies when we are afraid… afraid of what we don’t know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger.” ~Tad Williams

300

We hit a milestone at Full of Graces this week: 300 followers!

We always meant to be serious about this blog, but writing is such a publicly personal experience that you kind of have to tell yourself you won’t care if no one reads your stuff. When people do read it, and share it, and comment on it, it’s pretty cool. Thanks to everyone who has joined us. We’re glad you’re here.

One unexpected bonus of this journey has been the other bloggers we’ve “met”: food folks and faith folks and fashion folks and just plain nice solid folks. We have prayed and been prayed for, shared recipes, witnessed life changing events. Talk about Grace in our lives! The blog has opened doors across the country and down the road in ways we never anticipated. We are inspired to be better writers and better spirits by these folks, to the extent that shortly we will be adding a blog roll to our home page so they can maybe inspire you as well.

And…we have a surprise. Dana’s mother-in-law is a wizard with a sewing machine. She just recently turned this gift in the direction of little girls dresses. The result has been stunning, handcrafted, boutique quality dresses that will knock your socks off.

Annnnnnnd…we get to give one away!

(Just as soon as we figure out a fair way to do that! Lol.)

So stay tuned. We have BIG things planned! Fall and football and comfort food, just to name a few.

Happy Friday!

Dana and Jen

We’re Coming for You, Ladies

It’s time to tell some truth about Dana and me. I know we come across as level-headed, educated former English teachers. I know we seem calm, cool and collected. Rational. Reflective.

These things are true about us. But not all the way true. Underneath, there’s something else.

Underneath, we are beasts.

It’s a huge part of who we used to be, years and years ago. Before this week, I would have said that we’ve moved on to be kinder, gentler wives and moms. But this week has proved me wrong.

We’ve joined a bootcamp together. And the beasts are back.

Dana says she hasn’t worked out in ten years. I’ve been a bit better than that, but not bootcamp better. This last week we got our butts kicked all over the gym. Lunges across the entire parking lot? Check. Four minute plank? Check. Four sets of one minute suicides? Check and oxygen, please.

It’s ok, though. Because Dana and I used to play some volleyball. The Division I college athlete kind. Our lives for years and years were all about winning or losing. It was our job. We trained every day to beat someone, driven by coaches whose job it was to win, at schools where athletics was the biggest money maker. And she and I are fiercely competitive. We don’t talk about those days in terms of “We beat Notre Dame at home” or “USC had a weaker team that year”. Oh no.

We wiped the floor with Notre Dame in front of their own folks. And USC sucked. I’m leaving out the expletives because we’d like this to be a G-rated blog, but there were lots. And most of them started with an F.

For us, there was no second place. There wasn’t even any second team. Dana played in an NCAA Final Four and knows this better than I do.

There were the winners. And then there was everyone else.

Right now, at the gym, we’re everyone else. The winners are shorter, younger and in better shape than we are. They never played sports in their lives. They whine and complain and crack jokes while they sprint faster and lift heavier weights. They don’t know what we used to be.

They don’t care.

I wish I could say that Dana and I are past all that now. That we’ve grown and are humble and happy to accept tips on form from a woman who put make-up on for a 6 am workout.

But we’re not past it. And we’re going to get them.

Just as soon as we can sit on the toilet without wincing in pain. Raise our arms to blow our hair dry. Lift our babies.

Then we’re coming for you, ladies. You may be faster and stronger now, but not for long. Not. For. Long.

Jen playing for Hofstra University, 1990

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