An Intention Filled Wedding Day
We both know life slips away, and somehow, time moves differently on wedding days. If there is anything motherhood has taught me, it’s how time is a thief and you never know when the “last time __” will happen. You’ll hear people tell you, “Don’t blink, or it’ll all be over!” And while that may be a cliché, there’s something hauntingly (and annoyingly) true about it. This has made me look at weddings so much deeper with thoughtful intentionality of what moments would otherwise go missed or forgotten if not captured.
A wedding day is full of tiny, fleeting things you’ll never be able to recreate. The way your dad squeezes your hand before you take your first steps down the aisle, the sound of your friends laughing during dinner, forgetting your flowers as you walk back down the aisle because you were too excited to be married, the wind blowing your veil in your face during vows.
And the hard truth is, there will be countless moments of your day that will be missed, uncaptured, or never seen. This is why intentionality into the moments that do get preserved matters a lot. When the day is over and the flowers have wilted and the dress gets tucked safely in a box, and the memories begin to fade slowly with time, what remains is the feeling of when you let what matters most take priority in your day.
That’s why I honor the experience you and your guests have behind every photo by giving you space.
Space to forget about the camera.
Space to be present.
Space to savor.
Space to stare.
Space to wander, laugh, cry, linger, and actually experience the day you spent so much time preparing for.
As a photographer with years of experience, a college degree in professional writing, an eye for observation, and having been a bride myself, I’ve developed a meticulous understanding of when to direct and when to simply become a gentle witness to what is already unfolding in front of me.
Because I could tell you how to interact with each other. I could tell you how to hold yourselves, where to put your hands, when to smile, or how to recreate some picture-perfect moment. But then, when you look back at those photographs, you might always see the photographer behind them. I want you to see yourselves, your love, and the ways you have always expressed your love together. I want you to look at the photo, never think of the photographer, and say “wow if that isn’t so US.”
And the truth is—you don’t need that much help from me. I know this because I see it all the time. You’ll tell me “we’re awkward in front of a camera” because you’ve only ever had someone capture you posing, rather than capture you living.
People are the most beautiful when they are simply existing. When they forget they’re being photographed. When they’re mid-laugh. When someone’s hand naturally finds the other person’s. When you lean into each other without thinking about where your bodies are supposed to go.
Those are the photographs I’m looking for.
I’ll keep my eyes open for beautiful light, meaningful compositions, and the little things you may not even notice happening. I’ll step in when something needs thoughtful direction, but I won’t ask you to manufacture affection, repeat an intimate moment, or perform a version of yourselves for the camera.
I want you to look at your photographs years from now and remember how it felt to be there, not how well you followed a prompt. Your wedding day is not a show.
It’s not a performance.
It’s not a competition.
And it certainly isn’t meant to be controlled by a photo timeline.
Your wedding is a day in your actual life. It’s far from a perfect day but it is a day that marks a new story that is beginning: the story of “us.” So let it be yours.
Let the timeline have breathing room. Build in time to sit down and eat your dinner. Leave a few minutes to wander away from the crowd with your new spouse. Hug the people you love instead of worrying about whether you’re running five minutes behind. Have buffer time to let beautiful unplanned moments happen. You don’t have to spend your entire wedding day trying to make memories. You just have to be there for them.
Slowness is an honest, thoughtful opportunity to honor the love in your life and the way God has written your story. And I think there is something especially beautiful about that. God has been writing something uniquely yours—in the ordinary years, in the hard seasons, in the friendships that brought you here, in the people standing beside you, and in the person waiting for you at the end of the aisle. Your wedding day is simply one small, beautiful chapter in a story that began long before the photographer arrived and will continue long after the flowers have dried.
There are no rules to what a wedding day has to look like. There is no perfect way to get married. There is only this one day, with these particular people, in this particular season of your life. So make room for it.
And one day, when you look back, I hope your photographs don’t just remind you what your wedding looked like. I hope they remind you that you were there.
