From the moment I first held a pink camera beneath the branches of a black walnut tree, I saw the world as a tapestry of fleeting wonders. I was twelve, recovering from illness, surrounded by purple wildflowers and drifting clouds. That first photo felt like a promise that I would share the beauty I witnessed, no matter where life led.

Dreams sometimes grow quiet. At twenty-six, a degenerative nerve disease changed everything. My hands shook, my vision blurred, and photography felt impossibly out of reach. Yet the yearning to create never faded. Unsure and afraid, I prayed about the desires in my heart.

Then, in 2019, faith reignited that childhood spark. I returned to photography, determined to relearn what I thought I’d lost. Every trembling attempt, every imperfect capture, told a story of grit, hope, and healing. Slowly, I found my rhythm and my purpose; camera in hand, heart open.