My Blog

My husband and I were married on August 6, 2004.  At the reception, my maid-of-honor and best friend from high school, stood up and gave a pretty funny speech.  ”Janell,”  she said, “When we were growing up, you were always dreaming of your Mr. Darcy, Cary Grant or Gilbert… And well, you got Brian!”  The room erupted in laughter.

I have always been a dreamer and my best friend was right that night.  I had imagined a romantic leading man-type to come and sweep me off my feet. Sometimes dreams meet reality and there is disappointment.  But sometimes reality is actually better than the dream.

**************************************

It was dark and raining.  It was coming down so hard the rain looked like it was painting on the windshield of my car. I sat there, thinking about going in and wondering what the future would hold.

It was the Fall of 2002.  And I was 21.

I took out a pen and started to write a new letter to “him.”  I had gotten the idea from a book series I had read when I was a teenager.  The main character in the books had written letters to her future husband and stored them under her bed.  Someday, her plan was to give her husband the letters and he’d know her as she was then.  Every time she wrote a letter, she also prayed.  Since the time I was a little girl, I had always been full of romantic notions.  And I (like most people) longed to truly be known.  So the concept resonated with me.  Throughout high school, into college, through heartbreaks, crushes, and fleeting relationships, I had written letters to my future husband.  At first it had felt silly.  But over the years it became comforting and familiar.  It felt like an act of faith to write to someone I couldn’t be sure existed.  But it became much like any journaling, and I found myself instinctively reaching for a pen and paper when I wanted to share something new or exciting with someone I hoped one day would truly care.

So on that evening, in 2002, I wrote a short note about being in that car, waiting for the graduate school orientation to start, wondering when I would meet the recipient of my letters.

Then I got out of my car, walked into the hall and saw him for the first time.  Brian Wood.  He was wearing a black leather jacket and sporting a comb over.

He was not Mr. Darcy.  Not Gilbert.  And definitely not Cary Grant.

Instead, he was himself.  Generous.  Goofy.  Intelligent.  Kind.  Patient.  Good-hearted.  Tender.  Humble but confident.  He didn’t care about the judgement of others.  He loved kids and had a heart for teaching.  He was easy-going.  He loved the Lord.

He was everything I had never known I needed.

There were no trumpets sounding or romantic music serenading us.  And I had no idea Brian would be the man I married.

It took me six months before I even saw him as a potential love interest.  Then after six months of dating, he proposed on Thanksgiving 2003.

We’ve been married 8 years today.  For a wedding gift, I gave him a scrapbook full of all those letters I had written and mementos from our relationship. But those letters and mementos were just a start.

When you marry someone, you don’t have any idea what the years will give you.

In the beginning years of our marriage, we’d take lots of little overnight getaways.  We enjoyed luxury hotels and fancy dinners.  We had a little town home that was perfect for us.  We got a dog on a whim and decided she’d be our baby for awhile.  I got my dream job.  We bought a larger house because we could and we wanted a family.  We bought and sold cars.  We got another dog to keep the first dog company.  We lost pregnancies. I started my own business.  We vacationed in Europe.  We invested in trying to have a family.   When our son finally arrived, we forgot about the pain it took to get there.  We learned why people say “it goes so fast.”  I quit my dream job.  We learned what real sleep deprivation is like.  We lost some of our grandparents.  We lost more pregnancies.  We had another baby.  We had to downsize.

But what’s mattered most isn’t what’s happened to us- how many things we’ve had or lost.  How many trips we could take or not.  Not even what type of home we’ve lived in.  What we’ve found mattered most was that we were in this together- for better or worse.  No going back.  If times got tough, we held onto each other and prayed for strength.  It hasn’t always been easy.  We’ve learned how important being grateful is, because circumstances come and go, years pass by quickly, in the end, you live your life.  And we’re living it together. (For a great message on marriage that really inspired us, click here.  It’s the message from July 1st).

Today, we woke up- our eyes glazed over from a rough night.  The room was hot and our 9 month-old daughter was up every couple of hours from 11pm on.  Our 3 year-old son was up and ready to go at 5:30 this morning.  We barely had time to wish each other a “Happy Anniversary” as we rushed around trying to brush teeth, change diapers, and Brian headed out the door.  Hopefully we’ll have a little date tonight thanks to my folks and a Christmas gift certificate we’re finally redeeming.  Maybe I’ll even be romantic and try to write him a letter.  Or just read him my blog.

Someday, my children will grow up and hopefully fall in love.  I hope at least one is a dreamer like their mother, because dreams are great things. But I also hope they don’t forsake a beautiful reality for those dreams.

Marrying Brian was one of the best decisions I ever made.  These 8 years have been the best of my life.   I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I am thankful he gave up the comb-over.   I’m also thankful God gave me Brian Wood and not Cary Grant.

When I was a little girl I thought I would grow up to be a writer.  I wanted to tell stories.

Today, I’m a photographer.  And I’m still trying to tell stories.  The stories I like to tell the most involve women.  Because I am a woman.

Here’s a story I’ve been working on (the details change from time to time, but the plot stays the same):

*********************

She is tired.  Busy.  Crazy busy.  There is time for her boss.  Time for her family.  Time for her friends.  Time for everyone else.  But the last time she took time for herself- she can’t remember.

But then one day, she lets her best friend talk her into a photo shoot.  ”What kind of photo shoot is it?”  She asks.  And her friend smiles, “It’s a glam session.”  And she says, “What the heck is that?”  And her friend laughs, “We’re gonna get pretty and get our pictures taken.”  And she says, “I’m not skinny enough for that.”  And her friend says, “C’mon.”

A couple weeks later, she is looking at herself in the mirror, noticing every flaw , every wrinkle, every bulge.  How did she get roped into this?  She glances at the bag of clothing she brought- a smorgasbord of dresses and gasp, lingerie. Suddenly she feels a wave of insecurity come over her and she can’t believe that even at her age, she can still feel so critical of herself.

She and her friend enter a room.  An inviting room.  And in this room are women who are there to make them look and feel beautiful.  And they talk in soothing tones and ask about her life.  And she thinks, these girls are good.  And for awhile she lets loose and enjoys the pampering.  She talks about her life.  She laughs with her friend.  And she eats and drinks and is merry for awhile.  An hour goes by and she looks at herself in the mirror.  The women and her friend tell her how beautiful she looks.   And she knows she looks good.  She steps into the changing room to put on a dress.  She feels more confident now.  She can do this.

But as soon as the photographer pulls that camera out, all the sudden she goes numb.  OMG.  She is not a model.  Heck no.  But the photographer tells her how to move, how to hold her face, how to shift her weight, where to stand.  The photographer is kind but bossy.  She won’t let her get a word in edgewise.  And at first she wonders how what she’s doing could possibly look good.  But then her negative self-talk is replaced with the business of listening to the photographer’s voice.  Move here.  Do this.  Stretch that.  Mirror me.  This goes on for several minutes.  Then it’s her friend’s turn.

By her third outfit, she is enjoying herself.  She is used to the photographer’s direction.  She is feeling good.  She is even wearing the lingerie.  She didn’t think she’d wear that!  Her best friend is having a good time too.  All the way home they talk about their experience.  How the men in their life will react when they see them that way.  They decide to go out to dinner since they are already dressed up and feeling good.

And then she sees one photo the photographer posts to FB.  Just one.  A photo of herself that makes her go, “WOW.”  And everyone (and their mothers) are saying so too.  ”Dang girl!  You got it going on!”  And suddenly, she can’t get that image out of her mind.  That was her.  That IS her.  And she is beautiful.

A couple weeks later, she gets to see all of her finalized images.  And she relives that moment of realizing she’s physically lovely.  And she thinks more women should do this- for their significant others, in part.  But mostly for themselves. Like a wise woman, she knows her self-worth is not about what she sees in the mirror.  But like most every woman, she wants to be attractive, desirable, and admired.  And so she allows herself to freely be all those things.  And it feels good.

********************

WoodMoore Photography, together with Melissia Millan Designs and Korrine Claxton’s make-up artistry invite you and a friend to make this your story.  Because every woman should be able to look at a picture of themselves and go, “WOW.”  And it’s a gift he’ll never want to put away.

A $700 session for two includes hair, makeup, your personalized photo shoot, follow-up session and a gift print for each of you.