Dear Little Dane,

This is your aunty Whitney, and I have some things to share with you, thoughts that came to me when you were still so tiny.

I love holding you, your precious little body, still so fragile and new. I love the softness of your scent, your unblemished olive skin, and placing my hand on the rhythm of your strong little heart. I love the way you look around, as if you’re trying to make sense of a world out of focus, and I love the way you rest in the arms of your mommy, and in the presence of your daddy. I love the peace you bring those who visit you, the way you slow down your company, if only for a few moments. When people walk into the room, they unthinkingly leave their worries behind, and your comfort, your health, your well being takes absolute precedence. You already occupy the hearts of those who meet you. It matters not what you will be, the choices you will make– you are born into a family of friends who will unconditionally support and adore you.

You were born to a mommy who is strong, yet sweet. I’m sure, in your simple way, you already know. Dane, you have made her so tender. She has always been bold, strong, independent– and this is what we have long loved about her. But now, she is marked by her tenderness. I remember my mom used to watch your mom, and her and I would play for hours after school. She was always the show-runner, the show-stopper, heck, the whole show! Your mom is so smart, and she will share what she knows with you. She has resiliently trudged through several trying season, been the victim of bad weather, been the song bird of new and prettier days. One day she will speak into you the things that have made her strong. Your mom keeps nothing to herself; she is one of the most generous people I know. You will inherit the entirety of her wisdom, if you dare listen, little Dane.

And, your daddy is such a hard worker, so enamored by you, his first son. He works nights while your mom goes to school during the day, so that your future is something you will be proud of. Your daddy is someone I grew up with– he too is brilliant! His mind is sharp, and he is so much fun! He won’t let you live a dull moment, he’ll always protect you, and he’ll teach you how to make the most of what you have, just like he has. You are lucky to be his son.

Little Dane, you are blessed. I pray you learn about the wonderful creator who is your father in heaven, by one day looking at the details in these photos. The way you look, the way you breathe, nothing by coincidence. You were perfectly created on purpose, soon you will know, as you ween your way into independence. I pray you learn grace by feeling the unlimited forgiveness of your parents, as you slowly grow out of your innocence. I hope you give grace to your parents who I’ve seen work so diligently to make you comfortable. I pray your mother makes you laugh like she always has made me. I pray you your father makes you courageous, much like him.

And I pray you know this, little Dane: God has his fingerprints all over your precious little life. We know His love for us better, by the love he’s place in our hearts for you.

Love, Whitney

Oh friends, I’ve been thinking about a very special night for a very long time, both before it came and after it passed. My thoughts have often found themselves caught in reveries, that I recently dreamt into life. It seems that this one special night has consumed most of my favorite thoughts, ever since I can remember. I have often thought about where I’d be, how he’d say it, and what’d it mean: that is, the day he got on his knee, and asked me to be his wife.

I remember laying in my pink frilly bed as a little girl, nestled under my Little Mermaid sheets, dreaming in secret about the day my God chosen man would ask me to marry him. I dreamt about who it’d be… what’d he look like… how his voice would sound… what he’d think of me… how his hands felt… the color of his eyes… I thought about it all. The details I awaited tickled me, and still do. But now I get to see those details daily: ah, gosh, those beautiful green eyes, those strong warm hands, I praise God for the countless details I discover in Andrew.

I’ve often thought about him, someone I was to love, long before I met him– the HE in this story is someone the SHE in this story has prayed for her whole life

Once upon a time, I’d lay there and whisper, “I do” into the dark, listening to the sound of my own quiet voice, and then I’d laugh because I knew it was so silly– I was only nine, my journal tells. I vividly remember being on my knees, asking God to bless that boy, to keep him wise, oh please God, and I asked my Father to keep me wise, too. I remember laying on my carpet, weeping for him, and things he’d already gone through, in those years I didn’t know him. The empathy God has instilled in me was and is strong and passionate for him. I cried in my prayers for Andrew, because I knew it’s a tough world for men to live in, and I knew my husband was out there, roughing it out, learning to be brave without me. Gosh, I remember whispering out loud, “Lord, keep him safe tonight.” I know this all might sound overly romanticized, but this testimony is the bare bones truth. I have cared about my future husband a long time, with a happy heart, with a broken heart, nonetheless with all of my heart.

So, to flash forward a bit: Andrew and I were beautifully and undeniably becoming more and more serious, and a lot of relevant questions competed for my attention– I began to question the “when” more seriously, innocently wondering where he’d do it. I’d question the “how” and pictured the “where”—but there was one question I hadn’t wrestled with: and that was “Is?” I knew he was, is, and will be.

But, all the confidence in my selection aside, we hadn’t gone ring shopping. And that, I was told, needed to happen before I could expect anything else. With the exception of a brief and casual “walk-by-the-diamonds-and-blurt-out-my-favorite-cut” stunt I once pulled at COSCO, we hadn’t even crossed the ring choosing bridge. Andrew shook his head and promised he’d never buy me a ring from Cosco. A hot-dog, of course, but never a ring, he insisted.

Plus, we hadn’t talked about anything officially, so there was nothing really to expect. Of course, I still had my expectations, but they were ambiguous and were postured at a distance from my current day to daying. To say the least, our engagement story COMPLETELY caught me off guard, in the best, most memorable I could imagine.

So now, a week later, while it’s still fresh in my mind, I thought I’d share for those who care to listen…

Last Sunday, Andrew and I met for breakfast near the church. Shortly after, we went over to Milk & Honey to read and drink tea out on the patio, which is one of our absolute favorite past-times. We relaxed under the warm sun, and had our own quiet time, but still in one another’s company, which is something that brings immense joy and energy to each of us. The simplicity of our time together in settings like these is something we find ourselves craving.

After our noon retreat, I dropped him off at the church, thanked him for reading with me, and quickly kissed that boy goodbye. I suggested we meet for the night service at church later on, and he said we’ll figure something out. Maybe the later service after my engagement shoot would work out, we considered. So no definite plans, certainly nothing curious… to say the least.

After my engagement session ended, I called him to let him know I had headed to Fullerton to make the 9 o’clock service. He said he had already sat through the 7 o’clock, and I could still come, but he’d rather just see me, maybe meet at his apartment and relax. Relaxation sounded splendid, especially after snapping away for a few hours prior. I suggested we walk to frozen yogurt from his place, through the circle of Orange, which is also one of our favorite things to do. We love love love night walks through the quaint little city he calls home.

I got to his place and after enjoying the company of his roommates, Drew casually asked if I still want to grab fro-yo. And of course, the answer was yes, because, well obviously.

We shared a large cup of my favorite flavors (cake batter, red velvet, and chocolate mix). After I pretty much demolished the entire cup by myself, he asked if I wanted more. And of course, the answer was yes, because, well obviously.

After cup number two, I felt more than satisfied. Apparently, when Drew went to go get the second cup, he moved his cell phone and wallet into one pocket, and secured the ring in his other, without it’s box, so I wouldn’t ask anything about anything.. he was so secretive and sly… that fox.

So we headed out, and began talking about how lovely it would be to live in Orange, one day, together. We talked about how much we love the big trees, and we love how often we run into friends from the church downtown, and how we love the city circle (a park with benches and grass and the pretty light up water fountain, which all the shops are perfectly built around). We love that people sit in that very park, play cards, play music, and picnic.

Now…

We have to rewind a bit. On Andrew and my first night together, our first date, we were laying on a blanket in my backyard listening to Jose Gonzalez radio on Pandora. Little tea light candles burned around us, and we held hands in the quiet warm night for hours. At one point, I felt him staring at me. Not a glaring stare, but more of an adoring stare. I bashfully turned my head, and asked what he was doing. He smiled, and said, “Do you know what I’m thinking?” I did. I knew he wanted to tell me he loves me, but conventionally, it was maybe too soon. I knodded, “Yes, I think that too.” It was like a secret message only we could decode, and it felt playful, but so genuine. For those next few weeks (until we said those magical three words, I Love You) we’d flirtatiously asked if the other knew what we were thinking, and the other would endearingly affirm the same thought, or better yet, the same feelings.

Since that first month, we haven’t really brought up our old playful secret messages. It was one of those things we’d probably thought about more than once, but hadn’t brought up in conversation… until last Sunday.

Now, fast forward, to us walking past the lit up water fountain in the middle of the park. He slowed down his pace, and stared at me. I felt that old stare– I know it well. I turned to him, and he said, “You know what I’m thinking?” In that familiar tone, we used to say those familiar words, it made me laugh. My eyes lit up and I was brought back to our beginning, before the I love yous, before the walks through Orange, before the sailboat, before the us we know now. When he asked me if I knew what he was thinking, it took a few seconds, but then my stomach began to turn, because I knew what he was thinking. He wants to marry me.

I shyly said, “I’m not sure,” because I obviously wasn’t going to say, “You want to marry me…”

He then grabbed both of my hands and told me, “Well I won’t leave you guessing, let me put it into words…”

At that point he started to reach into his pocket and get down on one knee at the same time. Both of my hands shot up to cover my mouth…. I was in complete and utter shock. Oh my God. Oh my God. The moment is now. The moment is here. I’m going to marry my best friend. He’s asking me. Whitney. Stop thinking. Listen. You need to hear this!

Just thinking about it right now makes my stomach do somersaults. Wow… those brilliant feelings are so indelibly carved into my mind. I quickly had to reorient myself as I felt the world start to spin; I felt like I was quickly losing my equilibrium. He stared at me, his eyes welling with tears, and told me how he wanted to begin our lives together, here in Orange, and he wanted to walk past this fountain every day and for me to remember the night he asked me to marry him. He said he loved me more than anything and that nothing would make him happier than if I were his bride. At this point, my face split in half with a smile, but you’d never know, because my hands are still covering my mouth. I felt like I was literally dreaming. I asked him, “Is this real life?!” He said, “Yes!” I said, “No, is this real LIFE?” Again, he affirmed YES, and said, “WHITNEY!!!! WILL YOU MARRY ME?!”

I shouted, “YES!!!” And hugged him with all my strength. I jumped up and down and screamed and he said, “We’re getting married!!! Whitney, we’re getting married!!!”

I told him, “I WANT TO DO CARTWHEELS!!!” And he said, “Your ring will fall off!” And then I remembered… I hadn’t even seen the ring yet. I was too caught up in his glossy green eyes, his words, and my feeling dizzy.

Just then… it caught my eye. Sparkling, firey, the most beautiful diamonds I have ever seen. And I mean that. I could not… could NOT… believe it was mine. He slipped it on my finger, and I kept looking at it, and then back at him, absolutely stunned by his immense generosity.

People around us started to cheer and clap! And because it was dark, and I couldn’t see, I thought they were our friends. “Drew, are those our friends?!” “No, HAHAHAHA, let’s hurry back to the apartment and see everyone though…”

While walking back to his place, I stopped and showed/told random people I just got engaged. I wanted to hug everyone I saw. I think I scared a few people, but that’s not a surprise. I skipped. I jumped. I screamed. We hugged more.

After celebrating with his roomies, we drove to my house to wake up my mom and brother. I asked Drew if they knew, and he said, “Of course they do, I asked your mom permission this morning over coffee.” I about melted, because that meant so very much to me. More than I could emphasize. He added, “In fact, I met with your brother and asked for his permission to marry you, too.” My heart felt like it stopped right then. My eyes filled with tears. What a man, I have. What a MAN.

In awe, I sat quiet. “Oh and Oma and Opa (grandparents) know too. Your mom and I called and put them on speakerphone, and they gave me permission as well. Everyone said Yes– Whit, everyone has given us their blessing.”

I tell you, nothing felt so right before. My entire family has outwardly blessed this engagement, and were absolutely ecstatic to have Andrew part of the family. I felt so supported, so cared for. God, you’re good. I looked up, GOD, you are GOOD.

I raced to my moms bed-side and shouted, “MOM!!! I’m getting married! Mom! Look!!!! Mom!!!! Oh MY GOODNESS!”

She hugged us each a dozen times, my brother impatiently waiting for his turn. We stayed up late, sitting around the kitchen table, all of us aglow with serious confidence and excitement, collectively dreaming up bits of the Schey future.

I am going to be Mrs. Whitney Schey.

My father has delivered me again. Praise GOD.

(Half an hour after I said YES, back at Drew’s apartment)

These are my dear, dear friends:

Annah Limmer and Josh Liverman

And they have a story that has challenged me, immensely.

Upon blogging their pictures, I must admit, I was a bit uncertain about what I’d write… not because there isn’t enough, but because there is too much.

So I’ll just settle with this, “Congrats, you two!”

……………

Just kidding. Wouldn’t that be so awkward if that was your whole blog post?

……..

But really. I sat here staring at the computer screen and thought to myself, “Will I write about how funny Josh is? No, that’s so lame. He’s so much more than how he makes us laugh.” “Will I write about how peaceful it is to be around Annah? She’s got this come-as-you-are feel to her that would make anybody feel like a million bucks to stand in her presence… I mean, I could, but everyone who knows her can tell you that.” I wanted to do something different for my friends. Something that carries substance.

So I dwelled on the nature of their relationship… What do I know about them? Together. As a couple…

BOOM. Easy. “Their service,” I said out loud.

Their service. I sat with it. I felt God bless the idea that was slowly coming to fruit.

“So much to say about their service… their story needs to be told…” I started pecking away at the keyboard.

People, listen close. These are two of the most dynamic and talented people I know. Each fully capable of being extremely successful money-makers/ballers/what have you, in the “real” world. Even in the depression.

Each of them are intelligent, charismatic, and gifted.

But instead of capitalizing on these characteristics, they have subtly offered them, to the Lord, knowing the glory belongs to Him.

I’m sure you get how stressful marriage is. Even if you’re not married. You’ve seen enough movies. And I’m sure you know that more than half of the problems people have, even celebrities, are based on the monies.

So with that said, receive this bit of truth:

Josh and Annah are stepping into marriage, and simultaneously stepping into a non-paid ministry position, with a wonderful missionary outreach called Frontiers. (www.frontiers.org)

Yeah. They don’t get a fo-sho pay-check twice a month. Like ever. They have stepped out and trusted that if they serve Him, He will provide enough for them. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve said that I’d do that more than I ever actually have.

They are living it. I am humbled.

They have quietly encouraged me to plunge into what feels more than a little scary; they have taught me a number on faith. Their commitment to living out the Gospel is the root of their relationship, and they– oh, they are the vibrant tree, in full blossom.

I feel like they are nestling their relationship at the feet of God’s funnel. If I know God, they will be blessed.

Their future is completely support raised, but they would never ever ever solicit it. So, I will

In fact, I don’t know if I’ll get a call tomorrow morning, asking for this blog post to be taken down. I don’t know if I’m even allowed to plug their ministry the way I am, but as their friend, I can’t help but want to serve a couple who so steadfastly serves others.

I would like to encourage everyone to check out what their future has in store for them, and how God has already used them as a team in these past few months. Go to www.joshliverman.com to get a feel for the larger scoop. It’s incredible.

If nothing else, I hope that you will pray. For security, for peace, for joy. These are my friends, people I know, care for, and can’t help but stand behind. Josh and Annah, I am humbled by your beginning. I love you both, to the end.

Just hours before I, myself, got engaged,

I photographed these two love-birds, basking in each other’s sweet, sweet company:

So very excited to share more of the warmth they shared with me.

I think the very thought that drives some people away from marriage may be the very thought that drives other to it.

That is, thinking about spending the rest of your life, committed to one person. One person. One who may be extremely lovable, beautiful, funny, WHATEVER, yet still comes complete with all their hiccups, bad habits, and inconsistencies.

One. You can only choose one.

It’s sort of like that overdone journal prompt English teachers loved to assign, back in the day. “If you could only choose one person to live on an island with, who would it be and why?” (Which, upon viewing on the white board, I almost always immediately thought my teacher was hungover.)

And so, although at the time the question seemed irrelevant, it’s virtue tails some importance, especially for us unmarried people, who have come out of the hiding and have started the seeking. Oh, and allow me to quickly clarify: I do not believe marriage should ever be an island (the isolation sounds awful), however, I believe marriage should be a sanctuary (complete with ‘island-like amenities” such as pina coladas, skinny dipping, and coconut lotion deep-tissue massages).

In time, some muster up the courage to enter that sanctuary, and ask them to be their one. This is the part that fascinates me. I am so intrigued by the choosing, and often, I sit around and wonder what separated this person from another. I watch them at the alter, or during their first dance, and curiously ponder, why, this time, was it different? Why, him, and why her?

I know this is silly, but often, I feel flattered for the person to who it is said, “I do.” I feel completely honored for the who that is vowed to. I could blush even thinking about it. Isn’t it flattering? That another person is up there, declaring YES, to only YOU.

Sometimes I leave the company of married or dating couples, and think about the (potential) why behind their yes. Sometimes it takes a while, because frankly, I am not in their sanctuary…

OH, but other times– I have no question why.

Sometimes the WHY is so obvious, it’ll hit me square in the face, if I even dare to look.

Friends, this is the case with Stephanie and Mark Davis.

I had the pleasure of photographing them from wedding from the Newport Beach Temple all the way back to the reception at her home. It was a sealing that left their guests with no questions.

Lucky for me, the sting of my curiosity didn’t last long: Why isn’t a secret either one could keep.

It’s a new love…

A breath-taking, heart-stealing, knows-no-bounds sort of love.

Cannot wait to share more of my new friend,

Little itty bitty Dane Crowder.

Every time I look at this photo, I peep their smiles, and then smile back.

I know that’s probably sorta really creepy, but I can’t help it.

Just look at them and tell me it’s not contagious…

Stay tuned for more of my date with Annie & Josh:

While they are honeymooning somewhere off the fabulous coast of Mexico,

I sit here, entranced by their photos, captivated by her elegance, and his charm.

The Westmont Wedding story coming soon…

The finale that was grand:

We moseyed over to Multnomah Falls on our road trip back to P-Land. Talk about the perfect day to visit; it had rained only two days before, so the falls were fresh and magnificently fierce. The sun shined through the looming mist, the air smelt crisp, and Oregon glimmered vibrantly, saturated in technicolor beauty.

Our stomach’s were rumbling loud gurgles, exaggerating the extent of their hunger, so our stay was short but sweet. Next time we’d definitely like to hike to the top of the falls. Well Drew would like to, and I’d be happy if I was towed in a wagon with a built in mister, and a sac lunch with iced Capri Suns, for at least half of the way. Just sayin’.

No… I kid, I kid. There was something undeniably enlivening about being so far away from the daily hustle and bustle. Our time at the falls made me so much more aware of how much our generation is missing out. As I sit here typing away behind a computer screen, I sigh. We miss so much, these lives behind screens. Yesterday, I heard stories of my grandpa night-diving for abalone, a food that he caught and cooked for his family, which is now so rare we can’t even order it in restaurants anymore. He told me about all the magnificent colors and shapes he discovered in the underworld, and suddenly I feel parched for the adventures he knew so well. I begin to understand, these moments at Multnomah Falls, and our exploring the streets of an unknown city with a REAL map are going to be stories paid forward to my grandchildren. And although they don’t seem like much in comparison to what I’ve gleaned from my grandfather, they may be much more exciting than the virtual world that may take over in time.

Wow. That was a bit of an unplanned tangent. Forgive me. Anyways- next came quite literally, the best breakfast I’ve ever tasted. I mean it. I had cornbeef hash at this place called Jam in Hawthorne. We ate outside, at a table on the curb, and traded bites, with few words, and stuffed mouths. I highly recommend grabbing breakfast at that joint, if you ever get the lucky chance.

And then, with full bellies, came walking. Miles of walking. But the sort of walking where you don’t count the blocks, or minutes left from here until we get there. There is so much to see and feel, that you don’t even pay attention to the fact you just burned off the whole first 300 calorie bite from breakfast. That’s my favorite type of exercise. The kind you aren’t aware of.

We ended up making a pit stop at a place called Diorio’s for a beer and a round of Crazy 8’s. I bring a deck of cards everywhere, because a game of War, or whatever you prefer, can settle more than you think. Including the tab, if you play your cards right, like me.

Next stop, souvenirs! Not cheesy Portland key-chains, which I kind of regret not purchasing now that I think of it. Nor a Portland mug. But, if any readers want to send me one, I’ll surely reimburse you.  I’m serious. Holler at me if you can help me with that. Corny Portland mug, please!

Instead, Drew and I went into a place called Let It Bead, and we handmade a necklace for me. It’s a long gold chain, with a beautiful gold leaf, with a turquoise little bead hanging next to it. Of course, symbolizing the sweet rain.

For him, I got an English pipe and Virginia somethin’ tobacco. Forget what it’s called, but I remember how it tastes. DELICIOUS! I’ve taken to buying Andrew pipes when I visit new places. So far he has two. One from Costa Rica, and now Oregon. One day, someone will inherit a wonderful collection with rich history. I have a feeling this tradition will continue for several years to come. Hopefully the handmade jewelry tradition will continue, too. Ahem. Take notes, (Andrew).

An interesting experience on the way to Portland City Grill, which happened to include happy hour, on the 30th floor, on Sunday nights. Conveniently awesome? Yeah, I know. We were making our way down town, when a woman hollered, “SEXXXYY,” as she walked past us. A few seconds later, to break the silence, she said, “Hunny, I’m talkin to you, not your man.” Stunned, to say the least. I politely responded, “Thank you,” smiled, and clenched my guy’s hand a bit tighter. We exchanged glances, laughed, and agreed we weren’t sure if that was flattering for either one of us.

At the Portland City Grill, we watched over the lit up city that had stolen our hearts. Thousands of little yellow squares symmetrically assembled on the sides of tall buildings, turning off and on, as the people left their offices, and entered their apartments. Over drinks and avocado/mango/cucumber concoctions, we travelled through a vortex of even forgettable moments, knowing that we may never remember the little details again.

Andrew, I hope these posts help us remember a fraction of the excitement we felt in Oregon. I hope we think of your late night Taco Bell run AFTER we ate sushi, I hope we think of you singing Bon Jovi in the car, and me curled up in a ball, grimacing and laughing, all at once. I hope we remember my blistered feet, me wearing your sockets with sandals, and our realization that we walked three miles to a Barcade. I hope we remember the comforting hum of the city, the not knowing if were supposed to tip taxi cab drivers, the aimless driving through neighborhoods, dreaming about our future, your passion for woodwork, my hopes for picture taking, and our plans to go on night walks, wherever we end up.

I hope these posts help us remember our small role in keeping Portland weird.

The bubbly girl with the polka-dot bag.

That’s how I’ll always remember her, at least. Prancing around campus, with that year round spring in her step. Oh, that Brittany Arbuckle, coming into class a few minutes late again, with a big coffee stain on her t-shirt, which of course happened during one of the fifty high-fives she distributed between her dorm and Old Testament with Mr. Smith. I remember that Brittany Arbuckle very well; she’s talking real fast, and we’re trying to keep up, because boy, she’s got it, whatever it is, and we all want it.

Brittany Arbuckle– I wonder how many boys promised their friends they’d marry you? But alas, you had to choose one. And so we waited for you to choose, wondering who’d win your heart for good.

We wondered who’d get on his knee, and ask that Oregon girl to be his wife. We knew not who he was, but what he had to be. We knew he’d have to be quick– quick to keep up with her racing mind. We knew he’d have to be handsome– handsome because she has an eye for beautiful things. We knew he’d have to be adventurous– because the rain calls her out to play in the middle of the night. But more than anything, we knew he’d have to be wise– wise enough to know, she wouldn’t marry any man, unless his heart was good with God. Oh friends, she needed a wise man, a man who knew where she’d buried her heart, years ago, deep in that garden tended by her Father.  We waited for a man who’d not only find, but nourish what had already been planted.

Stephen, you are that man. Aren’t you proud to have been so specifically chosen, so specifically desired? To have a wife, that knew what she wanted, and waited for it… she waited for you. For that, we are thankful. As her close friend, I couldn’t feel more confident than I do, that she found exactly what she prayed for. Her and I, we prayed for you both, before you even knew each other, and my heart now rejoices in God’s faithful promise. He has been so good to you. Remember what it took, what He did, to lead your two roads to this one?

On this road: I trust you will protect one another, always. I trust you will laugh too loud, and wake your neighbors when Brittany’s up at 2am, with too much coffee in her system, and wants to wrestle. I trust she will be a good listener, offer sound advice, and be understanding when you’ve watched one too many chick flicks. I trust her heart with you.

Finally, I believe you two are better together than you’d ever be apart. I see it today, and I plan to see that truth manifest in your many years to come. As your friend, I will watch, and I will remind you, what you promised to each other, at the foot of Mount Hood, that pretty June day, in front of your adoring family and friends. And for that, as Brittany once coined, let us all,  ”Be Joyful Always.”