Dawn Photo Co
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A photo + video team freezing time for the finite.🦋
Bearing images 🖼️ for image bearers since 2015
01/22/2025
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12/06/2022
Lubbock Families!
We have opened up a couple of dates around Christmas where our photographer will come to YOU to get some family photos while your families are gathered this year. 
We know this is a rare time of year when families gather- and we decided to give the opportunity to have some sweet memories made right where you are!
Here is the link to choose your date and time on
12/23 or 12/26!
Great for:
Large or small families, couples, anyone!
Front or back porch photos, dress up or stay in Christmas pjs. We can do as many groupings as you have time for. It’s a great way to capture this holiday season with the people you love! (We can shoot wherever you want (outside/ inside) but keep in mind it might be better for lighting to do outside!)
$250
Click the link below to easily book your slot!
Client | Dawn Photo Co. Dawn Photo Co. is a photography + videography team with a reimagined experience serving Lubbock, TX and beyond.
08/02/2022
2️⃣ England.
I can’t begin to thank the friends & strangers who organized and secretly gave to allow this retreat from life’s battle in the first place. Truly, thank you. I don’t know why God orchestrated this the way he did. But I am changed because of it.
This story is hard to sum up in 2200 characters or less. Because there’s more than one story at play; The story of my actual experiences & what it was like & all the encounters with the people God wove into it. But also the story of my inner journey & most importantly, how God used the distance- as a tool to do major gardening in the soil of my marriage. Perhaps saving it.
Not because of some profound experience I had, or anything 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥, but because of the opposite. What I wasn’t able to do, removing me from the equation, & taking me out of the drivers seat of my life for awhile, so he could work.
Yes, God can accomplish so much 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴. But I’ve found, sometimes he accomplishes even more 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 of us.
My full story will have to be reserved for my book one day. It’s too deeply important to skimp on. But I will say, it was undeserved mercy.
Without going into detail, when I left, I basically chucked a hand gr***de & left. My life was in ruins.
Heavy burdens of shame, guilt, grief, suicidal thoughts, hurt, confusion & apathy boarded that plane with me.
I didn’t lose them all at once, but slowly they began to loosen their grip as I found myself on the English countryside with daffodils decorating the hillsides, dancing in their breeze, begging me to listen.
“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.”
- Hosea 2:14
𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.
I had a week in England before I had to leave for Scotland, and I relished every minute.
It was as if I was in my very own storybook, nestled in a cottage & village that seemed to have been made from the very same substance God formed me from. I couldn’t help but feel like a weepy child in the lap of her father, arms wrapped around, head rested so closely in his chest I could almost hear the 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯.
08/01/2022
1️⃣It’s been 6 months since my last post. Since I withdrew from the world, & watched my life & world around me collapse in slow motion into dust.
I have so many chapters I want to share. From this book that seems to be writing me, instead of me writing it.
I’ve stopped fighting the currents of grief. & Instead I’m finding myself on a raft, riding them out, every so often rolling myself off the ledge & into the waters to learn to swim again.
I figured the best way to share, is slowly. Which I’m not used to. Normally I want to cram everything into one well composed post when my heart is bursting at the seams. But not this time. Slow & steady.
It’s good to be “back”, whatever that means. Life looks & feels a lot different & being off social for this length of time, was more-so Gods divine intervention, than my own doing.
But it’s amazing the fog that can lift when you’re just given permission to retreat.
I thought retreating was a sign of surrender or weakness. I was afraid people would forget Valor, or me, or my family or our pain. Which is why under the pressure of grief & trauma- I just kept showing up. Trying in my own strength to bring purpose to my pain.
I kept blindly swinging my sword even though I was bleeding out on the battlefield & even wounding people around me.
If you’ve ever seen Monty python- that scene where the knight is having all his limbs cut off & he’s still determined he’s not defeated. With no arms left he says, “it’s just a flesh wound” and keeps at it. Getting more limbs cut off until he’s just a torso with a head lying on the ground..yeah, that was me.😂
I’ve learned since then, retreating is actually a wise tactic. When the enemy is gaining too much ground & the carnage & injuries are becoming all too overwhelming & your conquering looks inevitable; to retreat is to pull back from enemy lines, gain a new vantage point, & tend to the wounds & injuries you’ve sustained.
That brings me to where I left all of you months ago…
I was silently begging for an escape. A reprieve. & in Gods mercy, somehow He deemed it would begin across the world, in a small village, on the English countryside…
(To be continued..)
02/12/2022
I have seen dark & it knows my name.
I have known it’s suffocation & saturation.
I became a byproduct of divorce at 11.
I have had my heart ripped out and stomped on with steel toed boots.
I’ve been told to get in the dark and stay there, where I belong. Been drug by hair and locked in a lightless bedroom.
I’ve seen the inside of the juvenile detention center. Twice.
Felt betrayal s***f out the small flame I thought was mine to keep
inside my small frame.
I’ve lie half dead in a hospital, abandoned by the ones who put me there.
Slipping in and out of existence.
Spent months hearing the beeping of a heart monitor who’s rythym convinced me I was dying, only to find out it’s worse-
Just my bodies response to the trauma and theres no way out like death would have provided.
Watched a best friend die in a car I should have been in.
My innocence was stolen- no, ripped from me at 14.
The trauma buried deep within my brains makeup.
I accepted the chains I thought I deserved for 3 years of my youth.
I sought love and identity under sheets of promiscuity.
At 16 a poppy seed was sewn in the garden of my womb, and at the time, it felt like a prison sentence.
But, she would give birth to freedom.
She would grow a story of messy redemption.
The road of giving up everything
To gain everything, in the form of coming home from school to bottle feed a helpless flower named Emagen.
I army crawled my way out of the inadequacy that was tattooed on my forehead.
I learned to stand, limp, walk, and then run, toward a new future.
I fell so many times again.
Accumulating scars of guilt & shame.
I found broken love
I brokenly learned to
brokenly love and
be brokenly loved.
We painted on the canvas handed to us.
Hell bound determined not to use the same colors as our eyes were accustomed to.
I sat in the cool of the evening with bloodied blistered hands, trying to learn the art of gardening that was never passed down to me.
I planted seeds.
A morning glory named Natalie.
A marigold named Beckham.
Two, who’s buds never broke through the surface.
And then Valor, a marigold.
Who was ripped from the soil of my heart.
And so, I am staring blank face in to the
Vacuum seal void I’ve seen so many times before.
Because
I’ve seen dark.
And it knows my name.
Some dark I’m not ready to name.
Your mind is a scary place to be when all you see is dark.
Wishing that your life was just a jacket made of flesh you could take off and hang up on the hook
In your foyer where you used to hang a diaper bag.
Wishing you could shed the very essence of you.
Wishing that the Light…
He would just take you too.
Pluck you from the garden.
Harvest you in His warmth
and end all this dark.
02/10/2022
Tbh, I’m not doing good today.
This is where I come to process.
I don’t know why it feels better to have eyes on my words, rather than leaving them hidden on paper.
I found this photo on my phone that was sent to me but I had never seen it. I only had him for 5 more days after this photo. That was it. Then he was gone.
I don’t know why it instantly stung.
As if driving the nail in further- that there are only a limited number of images & videos of him in the world, & once I’ve seen them all, that’s it.
I’ll never discover any new pieces of him.
That’s all there is.
-
I’m sick of this.
I hate that my identity is enveloped in this.
I don’t want this.
I love talking about Valor.
But today I’m sick that this is all I have to talk about.
It’s like wondering if, when more time has passed, if anyone will remember who I was without this.
Will I always be “that girl who’s baby died?”
Someone messaged me the other day and said they had no idea I had a sense of humor until I posted a funny reel.
But I do. I remember I used to have the best sense of humor. I used to laugh. A lot. I used to make people laugh.
I used to be known for my humor. My zest for life. My entrepreneurship. My home renovation.
I’ve said I feel like a shell of myself.
But a shell is too pretty of a word.
More like a dead rotting carcass of myself.
Do I carry any weight or purpose outside of this?
They say you can lose yourself in motherhood. Which I did, many times. But no one ever talks about losing yourself in losing them, if you do.
Everyday I wake up &want to do nothing but focus on my child, because it’s the only thing that makes this veil keep feeling thin, between him & I…
then I become instantly enraged because…
you know what? No.
I actually don’t want to have to do this every f******* day for the rest of my life because it’s f****** exhausting & I miss enjoying life and not merely existing.
Then the guilt from feeling that hits me like a semi, & once again, runs over my dead carcass roadkill of a self.
So I pull the covers back over my head. Because being me. Being 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 in being me, makes it far too hard to be awake.
01/24/2022
It’s been four months.
Four months of walking with this child loss limp.
In many ways, I feel like an amputee.
No, I haven’t died from my injury sustained.
Although some days I feel I’d rather…
But everyday, in ever way, I’m reminded of my new life.
This new life, this new me… I’d give anything to trade for the old.
But I’m learning to walk.
It really is an act of faith.
Everyday, choosing to walk by faith and not by sight.
Because if I look down,
all I see is the missing limb.
Somehow through my clouded vision, I’m beginning to see.
Through the emptying of my life,
the cup,
the one I begged to pass from me,
but didn’t.
I drank it instead, knowing it was mine.
I emptied it, and it emptied me.
And slowly, oh so slowly,
I’m learning.
How to truly be fulfilled.
And where to get my sustenance from.
How to live and how to die 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.
Aren’t we all dying?
Headed to the grave either way?
So how can I take this severed limb,
and this time I have left…
And embrace far more,
run much further,
than I ever could have with two?
I hope so badly,
That when I see you again.
You smell the same.
But magnified by the infinite.
I hope you feel as soft as you did.
And that I can put the weight of you on my chest.
I hope that these longings
Only a mother knows,
That God himself wove,
Are somehow more than fulfilled.
That they don’t fall short
Even an inch of what it would have been.
To raise you here.
To hold your hand.
To wipe your face.
To clean your boo boos.
To steady your walk.
To tickle your tummy.
To kiss your toes.
To relish your giggle.
Surely if this is only a foreshadow
Of what’s to come,
Then all of these things,
In their purest form,
Are waiting for me there.
Surely we can pick up where we left off.
And this time, without separation.
This time, without the confinement
𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.
Without the greatest enemy to us all.
𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.
01/09/2022
I know I’ve talked a lot about the butterflies, but the hummingbird sittings have been more infrequent. So I didn’t think much of them…until now.
A few weeks after the funeral, I saw one on my side yard. A few days later, one in my front yard.
They may be common around here, but I’ve genuinely never ever seen one in person, much less at my house.
They are surprisingly small.
After those sightings, I had a few dreams about them. None repeating, they would just be in my dreams. Hovering.
A few days before my family and I left for our first trip without Val to Ruidoso, we were watching Dont Look Up. There was a short scene with a vivid hummingbird flying in slow motion as it dipped its beak in a flower.
It kind of took my breath away. The day before we left for Ruidoso, I had a dream I was getting a tattoo. I was telling the artist what I wanted, listing all these things, when Justice looked at me and said “oh don’t forget the hummingbird.”
The next morning we awoke and headed out for our family sabbatical. I journaled on the way, praying over our trip. Knowing how badly we needed this change of scenery and how badly we needed the sacred time together as a family, just the…. 5 of us. (That was so painful to write.)
We arrived in Ruidoso and immediately headed to the store to stock up on things we’d need at the cabin our wonderful friend was lending us for the next few days.
I dreamt of being snuggled by a fire, phones locked away, playing games, talking, laughing. Journaling with coffee in the morning by a window. Reading my Bible and soaking in Gods presence.
Ruidoso is where Justice proposed to me in the summer of 2013. So it the location alone holds a really special place in my heart.
After the store, we headed up the mountain. On the way up, on the left hand side of the road, a wooden sign caught my eye. It was a hand crafted sign displaying none other than a hummingbird.
I shed a tear and smiled as I felt like it was a God wink telling me that what awaited us on that mountain was good.
We got all but 1 minute away, when the last winding road to the top, turned from pavement covered
(cont in comments)
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