The Day We Met She was 15. I was 17. This is the moment.

I was late for football practice, rushing out the side door of the school. Christi stood just outside, waiting for her mother. We had never seen each other before — not once.

As I turned to run up the hill, my shoulder caught hers. She fell into the dirt.

I stopped, helped her to her feet, and when our eyes met for the first time, I said, “I’m going to marry you.”

Then I ran off to practice.

That was it. No script. No plan. Just a divine appointment that changed everything.

Christi was the steady heartbeat of my life. She was my strength as I learned how to stand, my anchor as faith took root, and the quiet presence that kept me grounded in who I was meant to be. Her love shaped the man I became and the way I learned to see the world.

She walked beside me with patience and courage, showing me what faith looks like when it is lived daily — not spoken loudly, but carried faithfully. The way I approach photography is inseparable from her influence. She taught me to slow down, to notice what others pass by, and to value beauty that doesn’t demand attention.

The strength I carry, the faith I walk in, and the beauty I seek through the lens are all shaped by the life we shared and the love she gave so freely.

There will be more added to this page as time goes on.

March 18, 1970, became the happiest day of my life. I had just returned from my first tour in Vietnam, and we were waiting for choir practice to finish so we could finally see each other. While I was home, we learned I wouldn’t be able to return in June as planned — the month Christi had always dreamed of being a bride.

With only three days’ notice, her mother and her best friend pulled together a wedding. That evening, Christi and I stood together and made our vows. From that night forward, nothing in our lives was ever the same.