My Mom is one of the hardest working people I know.

She’s a nurse. A job I could never do. I faint. She doesn’t. It’s a good quality to have as a nurse.

My Mom lives on a farm with my step-father. When she isn’t working as a nurse, she is taking care of her miniature horses, her goats, the cows, and the barn kittens. She is helping saw lumber at their small saw mill. She is sewing and taking on house project after project. She is teaching Sunday school. She is working in the garden. She is in the hayfield.  She is baking.

She listens to the K-Love radio station. I make fun of her for it, and always promise to burn her some CDs of better music.  Sometimes it’s southern gospel on the radio. I remember mornings of coming downstairs sleepy eyed into the kitchen and Mom would be cooking breakfast and singing, “My cup runneth over so I’ll drink from my saucer”.  Or something like that.

I used to think that we were nothing alike. Mom could care less about shellac manicures or the latest eye liner trend. I could go into debt in Sephora alone. She’s never colored her hair. I don’t ever NOT color mine. She is content on the farm, and I long for adventure.

But we are more alike than I ever thought.

I have her laugh. I have the shape of her face. She taught me how to be content. She taught me how satisfying the outdoors can be. She taught me that family comes first. Somewhere along the way, I have found her love for the kitchen and bake when I need to relax too. We both will drive over an hour for the good coconut ice cream cones in the summer. Because let’s face it, it’s coconut. She taught me how to be a mother, long before I even am one. I love children like she does.

Mom is always up first. Before anyone. Sitting in her bathrobe by the big kitchen wood stove with her bible. Every morning.

I am thankful.

For the lessons, for the example, for the honesty, for the integrity, and yes, even the gas money to make it home when needed.

For the time you grounded me for lying about wearing red lipstick to school in the fourth grade. For the time you told me that purple suede mini skirt was in fact too short to wear to the school dance. For the time you gave up on teaching me how to change a tire and just bought me an AAA Platinum membership instead. For the times you took me shopping and spent money you didn’t have, just so I could have the same brand of sweater everyone else did in my class. For all the afternoons you forced me to play outside,  building forts and riding my bike instead of watching TV. For the thousands of dollars spent at the orthodontist. For the Easter basket every year in college. For dragging me to church when I cried.

For being my number one fan.

I thank you. I am so grateful to call you my  Mom. 

My Mother and Grandmother

Happy Birthday Mom. I love you. 

Not only did it LITERALLY take three airport workers to get me through security successfully, they only had a DUNKIN DONUTS. No starbucks. At which point I really couldn’t decide what caused me more anxiety. The packing, getting through the security, or the fact that I actually didn’t get to have real coffee for my flight. My 2 HOUR MORNING flight. Oh friends. It was not a good scene.

So then there’s the airplane. For some reason. When the flight attendants run through their “just in case” speech, I can’t help but expect it to turn into a SNL skit. Deep down I keep secretly hope that I will get on a plane and Amy Poehler and Tina Fey will be my flight attendants. I mean. I just think it would be the best flight. ever.

When we take off on the runway, I find myself utterly fascinated every time that the plane flies.  In the air. Like someone had this idea of flying. They said let’s make an airplane so people can travel all over the world. But not on a road. In the air. Like a bird.

Ok so I am sure their dream was a little more detailed than that, but it was still at one time just a dream. An idea. A what if.

And I took a few minutes to appreciate that. To appreciate that this creative God of ours created us in His image, and we in turn are creative people. Creativity comes from the Creator of the creative. And He is so wonderful.

Here’s a glimpse into my sunset family session with the amazing Stott family yesterday. I admit to getting a little facebook sneak peak happy late last night. I was over the moon excited to show them off. Can’t wait to show them all to you. Here’s one of my favorites.

A mother daughter connection portrait. Love.

I’m off to explore a bit more of Oregon today.

Happy Tuesday!

there are moments…..

and there are relationships….

A unique connection with another….

that is irreplaceable.

The time you told your dad that the only prince you wanted to marry was him.

Your sister who never saw eye to eye with you, who you now cannot live without.

The woman who understands you most, that treasured best friend.

The day you said “I do” to the man of your dreams.

Your daughter who you see more of yourself in each and every day.

Or the love that keeps growing…year after year.

Moments like these….

Relationships like these…

Connections like these…..

Are Irreplaceable.

Connection Portraits By Tiffany Farley.

New Brand Launching Soon.

To schedule a session like the ones you see above, I am now booking July.