Wednesday Words: Walking through a Desert

Posted on January 23, 2013 by Kaia Calhoun

Today my world suddenly crumbled beneath me. I can’t specifically pin what started it but all I know is I suddenly, involuntarily succumbed to messy tears. To say the least, nothing was going right and I was feeling significantly lack luster in my line of work.

I stumble outside, hop in my car, turn the ignition .. some whiny noises then the clicking sound of death. She was not going to start. I marched to our other vehicle and she hesitantly gave way to life.

I headed on my way to meet some girl friends at Starbucks while popping in at various establishments to accomplish some errands while in transit. At none of these places did I get helped by anyone I’ve made friends with, nor anyone that was particularly kind; I realized later that was for the best because with my dam threatening to break a kind word would have meant my overflow. So, I made it to the post office, the bank and Starbucks intact; however, I was slowly breaking and my last shred of will power almost crumpled while waiting for the barista to finish my hot chocolate. The girls didn’t pay notice to me except for Erin who simply said she’d meet me back at their place because there were too many of us to fit at Starbucks. Again, thankful nothing else was said because it surely would have meant my end.

I trudged to my car again and felt my face shattering along the way. I hurried my fanny onto my driver’s seat, shut the door, and sobbed. My phone rang and I proceeded to hastily blubber to Josh that I didn’t want to talk and I would talk to him later or something.

“But I kind of need to talk.”

“Fine, you can talk but I don’t want to so I’ll just listen.”

Of course, after he opened up about his trying day I was able to calm my inner storm enough to share my trouble with him.

I had to pop into UPS to drop a package off so we had a brief conversational interval and I’m fairly certain the other customer in the store and the clerk could tell I had been crying but I was all too aware there was nothing I could do about it.

When I got back in the car I spilled over again and was starting to reach hyperventilation.

I finally reached the bottom line of it all in our conversation, I was so lonely I felt sick and I was struck by the realization that with my husband out saving souls with their ministry my job of photography felt utterly meaningless.

It amazes me how, so often in our marriage, he knows just what to say. This time he simply told me he understood and that he knows what it’s like to be walking through a desert. He also said that it is always right after the dry seasons that God pours out the biggest blessings.

Since I had reached the hyperventilation level of blubbering I continued to sob until my emotions ran out. A short walk and two long hugs later I could breathe easy again and sorrow gave way to an unmistakable rise in hope and thankfulness.

Now I am excited to see what lies at the end of this desert. And, even though I live an out-of-the-ordinary marriage with my man on the road, I’m so thankful that the love we share is forever deep and that I have a husband who adores me, misses me, calls me often, and encourages me. Today I count myself so blessed.

Musings of a Musician’s Wife: the good and the not so good of wedding photography

Posted on June 22, 2012 by Kaia Calhoun

As a wedding photographer I come across a great variety of weddings from the fancy over-the-top sort to the handmade and on the farm type. Being that weddings have consumed my attention this month I have had them on my mind a lot. These weddings become a part of my life for a while because of all the emotions I see throughout the day and because of the emotionally charged atmosphere I take on some emotions myself. More specifically, I particularly remember the best moments of the day… and the not so good.

The not so good

Divorce is bad. But it becomes painfully obvious at a wedding as I arrange and rearrange families for various additions and subtractions of people to satisfy everyone’s ideal wedding portrait. I love making everyone’s dreams come true, but there is always something sad to me when the rearranging is not so the bride and groom can have treasured pictures with the whole family and any individual members they want but to get all the broken sections of family.

Guest paparazzi. All the point and shoot cameras brought into a wedding become my battle grounds for getting pictures of the bride and groom. My deepest wish is to have a wedding with no other cameras but my own so I don’t have to compete for attention and don’t have to fight against other people’s flashes and cameras hanging out in the middle of my perfect point of view.

The hand. This happens most at receptions, some more, some less, but the hand to the camera… please do not do it. All I can think in moments like that is “but I am doing this for the bride and groom.”

An angry bride. It’s just scary.

The good

Wedding sermons. I love wedding sermons. They never get old to me and it is always a wonderful reminder for me to refocus my attention on the things that matter in my own marriage.

The bride’s grand entrance. To this day I am on the verge of tears every time a bride walks down an aisle, especially if the groom is crying. There is something about that moment that stirs up all the good there is to be had in the world and plops it right in front of me. Nothing else matters in that still moment but the bride and groom locking eyes and everyone else believing in love, even if just for a moment.

Worship. Josh and I didn’t have worship at our ceremony, but if I were to do it all over again I totally would. During worship at the ceremony I find myself on the verge of tears yet another time. If the moments the bride spends walking down the aisle are beautiful, the moments she and her man spend worshipping together on their wedding day are beyond magnificent – highlighting God during the day that marks one of the biggest commitments.

Physical transformation. I love getting to watch all the women in the bridal party go from bed head and wrinkly comfy, clothes to glamorous princesses. Sometimes when I later connect with various members I’m confused when I see them dressed in their street clothes as I catalogue them in my brain as the princess I last saw them as.

Perhaps I will add more to this collection over time but, for now, these are the few that have been running laps in my brain.

Musings of a Musician’s Wife: Happy Father’s Day

Posted on June 18, 2012 by Kaia Calhoun

Yesterday I wrote out the seeds my dad has planted in my life, recorded it in a video, and sent it to him as my far away Happy Father’s Day gift. Love you Daddy!

Daddy, you are a man of very loving words and little expectation. I know you don’t expect much on holidays but I have never wanted to take that as an out for gift giving because you are so worthy of being showered with love. You are also a man who places clear value of presence and loving words over any physical gift, however expensive. So, on this Father’s Day I decided to give you the closest thing to presence I could think of being I cannot be there and a whole slew of loving words, yet none of this will ever compare to the 23 years of both of these you’ve given me. Words can only go so far because I know that every time I get to talk about you I have so many good ones to share so I hope that my words now, most of which I blurt out whenever anyone will hear, reveal to you just how ridiculously fantastic I think you are. And as a wonderer of God’s creation I want to share with you all the seeds you’ve sown in me as my daddy.

“I’m sorry.” If you weren’t quick to apologize for your part in any of our arguments you were adamant about doing so when we both had time to cool down. You showed me that the quickest fire tamer is those two simple words. It is hard to maintain anger after a heartfelt apology escapes the lips of your current assailant. So you not only showed me how to say I’m sorry but you gave that gift to me in our arguments and taught me to graciously accept an apology and to be quicker to admit where I was also wrong.

Patience and steadfastness. These two go together with you because there is a steadfastness about your patience. There has always been something about you that is like a Jesus’ fisherman’s boat facing the storms with undying certainty of safe passage. I strive for that certainty as I walk through life. And even though you are somewhat of a speed demon on the roadways at times that is not actually a hint of impatience. You are patient in all times of waiting and have a contentedness about you that I hope to see grow in my life. You truly emit a spirit of joy wherever you are, in whatever you are doing.

Gentleness. I frequently found amusement in my friends when they came over because of the freakish look of fear that flickered in their eyes when they first saw you, especially with the boys. You have this sort of intimidation about you that I only understood when I erred on the wrong side of the fence and made you unhappy. But with my friends I always laughed at them because I knew that you were simply gooey and cuddly on the inside. I can remember watching you help me nurse various wild animals back to health. I remember the way you reach out to small children and handle them with such care. I remember the way you patiently encourage my skittish dog to come near you for some loving. I remember the way you would gather me up in your arms when I cried. I remember how the words that most frequented your mouth were uplifting and most loving.

Love-giving words, nurturing, and affection. Daddy, you are never short on words of affection for those you love. You are especially intentional about frequently using the words “I love you.” Whenever I get the chance to talk about you I talk about how I somehow never even needed to hear those words because I never doubted that you have loved me wholeheartedly every second of my life.

Time and presence. You have shown me that the two most valuable gifts are time and presence. You showed me this by showing up at all of my games and extracurricular activities and not just putting in a few minutes of face time but arriving early and staying late and shouting words of encouragement from the sidelines the whole time. Actually, yours was the only voice I heard as it boomed surely cutting through any other noisy barriers. I remember one time when I forgot to tell you about a choir concert until an hour or two before it started. You and mom both simply said “we will be there.” I was adamant about it not being important and not to worry if you couldn’t make it since I spaced out telling you earlier but when I saw you smiling proudly in the crowd I remember feeling so warmed to the core and proud to be your daughter. I also remember the times we would go nightcrawler hunting, puddle jumping in the rain, fishing, or camping in the boundary waters. You were always looking for the next opportunity to hang out with me in the ways I loved and I love all those unique memories we got to share because of it.

Work hard, and, more importantly, play hard. You are one of the most devoted workers I know. I honestly despised the times I was recruited to help with various yard chores but I think a little bit of that is good for every kid. But you worked to keep a good, safe house and to provide for our family and you always did so with such joy. I’ve always loved that you find joy in everything you do so even working becomes playing for you it seems like. That being said though, you are the best example of being a child at heart because you truly live for the times you can do the next fun thing with your family whether it be tubing, iceskating, a trip to the cabin, building a fire for all of us to sit around, playing Star Fox on the Nintendo 64, or playing a rousing game of Uno. I could always tell the favorite part of your day was coming home to the family you clearly cherished.

All consuming joy. I think my favorite attribute of you is your ear to ear smile that frequently accompanies your booming laugh. I love being a part of your laughter. There is something so contagious about the joy you carry with you, especially with one look at your sparkling eyes.

Emanating Jesus. I remember the time you told me the story about a little girl who looked into your eyes and saw Jesus. I whole-heartedly hope that I may have an experience like that some day and hope that if I get nothing else right, that I do this. You are such a great example of a devoted disciple.

Commitment. This is also one of the seeds that stands out to me. You taught me how to commit my all to things. I remember a few times I asked if I could quit a sport or some other activity. Each of these times I actually new full well that you would advise me to stay with it through the season and was actually most interested in the reminder of why I should. You always had a way of graciously telling me to stick with the commitments I made. My marriage is very grateful, this girl will never be giving up on her vow. I also love the way you are committed to attending church. Even if the rest of us are too lazy to go you are inspiring in your devotion to make it every week.

Financial responsibility. I remember when I was a kid at the store asking for some toy. I was always going to pay with my allowance but I felt compelled to ask you any way. I suppose even at a young age I knew my best decisions would be made if I sought your wisdom first. Anyway, I would ask and all you would ever say is “Kaia, do you need that?” That simple question was enough to usually have me put back the latest piece of plastic entertainment and if it wasn’t then we would know I really thought there was a good purpose for having it. To this day, I think that question every time I’m about to buy anything.

Painful honesty. Every time you find a cashier over paid you you are sure to return any extra. Whenever you can you will place lost objects back in the hands of its owner. And I don’t think you have ever lied to me. Even when I asked you about the birds and the bees at age five you were prepared to honestly reveal the workings to me. I remember only a sentence or two got out before I stopped you from telling me more.

Boy scout preparedness. You are known for having anything and everything you could possibly need or want on hand at all times. In your man purse you carry things like fingernail clippers, army knife, gum, and Advil, just to name a few. I took this legacy on at an early age, especially on road trips. I would bring any and every toy or mode of entertainment I thought I might need on the journey. Now, later in life, I’ve toned down what I take on trips and ask myself “Kaia, do you really need that?” in conjunction with my need for a sense of preparedness just to tone down on the baggage. In business, this lesson you departed on me is a major reason I have been so successful and seen as professional right out of college.

And finally, the art of list making. May it be a gift or a curse but I have lists all over. I love knowing that I will always have a comrade in you here because you were the one that showed me what a valuable way this was for me to effectively use my time and remember to do important things.

Dad, I love you like crazy and am so proud to have you as a dad. You have taught me so much and made me feel truly loved and cherished. You taught me to never be afraid to show my love for Christ, to be the unique nutty child I am, and to never hold back when it comes to loving others.

Musings of a Musician’s Wife: Musician’s Wife Lesson Number One

Posted on June 8, 2012 by Kaia Calhoun

Musician’s Wife Lesson Number One: Welcome your husband home.

It was my understanding that the best way to welcome Josh home was to clean sweep the whole house, make sure all the dishes are done, have a huge hug at the ready and probably a good ear for listening and maybe have homemade cookies at the ready and perhaps even some beer in the fridge. Whole new ball game in the realm of long absences.

This time around he was practically gone for two straight weeks and apparently I got into the rhythm of a workaholic hermit and didn’t know how to break out of it. Josh was suddenly at the ready making coffee and taking the dogs out, two things I’d grown used to doing myself before work, and because of it I was thrown all out of wack. As a result, I mostly wandered aimlessly from room to room before heading out the door without my lunch. His hands were also all over other things and I suddenly was no longer fully aware of how much of each item of food we had, where the handheld mixer went, or where my work shirt disappeared off to.

I thought the biggest struggle of a musician’s wife was to be the missing of the husband, but I guess I adapted to that quicker than I thought and didn’t even begin to realize the repercussions of his return or any sort of disturbance of ritual forming done in his absence. This is my next mission, welcome Josh back into our life, not just our home.