Photographs — Blog — Elizabeth M. Johnson, MA

For You

Relationship Red Flags ebook

Professional Trainings

Personal growth webinars

Wondermine podcast

Elizabeth M. Johnson, MA

All tagged Photographs

Apr 16
Apr 16 Ourselves, our children

Elizabeth M. Johnson, MA

Mothering, parenting, Personal history

© Copyright Elizabeth M. Johnson 2013-2024 • Privacy Policy

After a highly productive Wednesday, I stumped myself today with “ what am I really trying to say?” 😆in the piece that I’m currently working on. I couldn’t come up with a clean answer so I stopped. And pivoted to Substack to

Instead of a baby sailing across the pond🤣, it’ll be me (and my family) in July!

If you get my Substack, you know this already but if not (what the heck are you even doing😇) I’m excited to share that my family and I are headed to Berl

2021–my kiddo and I post-voting, masks dangling, stickers shining.

Like you, I’m sorting through shiny stats and smiling faces on the kind of card stock that most teachers put on their Amazon wishlists. There are many names on my ballot*

Little Elizabeth learned she could be anything she wanted to be. She was that smart. She was so smart, in fact, that she grew up to become the woman who does everything. Because of course there was nothing she couldn’t do.

What little E didn&

“I’d like you to speak at my services, if possible.”
.
and while I had agreed in a heartbeat@In the end, though, I wasn’t able to. 💔
I hope that an offering of my writing is something Anita would approve of instead. My newest

I like to talk about Coretta Scott King, Dr King’s window, on and around January 16. If it wasn’t for her diligence and passion, there would be no federal holiday commemorating this great man. Very few great men (who are they anyway?) are

Instead of “new year, new you,” we talk - again and LOUDER- about some of the old shit that still needs fixing? Anyone with me?

A few months back I was standing in the upstairs bathroom with my daughter.

She likes us to brush our teeth together, so I was waiting for her. I heard a distant sound float upstairs. I glanced at the top of the stairway in our narrow hallway. As I