Reflection/Why I’m Grateful:

One of my old classmates sent me a photo through Facebook recently. I hadn’t talked to him in more than 30 years. I looked at the picture and immediately noticed the suit—and how young I looked. So I messaged him back and asked where it was from.

He said it was from our eighth-grade graduation.

Just like that, I had a photo of myself around 16 years old—captured at a moment that was a significant happy accomplishment. I downloaded it immediately and saved it. It felt good. In a brief exchange, I thanked him and asked how he was doing. He said he was fine and added, “Keep up the good work. Outside of us joking around as kids, you always locked in and got focused when you wanted to.”

That’s something I hear often from people who remember me back then.

I encouraged him in return, reminding him that he, too, can do whatever he wants to do in life—and not to let anyone steal that from him. During the exchange, I reflected on how I was often the butt of jokes back then because I don’t have my right pinky finger. Folks used to call me “nine and a half.” He said, “Yeah, I remember—but I also remember that serious side of you. It showed.”

As I sat with the image, what struck me wasn’t just the photo—it was the timing. I don’t know if he knew how much I yearn for those memories, especially the happier ones—the ones that remind me that not every day was heavy, even though many of my circumstances were. The ones that whisper back that there was still joy tucked inside hard seasons. God has a way of sending angels—people who don’t even know they’re angels—to meet you right where you are.

That moment also reminded me why I take so many photos today. I probably have close to 25,000 photos on my phone, and I’d say 99% of them are of other people—their journeys, their work, their moments. Only about 1% are of me.

I take photos because you just never know. There comes a stage in life when those images matter.

I take photos of people when they frown. When they raise their hands and say they don’t want their picture taken. It’s common knowledge in my leadership lanes: yes, we’re going to talk strategy, vision, and execution—but I’m also going to be taking photos.
I’m the resident photographer.

I want to capture people in their natural moments—thinking, building, leading, wrestling with ideas. And one day, I’ll share those photos back with them so they can see themselves in action and reflect on the life they lived and the legacy they’re leaving.

Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past.”
— Deuteronomy 32:7