When God Doesn't Build the Life I Imagined

For most of my life, I carried a picture in my heart of what motherhood would look like.

I imagined staying home, moving slowly through the days with my children, being fully present, never feeling rushed by work, money, or schedules. It felt holy. It felt right.

It felt like the dream God surely had for me.

But lately, I’ve realized something humbling.

God didn’t build my life around that dream.

He didn’t place me with a man who expected me to stay home while everything else magically fell into place. He didn’t remove the need for contribution, effort, structure, and responsibility. He didn’t make provision without participation.

Instead, God gave me David.

And David expects me to work. Not because he doesn’t value me at home, but because he believes in making our life real, not imagined. He understands that dreams don’t sustain our family, obedience and effort do.

For a long time, especially recently, I quietly hoped that one day things would “line up” and I’d be able to stay home the way I pictured. That the finances would change. That opportunities would appear. That circumstances would bend toward my preference.

But they didn’t.

And that’s when I started to see it differently.

If God wanted that life for me, the doors would already be open. The provision would already exist. The structure would already support it. God is not confusing. He is not teasing us with impossible callings.

He aligns purpose with reality.

What I was holding onto wasn’t faith, it was fantasy.

A gentle, beautiful fantasy but still something rooted more in longing than obedience.

The truth is, God isn’t asking me to wait for the life I want.

He’s asking me to steward the life I have.

He’s asking me to show my children what it looks like to participate in provision, to build something instead of wishing for it, to live inside reality with courage and gratitude.

My expectations of staying home with my kids are sweet, but sweetness alone doesn’t make a calling. Fruit does. Stability does. Movement does. Responsibility does.

God didn’t lead me into a life where I disappear into comfort.

He led me into a life where I show up.

Where I work.

Where I contribute.

Where I grow.

Where I model faith that moves its feet.

And strangely enough, there’s freedom in that.

Because I’m no longer waiting for someday.

I’m no longer disappointed by what isn’t happening.

I’m learning to be excited about what is happening.

My children don’t need a mother who lives in imagined peace.

They need a mother who lives in real courage.

God didn’t deny my dream, He is reshaping it.

Not into what feels easiest, but into what builds us.

And I’m finally learning that obedience often looks less like a fairytale…

and more like waking up and walking forward anyway.

Too Much to Do, Not Enough Time.

When Life Takes Over.

My page has been quite for months. It’s not because I've hung up my camera and called it quits—if anything, I crave holding the camera in my hands more now than ever. My desire for photography to become something more than a hobby is incredibly strong. But between being a mother of three, working a full-time job, and trying to be somewhat present as a wife, my days disappear faster than I can blink.

I want to grab my camera, chase the light, and create something beautiful. But dinner needs to be made. Someone can’t find their shoes. A work email dings. Laundry’s piling up. And once again, that creative itch has to wait. It’s a struggle—wanting to grow in a craft that feeds your soul while tending to the people and responsibilities that also hold your heart.

And it's times like this that I tend doubt myself: Maybe I’m not meant to be successful doing something I love. Maybe this is a sign that I can't make it work.

Creativity doesn’t disappear because it's paused. It waits. It’s patient. It’s still there. And it grows.

If you’re in this same season—balancing motherhood, marriage, work, and the constant hum of to-do lists—I am you. We don’t have to give up our creativity. We just have to give it grace. Maybe right now, we honestly can't give it everything. But we can give something.

Even if it’s one photo, even if it’s one idea scribbled in a notebook or even if it’s one moment where I remind myself: “it is ok if you can't right now" One day, there will be more room.

Until then, I’m learning to let my passion live beside my priorities—not behind them. That's why the only sessions I ever share are when my children's birthday's roll around or a fun afternoon shoot that I have been rolling around in my head for months and finally got around to.

And friend, if you’re feeling this post in your bones, please don’t give up. Find little ways to keep your dreams alive—no matter how big or small they may feel right now. When something truly matters to you, there’s always a way to make space for it, even in the busiest seasons.

And here’s one more thing: work on that confidence while it’s quiet. I am working on mine too. I’m slowly building the courage to silence the anxiety and take flight. I believe—deep down—that I could really make this dream come true someday.

Do you believe you could, too?

Capturing In The Moment.

In a world where we’re constantly hustling toward the next goal, and seeming watching everyone else's dreams come true on social media, it’s easy to forget the simple joy that comes from being present. I struggle with finding contentment. I've prayed countless times, asking for the peace to stay present and accept where I am in life. Yet, I find myself consistently focused on the next goal, the next idea, rushing to accomplish everything in sight without fully embracing the moment I’m in. I find myself using the excuse "seeking God's will for my life." Questioning, What does God truly want for me? and constantly seeking what path He wants me to take?

God doesn't want his children struggling or stressing to find Him. If God knows the very hairs on our head, He knows you would be here in this moment. And it's amazing how focusing on the moment and photography are deeply intertwined, as both require a unique awareness of the present. As a photographer, your ability to capture a fleeting moment relies on your focus and presence. You need to see the beauty in what's around you—whether it’s a passing expression, the perfect light, or the subtle details that others might overlook. A great photographer isn't just focused on the technical aspects of the camera, but on the scene in front of them, absorbing the energy, emotions, and life unfolding in real-time.

Being a photographer and living in the moment are boty practices of mindfulness. They encourage you to let go of distractions, to stop rushing toward what's next, and to truly be in every experience.

In photography, the goal isn't always to capture a perfect shot. Photography, when you truly love it, is a good experience for everyone involved. My sessions are more than "say cheese," or sit over there and pose like this. When we get done with a session, my kiddos usually say, "That was fun, mom!" We create moments that both them and I will remember for years. When I say I want to create memories that last a lifetime, I’m not just talking about the picture that hangs on your wall. I’m talking about the time we share together—memories that you’ll cherish and love looking back on. If my session doesn't do that for you, then I've missed my purpose.