I never quite know who’s story I’m supposed to tell on this blog - yours or mine? Perhaps this is one is ours; it belongs to all of us because we belong to each other and we’re all just walking each other home. Those are the words of Ram Dass, not my own.

Most of the work I do these days is commercial in a studio. I’m manipulating the light with diffusers and metering every few minutes or so. Hopefully, everyone’s been to hair and makeup that morning. I love curating images to help people in their careers.

I try to stay as grateful as humanly possible, even though - if I’m honest, and I try to be - making a living as a photographer in an industry many say is saturated isn’t always easy. Sometimes I wonder…when I factor in healthcare, taxes and expenses, and depreciation - of my spine, neck, shoulders, and equipment - as well as all the time spent answering emails, culling images and editing images, delivering galleries, and ordering prints…is what I do still worth it? Granted, I crunch numbers quarterly, if not monthly, to ensure my business is financially sustainable. So, I suppose what I’m really wondering is if my work has value? Is it important? Is it making a difference in my community?

I hope so. Because, I love what I do, and I understand how unique and fortunate I am to do so. This brings me full-circle back to gratitude -

For the clients who continue to hire me and forward my newsletters and share my posts and say “Oh, you have got to work with Amber.”

For the moments I get to witness with a camera - moments so poignant, I’m laughing or crying…both…behind my lens.

For my friends and family - for, I can remember when they were the only ones asking me to photograph them.

This isn’t the usual stuff I post. I want to share some images from this adoption ceremony - not because it’s my best work…it’s not…but because I feel it’s some of my most meaningful. I remain in awe of portraiture as a medium through which to tell a story. And, these images tell a story of love and lifetime friendships and adoption, grief and redemption.

I would suggest that anyone who’s feeling down and disenchanted go sit in the courthouse on the Friday of the month when they finalize adoptions. They’re much the same every time. Crowds of people with children await the judge to arrive. The air feels full of anticipation and anxiety. Like cattle, we file into the courtroom which is always standing room only. A family’s name is called. The attorney goes before the judge with you and your soon-to-be-forever child and a few (or 40) of your chosen family. People cheer and cry, then cry and cheer. You take home a stuffed animal, which is a small consolation compared to the child for whom you’ve prayed.