Three Smudges Photography

The idea of “purpose” often comes up in counseling—those moments when people wonder, “Why am I here?” or “What am I meant to do that truly matters?” It’s a question that resonates deeply with many, one that can stir up confusion and even a sense of longing.

But in that space, I find myself considering the possibility: What if my entire purpose is something so subtle, so small, that it never even registers in the grand scheme of things? Something so infinitesimal that I might never even recognize the moment, or know it plays a bigger part in a much larger story.

This begs the question: Could it be that the very thing we seek to understand is in the fabric of someone else’s life? Could we be at peace with the idea of being the supporting character in another person’s journey? What if our purpose is not to be in the spotlight but to be the unassuming person who crosses someone’s path at just the right moment—delaying them from their next step, altering the course of their life in ways we may never fully grasp?

In essence, could we embrace the possibility that our purpose, as part of God’s grand and intricate design, might be woven into the moments that belong to someone else?








Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you…”

It’s been a while.

I have so many wonderful pictures of families and people that I have been taking but just haven’t had the urge or words to post. There is something nice about not feeling the pressure, but I also still feel like I have the words all swirling around inside of me. It’s no secret that it has always been cathartic.

The question I get asked a lot is, “Are you still taking pictures.” And my resounding answer is always, Of Course.

Photography might have saved my life (metaphorically speaking because, Hello! Chemo...). It allowed me to build something of my own, it kept me grounded when I was taught that my life wasn’t really ever mine, and it reminded me of all the beauty in the world that always endures.

I had a professor in grad school tell me that there is a statistic of therapists who have photography as a hobby and the common thread is that it is the “study of people.” That gave me pause, and I thought about all the families who have welcomed me into their lives and whose kids I have watched grow and evolve each year.

Of course.Yes… it has always been a study of people.

I have been thinking about rebranding my page because I have rebranded my life. I think I might be a counselor with a photography problem.

What would you call that?

I have started my practicum for grad school. This is where I am placed with a facility, and I provide therapy as I finish my last year. ​​​​​​​​
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I thought I knew a little something about heartache and pain. Tragedy. Loss. ​​​​​​​​
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It turns out that when you talk to kids who have lived most of their lives inside the foster care system, they end up teaching you more about it than you thought you would ever want to know. ​​​​​​​​
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And the funny thing is... they still smile. ​​​​​​​​
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While traveling this year’s holiday season, I found myself on the beach watching one of my sons racing along the water’s edge. ​​​​​​​​
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At one point, I wasn’t clear if he was still racing or was coming back. This was a mirage-esque moment, and I found myself abundantly aware of the lack of awareness of whether or not he was running towards me or away.​​​​​​​​
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I thought about life and the expression, “Sometimes I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.” And how the journey of midlife has often felt very much that way. ​​​​​​​​
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I’m moving. For sure, I am running like one of my kids, with my legs pumping and feet digging in the sand and the wind rushing against my flushed cheeks while my hair whips in the wind- but the direction can feel a little circular at times. I have felt lost. ​​​​​​​​
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I watched The Family Man over Christmas with my kids. While it is not really a holiday movie- it is to me, and it is one of my favorites. In it, Nicholas Cage gets a little bit of a “do-over” because he gets to play out a part of life as if he had made a different decision, except he’s keenly aware of it. ​​​​​​​​
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In a scene, he asks his wife, Tea Leoni, if she’s certain or if she would make different decisions in life. ​​​​​​​​
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Her reply gets me every time. She admits that she’s not sure about anything, but when she thinks about changing things, she realizes that if she changes something, she erases the only things she is the most certain about in life. ​​​​​​​​
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I think the point is that it seems as long as the shore remains on one side and the ocean on the other. We continue to feel the wind in our faces and pump those arms… then, regardless of whether or not we are coming or going, I guess we must be doing ok even if we look out at a distance and can’t quite tell which direction it is.​​​​​​​​
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