Naples Family Photographer


I have to admit, when I was compiling images for this post I started to tear up. 


It's kissing away boo-boos and wiping messy cheeks. Spinning littles around and around and up in the air to hear them giggle and shout 'again!'. It's straightening the superman cape, and pouring an extra glass of milk. Changing diapers, supporting their newborn necks and countless loads of tiny laundry. It's holding them in the hospital bed rejoicing in the miracle of their life, and praying before their surgery that the Lord would give you strength. It's taking adventures, reading stories and answering endless 'why?' questions.  It's straightening the veil and threading the needle to hem the gown, pinning the boutonniere and taking photos of the first dance through joyful tears. It's saying no and it's letting go. It's restless nights and so many moments of hoping you got it right. It's so much more. Beyond words, really. 
It's always and forever, up to the moon and back, all-consuming, hard-as-hell, deepest of the deep and miraculous.



I whipped the cream as the buttery crust baked in the oven.  After dinner, their little fingers excitedly arranged the freshly picked strawberries on top (sneaking a little taste here, and an extra strawberry there.) 

We gathered around the table and Daniel asked, "who do we have to thank for this pie?"  Immediately the children answered, "Mommy!"
"Yes!," he said. but then pressed further: "And who else?"
After thanking themselves for picking the berries and helping assemble the pie, 
"The farmer who grew the strawberries!" said one,  "Anya who gave us the recipe!", said another.
"And ..." Daniel continued, "who made the strawberry, and the rain that watered it, and the sun that fed it? and the cow that gave us the cream for the filling and the butter for the crust?"
"God!"They both shouted! 

There is nothing like gathering a crop fresh from the earth to help you appreciate the incredible miracle food is and the many hands and hearts that help us fill our tables with sustenance and stories.

Writer and professor Norman Wirzba says that "Food is God's love made delicious," and I don't think you need to eat much more than a ripe strawberry picked right from the patch - or maybe a slice of Anya's strawberry pie - to know that this is true. 



My deep appreciation for photography began when our oldest daughter was born over 7 years ago.   I watched with awe and amazement as she grew;  the subtle and unnoticeable shifts that somehow turned the baby who would sleep curled up on my chest into a toothy toddler eager to explore everything around her.  Since those days, I've taken thousands of images of my children, and sadly many of them have grown dusty in stored away digital folders on my computer.  With a renewed hope to better document my own family I have decided to embark on the simple challenge of sharing more of my personal images and the stories behind them here in this space. And so without much further explanation, here I will begin.

This past week Jon came down with the flu. Somehow the rest of the family managed to escape its grip, but our poor boy was laid up for a week with a low-grade fever and lots of time in bed. One of the small comforts he found was in taking warm bubble baths in the big bathtub while playing with his collection of tiny dinosaurs.