It’s the Little Things That Matter #1

I feel like crying as I write this. Truthfully, I’m tearing up—over a photo. Or more accurately, what that photo meant to someone.

In 2019, I snapped a photo of two women standing with my son. It was both spur of the moment and posed. I printed two copies and mailed one to each woman. Last week, one of the women passed at the age of 102. That photo was found in her Bible, and her daughter said the photo was of the few things she took with her when she moved to receive fulltime care.

There was much to love about that photo. L was not only standing with her pastor, but also with the friend who drove her to church each week. Part of the church building, which she could no longer enter once she became frailer, was visible. It was also a momentous occasion. It was the day that my son, who had been on staff for almost two years, was officially installed as the church’s pastor.

I almost didn’t take the photo. I wondered if I should mail it. However, those little actions mattered more than I knew, until now.