Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of giving a short speech about Little Ms. In front of people. People who intimidated me. At a church. Not my church. Whoo boy, that was scary.
After fretting about it for months (yes, months) I came up with a plan. A devious plan. If I stood in front of that group holding up photos of Little Ms. all of those people would be looking at the images and hopefully wouldn't notice the papers rattling in my shaking hands. It was hard to choose eight of my favorite images of her to share but I finally settled on some that best described her personality. The little tribute went off without a hitch and no one seemed to notice, or at least didn't comment on the sweaty forehead.
In cruising through my scrapbooks that week I realized that my all time favorite photos are those that tell a story. The child sitting on the edge of a cliff wearing a harness. Athena and Eris lovingly planting kisses on top of Zeus' balding head. The shadow of a bride and groom walking down the sidewalk. The sweaty faces of bike riders who just completed a feat they never thought possible. The runner caught mid-stride in the air. A father's face as he bathes his newborn baby for the first time.
The stories of my life. Printed. Shared with others. It's what I do.