One year ago…
We flipped the switch. And the lights went out for the last time. For four years, we’d taught elementary school in neighboring classrooms.
Together.
We carpooled in the mornings and danced to our favorite jams. We ate lunch in our classrooms and supervised recess. We played dress up on spirit days and chaperoned field trips. We bandaged knees, held crying children in our arms, and tried to leave the school just a little better than we found it.
And we did it all. Together.
The last few weeks before our last day as teachers, we’d started packing up our classrooms and cleaning them out. We spent the first four years of our marriage in those classrooms, and the school felt like a second home to us. Digging through drawers sparked memories in our minds. The best kind of memories. The ones you never forget. And, like a sitcom finale, we stopped and cleaned out our memory banks with each other and our colleagues friends just as much as we cleaned our rooms.
When the last day of school came, we hugged the kids and parents goodbye. We’d gotten so used to children crying on our shoulders. It was a change to have parents crying on them, too, saying things like, You changed my child’s life, and I’ll never be able to repay you.
The one thing we always said during our four years as teachers is that we’d never regret one minute of it later in life. It’d never feel like wasted minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years. Like we’d given our time to “the man” and gotten nothing back. Because you can’t ever regret loving kids. And no one can pay you more than the compliment of changing someone’s life.
Once the goodbyes were finished, we made the long walk to Amy’s classroom for the very last time.
Together.
And we stood in her empty room.
Together.
The one that used to house Mrs. Demos and her fourth graders. The one that used to have Wild West posters on the walls. The one where books came to life and children became authors. The one where the memories lived.
We stood there in silence for a minute. Jordan flipped off the light switch for the last time, and Amy started to cry. She turned toward Jordan, held him tight, and with tears streaking down her cheeks, she sniffled and said, “We’re not going to be Mr. and Mrs. Demos anymore…”
To which Jordan, through a tear of his own, smiled and replied, “I’d rather be Amy and Jordan…”
Because, even though we were turning off the lights on one adventure, the lights were just flickering on in our new adventure as full-time photographers in love.
* * *
This week, we’re celebrating a very special anniversary in the Demos house: it’s been one full year since we made the leap from our day job to our dream job. We sat down for a live interview earlier this week to discuss the transition from full-time teachers to full-time photographers. You can watch the full 30 minutes here.
Twelve months ago, we couldn’t have imagined, in our wildest dreams, the adventure that God had planned for us. Not even close. He took our us-sized dreams and didn’t just supersize them. He God-sized them.
From seeing our work featured in People and The Huffington Post, to teaching at a national photography conference and speaking on the trade show floor at the world’s largest convention of wedding and portrait photographers, to photographing OUR photography mentors and more, like The Hunger Games gamemaker, He choreographed it all.
And we’re thankful — so thankful — for our family and friends and their unwavering support and encouragement. For the pastors who keep us focused and the mentors and coaches who’ve guided us along the way. For the new people we’ve met in the last year, and the way they’ve enriched our life, and for the people we haven’t met yet, but who join us here every day. Thank you one. Thank you all. Thank you from the bottom of our heart.
We don’t know what the next year will bring. Heck! Most days we don’t even know what the afternoon will bring! But we’re excited, because if it’s anything like the last one, we’re in for one amazingly wild ride…
