The Pictures We Follow

Getting ready to fly to New York always makes me nervous. I have never enjoyed flying, and I doubt I ever will. But this trip feels different.

I recently finished my second book and have already started working on a third. Even writing those words feels strange. For most of my life, I never thought of myself as a writer. In fact, I spent many years doubting myself.

Melissa is always telling me to give myself more credit. That isn’t easy for me. I’ve spent a lifetime focusing on what I could have done better rather than what I’ve accomplished. But perhaps she’s right. Finishing two books and beginning a third is something I never imagined I would do.

Whether the third book ever sells is almost beside the point. Writing has become a way of releasing thoughts that have been building inside me for years. Once I begin putting them on paper, something feels lighter.

When I need a break from my own thoughts, I often listen to music while watching beautiful photographs drift across a screen. Mountains. Oceans. Forests. Sunrises. Ordinary moments captured at exactly the right time.

I find those images calming.

Maybe it’s because life itself feels like a collection of pictures.

Some are joyful. Some are painful. Some stay with us forever. Others fade with time. We don’t always get to choose the pictures life places in front of us. Difficult moments arrive whether we welcome them or not.

But we do have some choice in where we focus our attention.

Over the years, I’ve been fortunate enough to step into some beautiful pictures of my own. I’ve experienced moments of peace, gratitude, friendship, accomplishment, and love. I’ve stood in places where everything seemed clear, even if only for a little while.

Of course, life has a way of changing the scenery.

The picture shifts. Challenges appear. We lose our footing. Suddenly we’re trying to find our way again.

But those moments taught me something important. The beautiful pictures are real. They exist. I’ve seen them. I’ve lived inside them.

And because of that, I keep moving forward.

Not because life is easy. Not because every picture turns out the way I hoped. But because I’ve learned that new pictures are always waiting ahead.

What matters is that we keep walking toward them.