I want to write a little about my personal journey. It started on February, 22, 1976. What led up to this journey was a series of events. For one, I had always wondered how to be sure I was going to go to heaven. Who were the people who were going? Was it the Lutherans? the Methodists?, the Catholics?, the Buddhists?, the Hindus?, the Muslims? Which one of these groups was the sure thing to get me to heaven? I even had a thought that if I became a member of every group, never mind the conflict, I would be sure to go to heaven. I eventually forgot about these thoughts.
Later, after I married and had three of my five children, I had been up in the night with one of them, the youngest, with croup. In the morning, about 5 am, the little one began to cry. I had been sleeping is a weird way and one or both of my feet were “asleep” , you know the feeling, or lack of feeling in a limb that falls “asleep”. I couldn’t feel it and it tingled a little. I had the thought that if I got up and walked on my feet I might break one of them and then my mom would have to come over and take care of me and the kids. Hmmm, that didn’t sound too bad to me, in the shameful state I was in. I chose to get up, and somehow I stepped on the top of my right foot, because I couldn’t feel it. I knew I hurt it but I didn’t know how much.
That very same morning, I had to take the little one into the doctor because of the terrible coughing that goes with croup. I sat in the waiting room just waiting (duh!) for our appointment. I noticed that my foot was swelling at a rapid rate and by the time I got into see the Dr. I could hardly walk. The Dr. was more concerned about my foot than the child. He asked me what was wrong with my foot. I told him, “NOTHING”! NOTHING is wrong with my foot. I felt so guilty. By this time I knew I had done something wrong with totally the wrong motive. I did have it x-rayed and it was broken. The Dr. wanted me to use crutches to get out of the office. Are you kidding me? I had a five month old baby and another one 17 months younger and then one quite a bit older than that with me. How could I walk out on crutches?
After, I got home, I called my mom, of course to give her the happy news that I had broken my foot and needed her help. She was not thrilled or sympathetic about it at all. She helped me and in a couple of days we all went to my father-in-laws for Thanksgiving and there were plenty of people to help me then, so I didn’t feel quite so badly.
The next Monday, I was scheduled to have a cast put on my foot. I never felt so guilty in all of my life. I had done plenty to feel guilty about, in my life I had lied, stolen money from my mom’s purse, lusted after things and lives others had, yes, seemingly little things, but still wrong.
Not too long after the foot healed I was channel flipping on the TV. I came across a TV show I had seen before and I had laughed at. This, time however, I felt like the man was talking directly to me about my sinful life. I felt so convicted, I knelt down in front of the TV and prayed with the man to ask Jesus to be my Lord and Savior. It was the best day of my life and the beginning of my journey with Jesus.
Walking with Jesus is not a walk in the park, where everything is warm and fuzzy and nothing ever goes wrong. It is not pain-free, or without struggles. I do get jealous of another photographer now and then. Yes, there are plenty of struggles in my journey and plenty of triumphs as well. I have learned to walk as close to Jesus as possible, by talking with Him through prayer and reading His word, the Bible. While I try to emulate Jesus in my life, I fail miserably at times when I am just downright rebellious and want to do what I want to do.
God has gifted me with artistic ability. I can, draw and paint, I designed and sewed the clothes for my five kids and the gowns for my girls when they went to prom, and I love to take pictures. I haven’t always honored that gift and have set it aside for other activities like raising kids, and other things. He called me back to it periodically, and when I got serious about photography, He gave me the joy of doing it that is so important to keep going.
I think more than anything, I shoot to honor God. I want to bless other people with my gift. With the ability to learn quickly and my love to pass on what I learn to other people. I get a lot of joy and happiness out of just sharing what I know with others. I believe that there is enough clients, and praise, and glory and honor for everyone and if I share with others my skills, I don’t have to think about if whomever I teach is going to get ahead of me. I hope they do. I am content to do what God would have me do and He will give me my hearts desire.
I know that this post is not about photography, but about me and my journey. It is important to me and I am not ashamed of it. I just wanted to share about it for those of you who can understand where I can coming from and hope it encourages you and you can share in it and for those of you who may want to be on a journey with Jesus of your own. So whatever happens, I know that God is well pleased and that is all that matters to me.
Thanks for stopping by.