Legacy

If you were to look up the definition of the word „grandparent” you would find a fairly mundane sort of definition. "The parents of a person’s father or mother" hardly does justice to the people it describes. It would be like saying the earth was a house for humans – while not untrue, there is so much more to it than that.

A grandparent is an extension of your own parents. They are there to teach you things that might not be of utmost importance to your own parents, but that’s what draws us to them. We love spending time with someone whose whole existance seems to revolve around our own. Who else teaches us corny jokes, lets us blow bubbles in our milk, and makes sure that we are sufficiently spoiled to exasperate our parents? It is their privilege to be the fun ones after a life of being the serious parents. Maybe that’s why so many people look forward to being grandparents, it makes a nice change from laying down the law!

As some of you know, my family had two weddings this summer, so there was a lot of coming and going from place to place. There were lots of preparations, running here and there getting last minute things, picking up people from the airport...the list could go on and on. In the midst of all of this, I did have time to plan a very short photo shoot with my grandparents. Don’t worry, I did the actual session the day after the last wedding, so I didn’t insist upon my photos over one of the most important events in a sibling’s life. I just made it known that I wanted to take their pictures for myself and for posterity’s sake.

The funny thing about it, oddly enough, was that I felt incredibly nervous. I think I was concerned that they wouldn’t want to sit down and stare into a camera, even if I was their grandaughter. I almost just decided to let it go, but something pushed me on. My family very rarely gathers all in one place, so I knew this might be my last time to document all of them. The day after the wedding, I set up my simple backdrop, got a rocking chair and called them in one at a time. They probably felt like I was calling them in for their individual mug shot, but I had a mission. I want my grandkids to know what they looked like, and (if possible from their expressions) who they were. I wanted to preserve their memory as best I could.

No matter who you are, sitting in front of a camera lens becomes a very vulnerable thing. A camera is not forgiving, it does not understand the imperfections that you wish to hide, it only documents the reality of what is in front of it. When you look into the lens, it seems to stare back at you and slowly peek into your very soul. It sounds strange, but isn’t it true? It’s like staring into the eyes of someone staring back at you, awkward and incredibly uncomfortable.

Maybe that’s why we dislike photos of ourselves so much. As human beings, we can look at someone through our rose colored glasses and see the ideal, but a camera is a lot less forgiving. It sees us as we are, not as we wish we were. Everyone who sees a photo of a friend or loved one praises it and thinks they look lovely, when all they themselves see is their white hairs and crooked smile. I would have to say it’s a pride issue – but an issue that every one of us deals with on some level.

For me, the experience might have started out awkward as I tried to figure out exactly what I wanted to document, but pretty soon my inner photographer took over. I think part of having an inner portrait photographer is having eyes to see a person – not just look at one. Of course, when it is a grandparent there is also a love that overshadows each photo taken.

Nana, the coin collector.

To be honest, there are some of my grandparents that I haven’t really had the opportunity to know on an incredibly deep level due to distance, so it made this session even more precious to me. It meant I could look into their faces and study them up close and see the effects the years have had on them. Each "imperfection" that told so many stories – hard and happy – drew some new emotion out of me. Sadness that I knew so little of their story (a lifetime is a lot to tell), but happiness that I can look into their eyes frankly and openly. Looking at the photos now, I realize that I love each one. Every wrinkle, each crooked tooth, each lopsided smile, and every grey and white hair, all come together to form the people that I love.  

This session not only makes me realize how important documenting the previous generation is, but it also reminds me of the importance of what they leave behind. Legacy is the word used to describe this phenomenon. Yet another word whose definition is deceptively ordinary, but whose implications are incredibly vast. "A thing handed down by a predecessor" only goes so far into the word. (Can you tell I like words?)

For those who have a pattern of legacy in their families, it means wisdom, love, faith, possibly even money passed down from a grandparent or great-grandparent. It has memories and (hopefully) warm feelings attached to it and is a very positive thing that we wish to pass on ourselves when our turn comes.

Papa's pockets are the precursor to the man-bag.

For those of us without such a pattern, it remains an abstract idea. It sounds warm and inviting, but without a real-life example, it is hard to know how to make it happen for our future generations. If this is you, never fear, there is hope. Find an example from those around you and learn from their life. It just takes a little humility to approach them and ask for advice and a some hard work and determination to make the changes that will make future generations proud to call you their ancestor.

I often think about how the past has affected my own life. I used to love to sit and listen to all the stories my parents and grandparents would tell about when they were kids and how the world was for them. I used to wish I was born back then and could have seen the things they did. I had the active imagination ready to insert myself into their shoes and live the memory through their eyes.

I’m sure this is why I have a fascination for history and a love to recreate photos in historic settings. All those stories ring in my ears as I imagine the next image I am going to take. They spark my curiosity to continually learn and seek knowledge about the past.

Their stories also keep me curious about how my own history will influence the future. Will I do something great to influence the world, or will I live a life that my own little world – my family – can be proud of and use as a template for their own lives?

Now can you see how important legacy is? One person’s life influences another, which influences another, which influences another, which changes the world. It seems rather far fetched, but trust me, this is how it works. Your legacy inspires the ones coming after you. Your choices affect the future, but praise God, they don’t define it!

Some of the best stories are of people who make mistakes, but against incredible odds, they change the ending of their story and make it better than the beginning. They make choices to leave a better legacy. Maybe they were born without much of a legacy to speak of, but through perseverance and grit they make the life they dreamed of. These are my favorite kinds of stories!

One of the saddest things to me is when a grandparent,  or someone who has so much history to share, decides to keep silent. They say that history repeats itself, but I believe it often occurs when the previous generation who lived it does not share with the next one. I know that there are often negative emotions, usually shame, associated with the past, and that is why many choose not to relive it, but that is exactly why these stories NEED to be told. Think of the pain and shame that could be spared for the next generation! Think of the wars that would never be fought and the peace that could replace them. Think of the legacy your story could create. Just think about it.

Shame has already stollen so much from the future. Don’t let it deprive the ones coming after you. Start the conversation and leave a legacy of wisdom and experience that could change someone’s life. Who knows? You just might change the world.

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. Psalm 34:5 

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.  John 8:36

And he said to the people of Israel, “When your children ask their fathers in times to come, ‘What do these stones mean?’ then you shall let your children know, ‘Israel passed over this Jordan on dry ground.’ Joshua 4:21-22

Models: Dixie Collins, Billy Sills, Marion Sills, Penny (Patricia) Luse, and Robert Luse - so grateful for the grandparents God blessed me with! 

Special thanks to - God for inspiration and perseverance. Monica Luse for being a stand in model and encouraging me to follow through, Rebecca Gordet for assisting, and Marion and Billy Sills for lending me the use of your living room and a few odds and ends to pull it together! Amanda LeBeouf for proofreading before I released it on the world. 

There were so many photos that I wanted to share, but due to the length of the post, I had to pick and choose. Hopefully someday they will see the light of day, but until then, please enjoy the ones I selected for your viewing pleasure!

Many blessings! 

~ Alyssa Kay

Romania Adventure

Romania - Land of rugged beauty, deep cultural and religious history, and a people as strong as their Dacian ancestors. Few people can visit without it leaving a deep impression that constantly becons them to return. Is it the hospitality of the Romanian people, the beautiful landscape, or the many ancient places that draw you in?

For me personally, a place is nothing without it’s people, and Romania is no different. What makes it Romania is the fierce survival instinct written on every face. They don’t have a few thousand years of history for nothing. There are so many stories of a Romania nearly vanquished, yet a strong leader arises and leads it’s people to victory against overwhelming odds. Even fairly recent history shows this as you look at the revolution of 1989 when Romania arose as a people to overthrow the dictator. You have to admire a people like that.

Tiahna and I landed in Romania and after a taxi ride to the train station in Bucuresti (Bucharest), and waiting for our train, we boarded and found our compartment in first class. Now,  I honestly don’t know what Tiahna expected when I told her that my friend Cristina had reserved first class tickets, but I knew it wouldn’t be anything extravagant. I had to laugh when she sat down in her seat and the headrest fell off behind her. Welcome to Romania!

Streets of Hunedoara. Goat dance seen in the distance from a 3rd floor vantage point.

This isn’t me dissing Romania, you understand, I just knew that it wouldn’t be what we would think of in the US. First class just meant that we would be in a more private situation that would be safer for girls traveling across country alone. Even though I feel safe in Romania, it’s a good practice in general to take precautions when you travel. And I’m so glad we did, because we were in the same compartment with three older gentlemen that were some of the dearest strangers I’ve ever met.

We didn’t talk to them a whole lot, but since we had an eight hour train ride, it was very interesting to listen to their conversation. They talked of their time in the military (it used to be mandatory for many years that young people would spend 2 years in the military) and I believe they spoke of what life was like under communism. I had to smile at all of their stories. They asked me a few questions, but in general we didn’t speak much, as Tiahna and I were tired after traveling for about 16 hours at that point and were trying to doze as much as we could.

Cristina and Tiahna enjoying the goat dance.

 I ended up curling myself up in an interesting way and trying to sleep and keep warm. I was nearly asleep when I felt a fairly decent weight fall on top of me and I sat upright in a hurry. One of the elderly gentlemen held up his hands and told me that my back was exposed and I was cold and I should lay back down. He had thrown one of their warm winter jackets over me to cover me and keep me warm. Tiahna said her heart melted when she saw what he had done, and I couldn’t help but think how appropriate for this to be her first experience with the Romanian people. It is something that still makes me smile to this day. It reminds me of what God does for us – he covers us under the shadow of His wing of protection. (Ps. 91:4) Such a beautiful picture.

How can I describe coming home after two years of absence? Joy, peace, inward dancing, sadness at the thought of knowing it wouldn’t last this time, all played inside of my heart as we got off the train in Deva and the pastor of my Romanian church drove us to my friend’s house in Hunedoara. Every sight, sound, and smell brought back a plethora of memories that had long been dormant. Oh, the beautiful ache of those memories. But enough of that, I had come to make new memories to treasure.

Christmas is one of my favorite times in Romania. It’s hard to explain, but Christmas feels more Christmasy in Romania. There are so many traditions that manifest themselves around that time of year that lend to this feeling. One of the traditions that happens every year is the Gypsy Goat dance. Groups dressed in costume roam the streets, beating on drums, sing and act out the elaborate story of the goat. There are several othercharacters that play their roles, and a few different version from what I’ve seen of the story, but it is fun to watch and listen to the din of their song as they go from shop to shop or block to block singing for donations. I tried to find something online to explain the significance of the dance, but I couldn’t find any detailed explanation in English, but maybe some day I’ll be able to photographically document and write the story for anyone interested.

Alina and Cristina 

Another tradition is caroling. We go every Christmas Eve and carol late into the night. Unfortunately, due to getting sick soon after arriving, I was only able to go out from 6 pm-11 pm, and couldn’t sing very much due to lack of voice, but I had to go to be apart of it. I don’t have any pictures (besides phone ones), but believe me, it is a wonderful experience! Sometimes you just gotta put down the camera, and experience the life right in front of you.

Corvin Castle

We had Christmas dinner with a wonderful family and ate a lot of food, as you do at any holiday in Romania. I was just so sick that I didn’t enjoy it to it’s full like I would have wanted to, but I am so very grateful for the time spent with friends, old and new. I honestly think that there is no place like home for the holidays. Plus, I had the added blessing of introducing Tiahna to traditional Romanian food such as Sarmale (stuffed cabbage rolls) and one of my favorite deserts, Cremes (a kind of custard pastry).

Razvan

Everywhere we went, people welcomed us with open arms. Tiahna said that she felt like she never stopped eating. Apparently, at one point we went into someone’s house and she ate without ever being introduced to them. I had to smile, because that’s just how it is in Romania. People like to make their guests (introduced or not) feel welcomed. I think we could learn a thing or two from Romania, don’t you?

The time in Hunedoara was way too short, but we spent it photographing people (the traditional photo shoot, and the family), historic places, and good times. We had some fun exploring the Corvin castle soon after we arrived, and I was able to grab a few quick shots of my friends Cristina and Razvan, and, of course, Tiahna too.

Although I’ve been so many times that it’s hard to count, it never really gets old showing people such a historic site. One’s imagination runs wild as you walk the cobblestones of the courtyard, picturing the lives lived and lost in those halls. Sometimes I wish that walls could not only talk, but that places could project images, almost like an immersion movie, so you could live certain significant moments in time. I guess that’s for future generations to invent, I just hope I’m around when they do. (Seriously, someone get on that!)

The short time was worth it for all the hugs and tears and joy that it brought. It was almost like a recharge until the next time. I didn’t get to see everyone, but I was blessed to see as many as I did. It just means I need to go back sooner to see everyone I missed, right?

 Lacul Rosu area. Tiahna Lynn Photography, edited by Alyssa Kay Photography, used with permission.

The fateful day finally came when Tiahna and I had to say good-bye to my beloved Romania family and to travel further north to meet up with my parents. I got only a few hours with a good friend of mine since she just got back from a trip in the early hours of the morning we left, but I cherished even those few moments. It’s hard to leave a place that has been home for so long. I’m convinved that life is just one long process of letting go and learning to fly, but knowing that there is always a nest to rest your wings. At least that is one way that I comfort myself in my long absenses.

Lacul Rosu area. Tiahna Lynn Photography, edited by Alyssa Kay Photography, used with permission.

After anther train trip, an interesting cab ride, a joyful reunion, a fun walk around the city streets of Targu Mures (have I mentioned how much I love how Romania decorates it’s cities during the holidays?), an overnight stay at a fun hotel, breakfast, and a car that DID NOT want to start the next morning, we finally were on our way to the city of Iasi. On our way, we drove through one of my favorite areas of Romania – Lacul Rosu (Red Lake). It is gorgeous no matter what time of year you go, but it was a new experience for me seeing it in the snow. Wow, just wow. It just makes you smile at God’s creativity. Of course, it was an adventure for my parents driving the narrow road with all the snow in our 9 seater van that I lovingly refer to as the Luse Cruise Ship,but it was also an adventure for T and I as we tried not to freeze in the back seat due to the heater being broken. It seemed that no matter how I wrapped myself in a blanket, I was still freezing! Still, memories that I cherish because they were experiences with people I hold dear.

Back of the Cultural Palace, Iasi. Tiahna Lynn Photography - used with permission.

Iasi – The cultural capital of Romania and the largest city in Eastern Romania, from what I understand of it. It is a huge center of religious activity with several Orthodox churches scattered throughout the city, and it is also a huge college town, which is one of the reasons my parents moved so far accross the country. They joined a ministry that reaches out to the foreign students in Iasi, so we had to opportunity to meet and get to know so many precious people in our short stay. They also work with a local Romanian Baptist church and other Romanian pastors in various capacities...and many, many other things. To put it mildly, they are busy, and I guess maybe that is where I get the need for a lot of activity in my own life – I’m telling you, parental influence goes deep.

Probably the only picture of the two of us we have!

New Years was a fairly laid back evening for us, since T and I were both kind of still in recovery (Yes, she caught what I had, but I pumped her full of garlic and ginger and she got better much quicker than I did, even if she detested the remedy!) and my dad was also a little under the weather. Besides the explosion of fireworks that is inevitable in Romania as the New Year dawns, we rang in the New year fairly calmly. We did go outside and a firework (just a noise maker) got a little loud for our liking, but besides that it was beautiful to watch. The echoes of the fireworks resounding off of all the block apartment buildings seemed to escalate the actual sound which just meant that you could not doubt that the New Year was upon us, even if you tried.

Claudia - Picture by Tiahna Lynn Photography, Edited by Alyssa Kay Photography. Used with permission.

In our various outings with the young people from the church, we had some photographic opportunities not only of the city and it’s picturesque cathedrals and Cultural Palace, but of the fun personalities that constantly surrounded us. At one point we kind of got snowed in, so we stayed in a coffee shop for awhile as we watched the wind whip aroundoutside and saw people trying to get inside as soon as possible. The wind was so bad that it took your breath away. All that said, the snow was still beautiful, and the fellowship that cold weather encouraged was sweet.

Anna

T and I had the opportunity to teach a small class on photography and (I think) we enjoyed ourselves and all the people eager to learn what we were able to convey. Again, we were not sure if the weather would permit, but they were eager and came anyway. It’s fun sharing knowledge with people who are eager to learn! It made me miss the environment that school can offer – creativity flowing from every corner of every room and that feeling that you could ask for help or give help to anyone – I miss that.

My never ending obsession with hands...

I can’t say that I took very many pictures in Iasi, but I think it’s because I wanted to experience it. I do wish that I had captured some of them because they are so fascinating as people from several different cultures (international students, remember), but I cannot regret just spendingquality time with them. As a photographer, I think you can get so caught up documenting the moment that you miss it entirely. Sometimes presence is more important than pictures. Did a photographer just say that? WHAT?!?! Yes, I did. Maybe it helps that I have been to Iasi before so I didn’t feel the need to snap away, but it is something that I think of often either way. When you have the camera, you tend to hide behind this need to capture everything, and in the end, you experience nothing. It’s one thing if it is your job and you capture someone else’s experience for them, but if it’s you, wouldn’t you rather remember jumping into the ocean, rather than be the one standing on the shore? Wouldn’t you rather say, „I did.” Than „I remember when you did...” ?

So, I’m not appoligizing for the few pictures I have of Iasi. I have some precious memories of new friends made, and new experiences had. I spent quality time with my parents that I hadn’t had in over a year. Do I regret putting the camera down and looking into the eyes of people around me? Never.

I can honestly say that in that short trip to Hunedoara and Iasi – I lived.

Models – Tiahna Somero, Cristina Turiceanu, Alina Turiceanu, Razvan Bolota, Anna and Claudia, Neli, Chanelle, and Dorian,  (Shadow picture) You guys are the best!

Locations – Hunedoara, Lacul Rosu, Iasi - Romania

Special thanks to the Reinerth Family for the Christmas dinner and Heidi, Cristina, and Alina for having us to stay with them. Thanks also to my dad and mom – Ken and Monica Luse for coming to get us halfway and Emi and Fabi Goicovici for driving us to and from the train. There are just way too many people to thank, but you are all precious to us. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

God bless you all!

~ Alyssa Kay

When Briefly In Rome...

Ah, nostalgia, how can I describe thee? You are like a comforting hello mixed with the inevitable painful goodbye. I miss these places and all the memories made in them, but in writing and sharing them I can relive the moment, if only for a short while. You will indulge me, won’t you?

Rome: City of history and wonder. Unfortunately, I think it is hard to form a really informed opinion based upon a few hourse of experience, but I’m going to give a visitor’s first impression as best I can.

Tiahna and I were sittin in the airport for our extended layover (something like 7 or more hours), and had previously decided just to relax since we didn’t really have time to do much of anything anyway. Let’s be honest, though, as photographers and wandering adventurers, we each secretly wanted to go into Rome, but had decided based on our travel plan (plane to Romania, long train ride to our destination) that we would just rest until our next flight.

We decided to Skype my parents and my mother encouraged us to go in. "You can either sit in the airport or sit on the bus and possibly see something." With an argument like that, who wouldn’t make a hasty exit? Yet another reason why I love my parents – they enable my adventurous spirit. More parents need to be enablers and encourage their kids that they can do great things. It all starts with this curious, adventurous nature that is seeking to break through each one of us, if we let it, but few of us have the courage to let it out if we are not first encouraged that we can do it. It makes a huge difference to know that your parents are behind you when you go somewhere, it gives you the courage to go for it, knowing that your folks believe in you. Even as an adult, it makes a difference.

I can just hear my former instructors saying, "No railroad track pictures!" Relax, guys, they are tram tracks and it is used for foot traffic too. (At least that's the story I'm telling.)

Now, I said "hasty exit" before to indicate our state of mind, not the reality of actualy events. I’m not going to go into our walking around in circles to find a way out, asking a few people, finally being directed to go out the employee exit (say what?), buying bus tickets but deciding we didn’t need to buy return tickets right then, waiting in line for a long time, turning around after getting on the bus and not seeing Tiahna because she had to put her bag under the bus (but not knowing that until she told me later), and the worry that accompanied not seeing her until her slightly annoyed and concerned-for-her-bag face finally appeared and I could breathe a sigh of relief...I’m not going to go into all that. I want to talk about Rome.

I’m just guessing, and I feel like I am right, but I don’t think that December is the optimal time of year to go to Italy in general. There are probably nicer months to explore the ancient ruins and walk the streets as you experience the culture. However, a city is still a city in the winter months, and I think to truly get the essence of a place, you do need to visit in the "off-season." As it is, my opinion can only really be half-formed, but I hope one day to go back in the tourist season to see the excitement and agitation that occurs in that time of year. Also, as with any writing, take everything with a grain of salt – know that you must judge for yourself, not just take whatever I have to say and run with it!

Our bus ride into Rome at first filled me with a kind of sadness. I don’t have any photos to explain what I mean, because I didn’t want that to be my memory of Rome, but it definitely has stuck with me. On the outskirts of town, it was almost like the world had emptied their pockets of all garbage and finished up their drinks of whatever bottled beverage and casually thrown them on the ground, as if to relieve themselves of all burdens before entering the city. Now, I don’t honestly know what the state of littering is in Italy, and it shouldn’t have surprised me since I’ve seen it many times before elsewhere, but for some reason, I was shocked. I guess I just pictured such a famous location as being clean, but the truth is, the more people that come through, the more maintenance is required. I think my first feelings were ones of remorse, that such a great and beautiful city would be treated in such a way. She seemed like an old friend who has been disrespected by people that couldn’t have cared less. I wished to help her back onto her feet, and help her on her way, but I realized that I was just a visitor in this ancient city, and I would have to content my self with the experience. The truth is, I have no idea if there are efforts to clean up the surrounding areas, or not, so I cannot assume that the residents don’t care. I am sure that they care a great deal, and I will be glad to hear of any humanitarian efforts underway!

She'll probably hate this, but it makes me smile and shows her personality so well!

Moving on from first impressions, as we entered the city, the architecture immediately grabbed my attention. If you’ve ever been to any historic European city, you know that there is a unique almost antique feeling in the atmosphere. And when I say antique, I mean in the vintage, historic, make you want to time travel, sort of antique, not the antiquated, old, possibly dingy, needs an update, kind of antique. The feeling that the first definition produces is one of my favorites. I am not naive enough to think that I would like to live back in the day, I know I am too accustomed to this day, but I would give a lot to be able to time travel and experience history as it happened. I feel that way so often when I visit historic places. Who doesn’t?

By the time we made it through all of the traffic to the central station in Rome, we had about an hour to do the two things we wanted to do. Take a picture, and drink an Italian coffee. Due to circumstances (wandering around trying to find a return bus ticket so we had it for later), we only had time to do one of those – take pictures. We walked down one street, took some pictures as we went, and had to turn back around for our bus. I can almost hear the collective "Wow...” I did tell you that this is just a first impression, not a well educated post. I would definitely like to go back to round out my opinion.

PC: Tiahna Lynn Photography

However, even walking down that one street in Rome, wandering , trying to convince vendors trying to sell us tours that we literally had no time, taking in all the mopeds and little cars...it leaves you with this incredible feeling. A city that has been alive for such a long time has such an incredible heartbeat, and you can feel it in the streets. It’s not only in the sights, but in the sounds and the smells too. How does one describe such a thing? It is something that must be experienced first hand. Part of me wishes I had the ability to describe the din of the traffic, the vendors calling out to you, the sound of many feet walking on the sidewalks hurrying to their various destinations, and the sound of mopeds hurrying by...I wish I could describe the scent of the rain in the air either on its way or passed, the smell of the various restaurants wafting along and combining into one interesting amalgamation of aroma, or just the smell of the streets themselves. But I know that if you take my word for it, it’s a disservice to Rome. Please, do yourself an enormous favour, and go adventuring in Rome. I only saw the station and basically just one side street, and it left me hungry for more!

I’m not going to go into detail about our bus being late, exchanging tickets for a new bus that showed up, sitting on said bus for about a half an hour (probably more) anxious about making our flight, taking about an hour on the bus to the airport through traffic, making peace with missing our flight, and yet secretly hoping we made it, running like mad women through the airport, and barely actually making our flight to Romania... too much to go into right now, but suffice it to say that we made it! Obviously, the adventure is never-ending.

I have decided to leave you this time with Rome, and to pick up next time with my beloved Romania. I don’t want this post to be too long and get too wordy for enjoyment. Thank you all for your time and for putting up with my attempt at keeping this blog alive!

God bless!

~Alyssa Kay

Model and Fellow Wanderer: Tiahna Somero

Location: Rome, Italy

*All photos are property of Alyssa Kay Photography or Tiahna Lynn Photography and may not be used without permission.

Family Matters

Family: A group of people, usually of the same blood (but do not have to be), who genuinely love, trust, care about, and look out for each other. Not to be mistaken with relatives sharing the same household who hate each other. REAL family is a bondage that cannot be broken by any means. – by Lola5544 - Urban Dictionary

Ah, Family. Say what you will about them - fight with them, love or "hate” them, wrestle (figuratively and literally) or dance with them, smile or frown at them, laugh with and at them –whatever the case, they make up the core of who we are and help guide us on the path to who we become.  

Before I left for my trip to Romania, my friend Cristina asked me if I wouldn’t donate my time and talent to photograph a family that had never had a real family photo of themselves taken. They were a large family and any time I think about wrangling a large group of people, my first instinct is the shy away. Not because I don’t like people – I love them – but because I know that it takes a lot of energy to keep large groups engaged.

Let’s face it, how many times have you stood in front of the camera for a holiday photo with the fam and dreaded every moment? „Sit up straight!” „Smile at the camera!” „Why aren’t you smiling?” „The faster you smile the sooner we’ll be done!” Who doesn’t remember that torture? As kids we didn’t really feel the benefit of the moment. We stood tall, erect, looking into the camera with pasted on smiles, all to please our parents, but after the last photo was taken and we could no longer feel our cheeks, what did we receive for our efforts? A picture. Oh, joy.

As an adult, I know the importance of preserving memories and all the efforts of my own childhood to smile at the camera finally make sense and are so incredibly worth it. I’m sure that’s why I enjoy what I do now so much. Documenting memories is so satisfying because you know that you are not providing a perishable service, but a lifetime treasure. I’m providing a frozen moment in time that families can eventually look back on and smile at the memory. It is a spark to kindle the flame of rememberance in a mind that has almost forgotten what life was like „way back then.”

 So, you can imagine that I had no frame of reference for a family who had never had their family photo taken. (I’m sure that they’ve had snapshots taken of themselves.) Sure, our family photos were always taken by my parents and we only ever had professional photos of us kids done as youngsters, but we had at least gotten our family photos taken. It surprised and even saddened me that a family didn’t have those memories year after year. So, obviously, I felt that it was important! I felt that I had to take their photos and I felt excitement to give the precious gift of memories.

On the day of the photo shoot, I knew that I wanted to use window light. I love the soft, beautiful feeling that it gives. I know most photographers these days take family photos outdoors, and I definitely do too, but I just had a feeling about these photos and I couldn’t resist the urge. It was difficult in such a small space, but I believe that it was so worth it. After all, are you really a photographer if you can’t perform in a tight space under pressure? I’m convinced that you have to enjoy a good challenge to be successful.

As I photographed each child, it was beautiful to see their interaction with their parents and siblings. I think some people fear having large families because they fear they only have so much to give, but if you know anything about love, that’s not how it works. The more you give, the more you have. And if you’re like me and believe that God provides, it might be hard, but it is always worthwhile.

As one of four kids myself, I can tell you, life wasn’t always easy, but I refuse to imagine my life without even one of my siblings. You learn so many different things from each family member that I really feel like my life education would be somehow lacking without every single one.

Parents teach you how to react to your world, how to treat authority and to understand consequences to actions. They teach you how to respect those over you and to take on responsibility as you grow. They are your model for love and help define what marriage looks like in a family setting. In short, they show us how to adult and give us something to aspire to someday.   

Older siblings are the second in command. They are the right hand young men and women of the parents and help younger siblings learn that in life there will be many different tiers of authority to answer to. Older siblings are the protectors and helpers of the younger. They come alongside younger siblings and help teach them how to do the tasks their parents ask of them. They are often the responsible and practical ones, but contrary to popular opinion, they are not really sticks in the mud. Dishes, folding laundry, and learning to read can be much more fun when an older sibling is around!

Middle siblings are often lost in the tumult of the olders trying to help the youngers (They are the youngers until even younger ones come along.), but are so important to family life. Much like peanut butter and jelly, they are the glue that holds the family sandwich together. (I can say this because I was a middle child, well, older middle.) Not to be left out of the action, they provide endless entertainment to the whole family. They tend to be some of the most creative, since they have to figure out ways of entertaining themselves while parents and olders are taking care of youngers. Don’t worry, it’s not as depressing as it sounds. Parents absolutely care about them, they just trust them to take care of themselves while the youngers naturally need more close attention.

And who can forget the younger siblings? The babies of the family. Often everyone has a hand in raising the youngers, so they provide a sense of belonging, or purpose, but each has a different part. Parents nurture and discipline, olders instruct and encourage, middles give imagination and play, and all protect. It can get a little out of hand sometimes, when the youngers get older and naturally expect others to do everything for them like always, but this can be overcome as they take on more responsibility themselves. They are often the most sensitive and caring, even in the midst of this expectation. I find my younger siblings to be  great gift givers and good at seeing someone’s need to be comforted. I think having so many hands raise them shows them how different people show love, so naturally they begin to observe how people tick.

You don’t have to come from a crazy large family for this to apply to you. Maybe you’re an only child, which means you’re a combination of all three. Respect, my friend, that’s hard and a lot on your plate! Maybe you’re one of two. You can be a combination of and older and a middle, or a younger and a middle – vying for attention, but also responsible, or expecting to be taken care of...the combinations really are endlessand all have valid difficulties. Thank the Lord that it is all worthwhile!

I know I am speaking in an ideal sense about families and this has not been many people’s experience. I know brokenness is rampant in our culture, but I also believe in God and the power of family. Even if you can’t be around your own family, you can create the environment you wish you would have had. That’s pretty powerful stuff.

As I finished the shoot, we had a moment of worship and prayer, which is also a part of things that parents do – instructing children in the way they should go. (Proverbs 22:6) Mr. Bociat brought out his Shofar (significant in Judaism and Christianity) and made it sound throughout the small apartment. As it echoed all around, I was reminded of God’s leadership and how He is the perfect Father teaching us to be perseverant and loving to all around us – whether we are parents or children.

I want to leave you now with this final thought. Make memories and take pictures. (Mental  or physical ones.) Pause, and take the moment in, because life goes by so fast. Trust God, trust your family, and create an environment that you will all want to duplicate someday. That way you will all have memories to share with your kids and grandkids. Don’t be afraid, just go for it!

Family is the legacy that lives on long after we are gone.

 ~Alyssa Kay

A HUGE Thank You to:

Models:   The Bociat Family – Seriously, some of the sweetest people in the world!

Asisstants: Tiahna Somero, Cristina Turiceanu, Alina Turiceanu – Tiahna for lending her camera and perspective and all of them for being  pretty much amazing! Great with keeping smiles on kids faces!

God – For creativity and ability

All of you – For doing me the honor of making it this far!

Romania - My Heart

Well, here we are, everyone. The inevitably awkward first blog post.

Most of you will scroll and look at the pictures and move on without reading. GO FOR IT!  I am totally the same way, so no hard feelings. (Maybe this is the time I should appologize to every blog that I have ever been to?)

 Let’s be honest, when you stumble upon someone’s blog, you like it if they have a few pages of content. It gives them an air of credibility, almost like they know what they are doing and you can trust them. Whether we read it or not, if we search the web for answers, we are more likely to take the word of a seasoned blogger, than the aspiring newbie. Life cred isn’t the biggest factor, it’s internet cred. It’s ok, that’s definitely me too, so I don’t expect you to take my word yet. Of course, a few thousand posts in, I might raise my expectations a touch!

Since it is my first post, I figured I would talk about something that means a lot to me. That something would be – Romanian culture. Now, when I talk about Romania a lot of people think that I am Romanian and I come from a long line of Romanians, but let me set this straight now. To my knowledge, no Romanian blood runs through these veins. Lots of French, German, Irish, and Native American (if I missed a culture my family will definitely correct me), but unless some clandestine Romanian moved to the United States and married into my ancestry, I am not Romanian.

However, that is the great thing about culture. You don’t have to be Romanian to be Romanian. Sure, my blood would tell me I’m not and my family tree would wag it’s head at me for having such delusions, but I choose to ignore that. Like so many of this generation,  I choose to live in denial, I have made the choice to believe that what my heart tells me is true. I am Romanian.

Those of you who love another culture understand exactly where I’m coming from. You can love your homeland and yet feel like you belong in another place. It is possible. (Perhaps someday I’ll get into my life story, but today I am trying to stay focused! ) It doesn’t make you any less patriotic. If anyone messes with your homeland, you’re gonna go after them, and if anyone messes with your heartland, you’re gonna do the same!

It’s like adoption. You love your biological kids so very much, but that doesn’t mean you love your adopted children any less. If you do, then I don’t think you understand adoption...just sayin’.

At any rate, I love Romania. I believe that God has placed her on my heart in a very strong way. To what end, I am not yet sure, but I trust He will reveal it in His good timing.

You may be wondering how this whole Romania craze started for me, right? Well, it’s quite a long story and I might get to it someday, but the shortest of all possible versions is that my parents are missionaries in Romania. They do a lot of work with pastors and people in ministry in a city called Iaşi, Romania now, but when I was a kid we lived in a town called Hunedoară, and this is the county that these pictures were taken in.

I lived in this area – the Transilvania Valley (yes, that Transylvania) – for around 8 years of my life off and on since I was one month away from turning 12. Why the precision? When you’re that age and you make a major life change, like, oh, I don’t know...moving cultures? You remember things like that.

I can’t say that I loved it for the first four years I lived there for many and various reasons, but suffice it to say, God changed my heart completely from the start to end and now there is no where I would rather be. Although I don’t mind living in central Massachusetts, I miss not being there among the people, submerged in the culture.

This Christmas-New Year season I was able to travel back and visit friends and family. My beautiful friend Tiahna of Tiahna Lynn Photography traveled with me. I couldn’t wait to show her around my country and let her experience all the intricacies and weirdness that is inevitable with any culture that differs from your own. I know she regrets nothing in coming with me! (Hehe, another convert made.)

The one thing I wanted more than anything was to begin to capture part of Romanian culture. I have always been fascinated with culture, and I think something that differs vastly from culture to culture is their traditional outfit. I mean, America doesn’treally have that, unless you call jeans and flip flops and national costume, then we definitely have one!

The more I learned about the Romanian costume, the more fascinated I became.

Disclaimer: I am in NO WAY an expert on this subject. Do not take my word for this. (Remember, my first blog, so, what would I know?) I had some helpful friends point me in the direction of some helpful articles and youtube videos. (What would I ever do without the internet?)

There are so many different outfits all over the regions of Romania, but I am only going to focus on the one that I photographed, so bear with me, and if you know more than I do, feel free to share the knowledge! I love to learn new things.

This costume comes from the Region of the „Foresters” of people of the forest. It’s up in the Poiana Ruscă Mountains in the county of Hunedoară. It’s a fairly isolated place, but with this isolation is a feeling of such peace and serenity. The air is clear and crisp, especially after the snow that we had the night before we went up to the small village of Hăşdău. The roads are narrow, and fairly old, but it just lends to the air of stepping into another time. Kind of like entering a fairy, I guess. You can feel the traditional values by the way the community lives in their day to day lives.

My dear friend Cristina introduced me to Adelina, the young lady that agreed to be my model for the day. She was very sweet and her family invited us in while she got ready and fed us a delicious pastry and some wonderful coffee while we waited. Tiahna said that she never seemed to stop eating since she got to Romania, and she was never actually introduced to the family. I guess the day was such a wirlwind that somehow we missed that...but they still treated us with typical Romanian hospitality - friendship and food.

Adelina was wearing her grandmother’s costume and possibly some things borrowed from a neighbour. In and of itself, that shows the culture. They are very community and family orientated like very few places these days. For example, As we walked through the village, I began to wish I had brought a bucket as a prop, so she just called at the front gate of a house and borrowed one from someone in the village – that’s community. Did I mention it was the perfect color? (Another reason I believe in God, not coincidence.)

From all accounts, the young unmarried women wear the costumes with the brightest color - Red. So, of course, hers is full of reds and her head covering has a bright floral pattern – also red.

The hand stitching is very intricate and unfortunately it seems is becoming something of a lost art. I’m sure that is not the case everywhere, but it would be sad if it fell out of knowledge everywhere. I would hate to see Romania get swallowed up in the rest of the world and lost themselves...but I digress. There are many techinical terms for the kind of stitching done, but I’m not sure they really translate (a constant problem for conveying culture accurately).

Girls of 6 or 7 begin to learn to hand stitch by stitching the cuffs of the sleeves, but as they get older (10, 11), they work on the more intricate and difficult the arms. As I look at the beautiful stitching, I wish I had been more enthusiastic about sewing, no matter how bad I was at it, this shows that practice makes perfect!

The front of the shirt can contain up to 21 different technical kinds of stitching. Seriously, why didn’t I work harder? Each different stitch told you something about the person wearing it. Something like a silent introduction before verbally meeting them. I wonder if they actually wore their heart on their sleeve?

The front of the skirt is beautiful and apron-like. It came into the culture sometime after the first World War, from what I understand (again, not an expert, so anyone can correct me) and it has a leaf pattern on the edge – which is of oriental origin. It’s fascinating really, because so much history is in every stitch. I can only imagine out much work the lace was on the edges of the skirt! But I like to imagine someone lovingly stitching their finest work to wear about the village on a beautiful day.

This photo shoot was a dream come true for me. It’s sort of my tribute to the undying Romanian spirit. It’s my way of demonstrating the strength of a people with thousands of years of history, that has –despite so many odds- survived the generations. My only hope is that these photos did them justice.

There is a lot that I am leaving out, mostly because I don’t know how to do explain it in English and part of it because I don’t fully understand all of the symbolism myself. The other part is that I feel I have already written a novel and should give everyone a breather! My hope is, however, that it peaked interest in Romania and their fascinating culture and maybe just maybe makes people curious enough not to get stuck in their own, but adventure into this wonderful wide world we all inhabit.

After all, home is where the heart is, but if you don’t go, how will you know where your heart lies?

Special thanks to:

 Dani Hriţac – Our fearless driver along the snowy roads. (Also to Lenuţa, his wife, for letting him come with us.)

Adelina – For being such a sport and posing in the cold for amazing photographs!

The villagers – For lending us a bucket and letting us photograph in front of houses and haystacks.

Cristina, Tiahna, and Laur – For being amazing assistants and lifting me up when I needed help! You are the best!

                Alina – For being great company and a great support along the way.

                To everyone who fed us (because there were two families!) – You made my day!

                Thank you, Lord, for protection and vision.

                And to all of you who made it to the end of this post - wow, respect! I really do appreciate it! 

                ~ Alyssa Kay

Sources: https://amfostacolo.ro/romania-pareri,15/hunedoara,92,3905/o-zi-in-ghelari-tinutul-padurenilor,21100/impresii-sejur-si-fotografii-vacanta__44700.htm

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MCJtiVF3r4