I’m always looking for a good cause… Something unique to support that makes a difference for issues relating to poverty and justice. Not long ago, I looked into a company called TOMS shoes. What a great idea! TOMS shoes, of course… sells shoe. However, when you buy a pair, they donate one pair for a child in a third world country. That’s right, BOGO! You buy shoes and someone else who really needs shoes, gets a pair too… Every time you look at your feet you can know there’s another pair out there somewhere on a child who otherwise might not be able to afford shoes. It’s cool.

So, are you looking for a new pair of shoe’s? Try TOMS shoes. A great way to give and receive all at once. For every pair of shoes you buy, TOM’s shoes will donate one pair to a child in a third world country. They are on the edge of having donated ONE MILLION pairs of shoes and think that goal could be reached by September. How great that would be.

Click on the image below and you’ll jump over to TOMS shoes. You could be a part of ONE MILLION people who stepped in to make a difference in the world. Hannah and I are enjoying our TOMS shoes and we know you will to. So take a moment to visit the site, read the story, pick a style and make your mark. I know it’s overwhelming sometimes to think about the number of children who don’t have shoes… Don’t get so caught up in the tragedy, get caught in the hope. ONE FOR ONE. Sounds like a good deal to me.

Have a great day shopping… and making a difference.

peace.
johno~

I’m trying to use my powers for hope and not hurt. Photography has been a wonderful tool for me to help bring awareness to many about the world we live in. I’ve been very blessed to travel to several third world cultures, independently and with World Vision using photography to tell a different story… a story of hope. Everyone is created equal in the eyes of God… I’m amazed at how so many never see that.

Later this week I will be meeting with a friend who will help me define some ideas for a website on how to help people “see” better the opportunities to serve people around them. However, until I get my peas in a row, there’s a group of photographers with a similar core value that I have who want to use photography to help redefine the world we live in through the images we receive.

I would encourage you, if you are a person who takes photos and has a soul for poverty and justice issues, that you check out the International Guild of Visual Peacemakers
Visual Peacemakers

Stop by and look around. It’s brand new, but has good potential to bring humanitarian photography into new light.

peace.
johno~

CONTEST UPDATE!
I realized I didn’t give a deadline for my contest, so I’m shooting for this Friday, August 27th at 12:00 PM, Pacific Time. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, that’s OK… I forgive you. Check out my post here for the story and the contest.

I’ve always felt like a leader, but… the weight of just following or doing nothing drags me down to the pace of a snail… I would really rather watch TV and I hate that. So what makes a good leader? How do you fight against the drag that keeps you down and out?

Charlie “Tremendous” Jones says, “You are the same today that you are going to be in five years from now except for two things: the people with whom you associate with and the books you read.” He also says, “Readers are leaders.”

So I began to wonder… how have I changed in the past five years? What books have I read and what kind of people have I met?

I can’t think of a bigger insult in life than attending my twenty-year class reunion and hear from my old classmates, “JOHNO! You haven’t changed a bit.” Would that depress you? Sure, I want the same heart and spirit, but I hope I’m a different person than the one I was in High School. I want to hear, “I knew you could do this.” or “I’m glad you followed your heart.” Perhaps that’s why I didn’t go to my twenty-year class reunion.

I admit I’m better at the “meeting people” thing than I am at the “reading” thing, but I try. I have several books stacked next to me, as I type this post, that are unread. “Safely Home,” by Randy Alcorn, “From Eternity to Here,” by Frank Viola, (Thanks Jerry) and Donald Miller’s book, “Through Painted Deserts.” I can image that each one of these books holds incredible wonders that could shape or change my life. I believe this, since I’ve read several books from all these authors before. Each one has challenged me to rethink, imagine and grow in my understanding of life and things around me.

Each of the books I’ve read, outside of “Schindler’s List,” (which was a better movie than it was a book), have helped carry me through the story of my life, I am reshaped by the words these writers form. I am crafted into a sculpture of art and beauty. Each book I read is like the chisel that crafted the statue of David or Venus… (although I wish I had the statue David’s body… That’s one obvious thing that has changed over the years). Through the books I’ve read and the people I’ve met, I am better at the end of each day. Can you imagine life without written words or people? Neither can I. My best guess is… that would be hell.

I believe this is one of the best cases for Christ that is overlooked. Christ came to redeem everyone and to establish a people to be in community with Him and one another. In Christ, those people are known as the “church.” Our very nature our design was to be in community with one another and not alone. Even a hermit carries “great works” of literature or someone else’s, “8 important things you need to know,” survival guide. He doesn’t come to that knowledge alone. We were not meant to be alone.

So, what will you read today? Who will you meet? The outcome of these questions will decide on who you and I will be tomorrow. Who will lead and who will get out of the way.

Peace.
Johno~

1/3 of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives.
42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.
80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.
70 percent of U.S. adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years.

(Source: Jerold Jenkins. www.jenkinsgroupinc.com)

I most likely will never be known as one of the top “photo blogs” for student or aspiring photographers and that’s OK. In a world where it seems as if everyone owns a camera of some kind, it also seems as if everyone is now a photographer, and I’m OK with that too. So, in the world of “Big Brother” with cameras everywhere, what makes your image different from anyone else?

I can’t tell you how many Sunset images I’ve seen in my life time, but there once was a time when a good sunset photo made me “oohhhh” and “awwwwww.” But now, from expensive DSLR’s to small compact point-n-shoots, everyone shoots sunsets and it’s hard for me to fall in love with something that everyone has. Like it’s lost value. I sometimes feel like an adult who walks over a penny, because, it’s a penny and not worth the effort of bending down to pocket the small value. However, when a child sees a shiny or even a dull copper coin they act as if they’ve hit the jackpot… The gods have smiled on them and they know it’s going to be an incredible day. With a small amount of effort and a ton of enthusiasm, they bend down and pick it up the coin. At the end of the day, their efforts truly have paid off and my pockets are still empty because I didn’t take the time to act of something of value. There is value, we just have to “pick it up.”

Taking better photos can simply be, taking a moment of time to “pick up the pennies.” I recently watched a video by a guy who shot an entire model shoot with an iPhone, which proves you don’t have to have great equipment to do good work. Any device that captures an image will do. You just have to make an effort and think a bit different. The guy with the iPhone used hot lights to light his model and a touch up artist for the final product… I’m not saying you have to do all of that, but make some effort to see what you want to photograph from a perspective that’s different from the next guy.

Here are a couple things you might try.

Shoot from a low angle.

Bend down and pick up the penny. You’d be surprised by the difference an image makes when you “get down.” Most people walk around shooting pictures from their physical eye level and because of that, many people with cameras miss incredible photo opportunities. Break from the average five foot nine photo shot and get on your knees or better yet, put your ear to the ground and click away.

Go wide. Here’s an example of three images that I stitched together using photoshop.

There’s plenty of free software that can help you “stitch” a photo together. Wide angle lenses are fun, but can be expensive, unless you pick up a bunch of pennies. In order to get that wide angle shot, take three or four photos across your subject and then use your favorite photo program or the one that came with you printer to stitch them together. You’ll end up with something no one else has… because no one else took the time.

Sure it takes a small amount of effort, but that effort will make you stand above the rest and you’ll start feeling better about your photography. Just my two cents worth… you can take it or leave it.

peace.
johno~

I remember that Sunday morning well. It was the day I discovered I was selfish and that a mother could be disappointed in her son.

I wasn’t a bad kid… As a young boy, growing up in the suburbs of Los Angeles, very near East Compton, we attended a little conservative church in Paramount. It’s hard to think of anything as “little” or “conservative” in California, but these were the 70’s… it was a little different back then. The church we went to was a church’s, church. You know, like a man’s, man. Everything about it was classic 1950’s Andy Griffith church. Wooden pews, pulpit in the middle of the stage… a wooden hymn board that logged attendance, offering totals and the page numbers of the songs that would be sung during the morning service. It even had the Jordan River painted on the wall above the baptistery… (I recently traveled to the Jordan River and I must say, that painting above the baptistery looked nothing like the Jordan river in Israel). Lastly, sandwiched between pulpit and pews was a wooden table with the words, “Do this in remembrance of Me.”

Among the many things we did during service, each week our little church took part in the Lords Supper. The “Lord’s Supper,” in my opinion, was and is today, one of the hardest things for any child growing up in church. It’s the time where confirmed believers get to hear about and remember Jesus’ sacrifice. Believers break unleavened bread, which represents Christ’s broken body on the cross and drink grape juice from a cup, which represents Christ’s blood that was shed for us. I’ll not go into much more detail theologically here… There’s far more theology and doctrine in the small definition above than I’m willing to give. However, I would like to share with you the view of a young boy who sat week after week in wooden pews on Sunday morning during communion.

It seemed as if breakfast came WAY to early on Sunday mornings… There was hardly any time to enjoy a bowl of cereal and watch cartoons. Which was fine, because Sunday morning didn’t have the cartoons like Saturday morning did… but that’s another story. Anyhow, after our quick breakfast, my mother would gather my two sisters and I to the car and we would begin our journey to church. On occasion, only if we had time, we would stop by the corner market on our way to church and grab a treat. I’m still not sure why we stopped, but on occasion, we did. I remember walking into the corner market that housed nine foot tall shelves of candy, chocolates and treats. I knew they were nine feet tall because they towered above my head like the felt images of David standing against the giant Goliath that I had seen in Sunday school. My mom would reach to the top of these nine foot shelves and grab a roll of mints or a pack of gum, usually juicy fruit, buy it, and then race back to the car and head towards church.

I admit, I like Juicy Fruit gum, but my favorite was “Fruit Stripe” gum. You know, the one with the Zebra. “Fruit stripe chewing gum for kids in five juicy flavors: cherry, lemon, lime, mixed fruit and orange?” Yup, that’s the one. It was always a treat to get Fruit Stripe gum. But this Sunday, the day I discovered I was selfish, there was not stopping at the corner store. It was just a drive to church.

We went to Sunday school, made our formal greetings between class and church service and then the songs began, which meant no talking, it was time to take your seat. I knew the routine… Two songs, prayer, song… communion, sermon, song, a long prayer and then we get to go home and play. I made it past the two songs, prayer, song part of the service and like clockwork, my stomach knew that there was about to be food passing by known by all as communion. Ugh! An unfed stomach can make a lot of noise in a young boy. Especially when he opens his mouth. Oh the cruelty of passing around crackers and grape juice in small cups for adults and not for kids. I would have believed anything you told me to get my hands on one of those delicious morsels of unleavened goodness. And the mini cups of grape juice… I mean, how cool were those little cups? We didn’t have anything like that at home.

As my childhood nerves were about to be shot, at the anticipation of communion, my mother suddenly distracted me with more pennies than my two small hands could hold. She told me to hold these pennies for the offering that would soon be collected AFTER communion. She told me that if I behaved I could keep some pennies for myself and we could go to the store after church.

I wish you could have seen it. I sat there more quite than a tree that falls in the forest when nobody is around… like the sound of one hand clapping… I didn’t move or say a word. My hands clenched those copper gems of Abe Lincoln as they seemed to burst between my short fat fingers. I knew I had about a million dollars… just enough to buy some Fruit Stripe gum. The cracker and juice cup passed without me breaking my gaze on my new fortune… and then it happened.

The check was due and the plate, which was passed around for the offering, was headed down my row. My mother held before me the collection plate, which was shiny like gold with red felt on the bottom center. She gave me the “look” which was the green light to place some pennies into the collection plate. I’m not sure if it happened quickly or not, but it seemed like a loooong time to me. This beautiful round metal plate hovered in front of me like a UFO waiting to lock its tractor beam on my pennies. I placed one of my clinched fist over the red target and dropped them… “CLANK… CLANK! The two pennies I had managed to drop, one at a time, hit the side metal rim and bounced into the middle where other coins, pieces of paper and even some DOLLAR bills where.

My mother gave me the “look.”

I placed my other hand over this round treasure chest and dropped a couple more, hitting the felt and making much less noise than before.

I didn’t think it was possible, but my mother gave me the “look” again and it was worse than the first.

It suddenly clicked in my small head that she intended for me to give most of what was in my hands to this plate and keeping only a few pennies for myself. I looked up at her as she held the shiny gold plate, I sat back in my seat and put my hands in my lap… holding all the pennies close, minus the four I had dropped into the offering plate. Who could be mad at me? I didn’t even get the cracker and juice cup… why did I have to pay for it? I had bigger plans… something better than crackers and tiny cups of grape juice. (although, I really like grape juice) I would soon have my own pack of Fruit Stripe gum.

Then my mother passed the plate on.

I knew what I had done was wrong. My mother’s look was different. Moments before she had given me something with expectation. I think she was looking forward to seeing me dump a handful of pennies into the offering plate. When I didn’t… well, her disappointment showed and I knew it in my heart. I clutched my pennies… I thought, “I’ll share some of my gum with my friends.” My head sank low into my chest. My two fists full of coins seemed more heavy than before. My hands were sweating and the tight grip I had began to ache my fingers. I wasn’t sure how I could hold on to them much longer. Then something else happened. My mother opened her purse and pulled out a brand new package of Fruit Stripe gum. My hands were so full, I couldn’t have grabbed for the package of gum even if I wanted to. Something was happening and I could feel it in my bones. I was selfish.

Now, I know there shouldn’t be any talking when the preacher is preaching, but my mother started talking to me in church. I’m not sure if there was anyone else in that little white church building at that moment, but my mom said to me, “God has given you everything… He wants you to be a giver back. When you hold things too tight, God cannot give you anything else because your hands are closed.” I’m not sure if she sang it or spoke it, but she told me that, “Love is like a lucky penny, hold it tight and you won’t have any. Give it away and you’ll have plenty. You’ll end up having more.”

I wish I could have dropped every single penny to the ground. It might not sound like much of a story, but it was a colossal shaping for a young boy like me. It changed my story.

I’ll never forget that moment in church. By the grace of my mom, I was given a chance to give more of my plunder to the offering after church. I was also given an orange piece of Fruit Stripe gum. I think I ended up with the whole pack, because no one else in my family likes it. Because of that day, I want to always remember to give. Every time I give with an open hand, God gives me more than ever before.

Let’s be givers. Not because we get back… Let’s give because we were made to be givers.

Peace.
Johno~

CONTEST ALERT!
So here’s the deal… are you living with closed fists or open hands? It’s time for you and I to share what gifts God has given us.

The contest I’m offering is this: you tell me what gifts God has given you and how you can share them and I’ll add your name in the drawing bucket. If you win, you’ll get two prizes. One for you and another you can use for a giveaway on your blog or just give it to a friend.

THE PRIZE – TWO (2) original unframed, signed photographs from my recent trip to Uganda.

Here’s what to do:
Leave a comment in this post with your “name” and “your gift/talent” that you would share and I’ll add your name to the bucket. Comment as much as you like, but only one comment will be selected with your name. If you would like a double shot at winning, then send one of your friends over here to leave a comment. If they win they just might share with you the second prize. If you would really like one more “extra” shot at getting your name in the hat, join me on twitter. lightexposure. If you’ve already hooked up with me on twitter, then retweet this post and I’ll throw your name in one more time.

I hope this is clear, but if it’s not, shoot me an email.

Just the other day I received an email from a single mother who thanked me for sharing about my life as a child who grew up with no father. Yes, I am illegitimate. A child of the 70’s which seems to be better than a child from the 60’s… or not. I was born and grew up in a time when women’s rights were coming to their peak. Women burned their bra’s in the streets and held up high, black and white signs for N.O.W. and equal rights… No wonder it could be easily overlooked that an unwed woman could give birth to a child and it not turn a conservative head. The time of “Leave it to Beaver” was gone and family dynamics were changing fast. There would now be sons and daughters who would grow up with no father in the home.

My heart goes out to all the single parents I know. It is and never will be easy for a single parent fulfill rolls that God intended for both male and female. My mother had to be “all things” to my sisters and me growing up. Not only did she have to provide for us financially, she disciplined, cooked, nurtured, kissed our scrapes and bruises… She fulfilled more than was ever asked of her and she did the best she could.

I learned a lot from my mother and I learned nothing from my father. Well, other than, “how not to be a father,” since he was never in the picture… but, there were other men who were. I’m not talking about the small handful of men my mother dated early on in my life. Yes, my mother dated and brought home a few candidates for us kids to meet and approve. None of them survived the premeditated assaults by my sisters and myself. These candidates never made it past the “black smoke” and our plans of destruction were as plotted and planned as D Day itself. It was bloody, literally sometimes and in the end, every name was crossed off as not good enough.

No, the men I’m talking about are the men that I saw when my mother took me to church. Most of them were married and had families but they took the time to notice a little boy who had no father. I cannot list the countless men who exampled right “manly” or rather, Godly behavior to me. What I saw and heard in them was a life that was meant to be so much more. They took their time and pointed me in a direction and gave me a push. I imagine that some didn’t even know I was watching… but I was… I was watching and it shaped my life of what I wanted to do and what I didn’t want to do. It lead me into a relationship with Jesus. Now, that’s life.

What about you? Have you been shaped by people around you? Have you watched or been thankful for someone who shared their story, pointed you in a direction and gave you a push? If there was ever a time for good examples and encouragement now is the time. Think about it for a moment… Do you know you are being watched? How are you living your life? What’s important to you right now?

How you answer could change the world. It might of already happened. You might not know it was something you said or did, but it could make a difference in the life of one person and that’s powerful.

The picture above was taken in a small village near the boarder Congo. In a culture where women take charge of children care, nurturing and such, I saw this man holding a sleeping child. I’m not sure if this man was ever held by his father, I never was, but what I saw shaped my life. I want to be a father who has the time to hold a sleeping child. To me there was so much peace in the father pictured above. I want to be that kind of father and I know his children and the children of that church will too. I don’t know if he even knew I was watching, but he made a difference in the life of a 38 year old fatherless child.

Peace.
Johno~

Not long ago I wrote about getting the right ingredients in your photography to help make a successful image. But, that’s not true for every shot. There are some things you cannot plan. Instead, they just happen. When you do take that shot, you might not even know what you have until you take the time to look closer. Photos can change your life and maybe… no one else’s.

I remember a story told to me a while back about a man who was visiting a museum. He sat on a red cushioned bench in front of a masterpiece that covered the ivory painted walls. There was very little clutter to distract him from the brushstrokes of the creation that captured him for hours. One painting… hours of awe and enjoyment… as he gazed at the creator’s detail in every brush stroke of color.

After hours of enjoyment, another man, in a gray flannel shirt, worked his way though the museum and found himself next to the man on the red cushioned bench. The man in gray, who just arrived, stared a few seconds at the painting. His body screaming impatience, his converse tapping and shifting, said to the man on the red cushioned bench, “Well, I don’t see anything… Do you?” The man on the bench who had been living every brushstroke for the last few hours said to the impatient fellow, “Don’t you wish you could see something?”

Some my photographs are like that… I see something wonderful and no one else does and I want you to know… that it’s OK. It’s art… story… it’s personal. One of my favorite photographs of ALL TIME is the one above. I will tell you right now, it is a bigger story to me than the image you see and that’s OK. I didn’t know what I was doing at the time I shot this picture, other than I was taking a picture of a child on a dirt path. Since then, I’ve found some wonderful connection to this photo that really encourages me to help make a difference in the lives of children all over the world.

Many details pour from this image and challenge me to think different about the world I live in and I discovered them weeks after I took the picture. Details you may or may not see.

It’s the Chicago Bulls shirt and pink flowered shorts. I don’t know if this is a boy or a girl and it doesn’t matter… It’s the determination and resilience of this child to move forward on this dirt path… despite a very traumatic injury to their right knee. It’s the large smile and the look that is locked on to its target. It’s bare feet. It’s a dirt path that leads to a blurred figure of another child in the distance. There’s always another one, but the one I see is the one I can help. Help this one then you can help the next one.

How many details can you find?

Two years ago I started partnering with World Vision to make a difference in the lives of children all over the world. World Vision has opened my eyes to things globally and locally. This photo is a reminder to me to make a difference “one child at a time,” everyday. Our family choses to do this through sponsorship of a child through World Vision.

I love sharing this photo… I used it as one of my limited prints to raise money for my mission back to Africa… It wasn’t a big hit at all. As a matter of fact, it failed miserably as a fundraiser. It’s a nice picture but the story and the details are what make this a masterpiece… to me.

I wish you could see it… Don’t you wish you could?

peace.
johno~

One of the risks of writing out your thoughts is this… you wrote them out for others to see. That’s right! It’s in print, black and white, posted in cyberspace and retweeted around the globe in moments to “friends” and “followers.” It might have sounded like a good idea at first to write it down and publish it, but then it hits you smack-dab-in-the-face. “What was I thinking?” or “Why did I write that?” Or, perhaps what you wrote speaks in such questionable tones, the reader cannot tell if you are serious or joking.

Not long ago, I was watching children play at a local water park in our community and my curious son was among them. The park was full of children and water fun features. There were canons that fired streams of water back and forth that made even the six-year-old, toothless buccaneers, scream, “arrrr,” as they sprayed one another in battle. Other children danced like fairies under columns of water that bloomed at the top like daisies then rained down like the April showers from their heads to their toes.

As I watched the children play, I noticed my son Caleb investigating several holes in the ground around the saturated playground edge. These “holes” were not as populated as the many other hydro features… They reminded me of the holes that fired poisonous darts, from the jungle walls of obscure tiki faces, at Indiana Jones. As I watched his curiosity, I noticed jets of water were shooting up from these holes, and like dominos and they were rapidly approaching an unaware Caleb. As he peered into this hole in the ground a jet of water shot up and exploded into his face with such fury, it made the destruction of the Death Star look like a 1950’s B-movie… and I got a picture of it.

He will never live this down… I’ve got it and I’ve posted it on my blog. I know… shame on me for being so cruel as to not shout, “LOOK OUT SON!” Instead I watched it like a train wreck or freestyle cat juggling… I just couldn’t turn my head or stop clicking away with my camera.

Like my son in the water park, “mysterious holes in the ground sometimes explode in our faces,” as our fingers strike the keyboard or pen hits the paper and we publish. If we’re going to a water park, chances are we’re going to get wet. If you write, chances are your going to write something that someone doesn’t get or doesn’t like. There are many other writers here, some play in different parts of the park, some are more safe than others and some just watch the train wreck. Sometimes we get it in the face, I know I have lately. Curiosity does that but we must not forget where we are.

After the dowsing of his nasal cavity, Caleb shook his head, laughed, screamed, “COOL!” and continued to play and explore with a little more insight to those “holes in the ground.” We all get it in the face sometimes. Shake your head off and scream, “COOL!” and move on to the next adventure or story. It’s OK to write something and change your mind. It’s OK to be misunderstood… it makes for better stories sometimes. Don’t miss going to the park because you’re afraid to get wet. Go prepared, shake it off, laugh and have a good time.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
– Jesus

peace.
johno~

Number 4 according to RANDOM.ORG.

I assigned a number, starting at one from the very first comment being number 1, to the final comment being number 31. I entered the minimum number and the maximum number at random.org and clicked “generate” which gave me the number 4.

The fourth comment made was in the first post by Patty.

Congratulations Patty! You’re the winner of the Uganda basket in this weeks give away.

I can even had deliver it, since I will be in Portland tomorrow.

If you didn’t win this time, don’t worry… I’ve got more to come.

Thanks everyone for your comments and encouragement.
johno~

It’s been one week of posting here on my new blog. I have to tell you that it’s been a huge blessing to hear your thoughts in person and through the wonderful world wide web. Your comments have challenged me to think differently and fresh… but I have to admit something… I’m lazy.

Proverbs 20:4 CEV
If you are too lazy to plow, don’t expect a harvest.
Proverbs 26:14
A door turns on its hinges, 
but a lazy person 
just turns over in bed.

I believed I was lazy, as I hit the snooze button for the 3rd time, but I’ve been in denial. I thought I had overcome it but, I’m not sure I have. I was talking to a friend a while ago, who also works in youth ministry, and he was telling me about all the things others were doing in their ministries and how he couldn’t figure out how they accomplished so much. I told him, “It’s because you’re lazy and they’re not.” I think it was a slap in the face to him, since he gave me that look of, shock and the “did-you-just-slap-me-in-the-face-by-calling-me-lazy?” look. I could identify it because, it sounded like me and I’m lazy. It’s not something we like to talk about much, let alone say it to someone else.

I realize that many people want to be successful, have purpose, adventure and story… I do. Yet, many people don’t want to do what it takes to get there… Myself included… Sometimes.

I’m trying to change. I realize there is much to say and many good conversation to be had, but who has the time? I mean, we’re so busy doing… doing… doing… um, well… playing Farmville? Have we confused mindless things of laziness for being busy? Have we figured out how to make ourselves look busy when really we’ve just faked ourselves into thinking we’ve had an overwhelming day?

When it comes right down to it, I’ve found out that I would rather read someone else’s blog than write one or watch an adventure movie instead of living one. That must change. God has given me wonderful gifts and I’m surprised He’s not taken them away from me yet for not being the good steward of them as He intended. So, I’m asking for your help to hold me accountable and scold me when I stop doing ministry, blogging or photography. Believe it or not there are many devotions, thoughts and photos I’ve yet to share from my trip to Uganda this year… It’s been months and I need to get on it.

I don’t expect to blog everyday like my challenge for last week… but I also don’t expect not too.

I’ve found that we are all on this journey together. With your hand on my shoulder, I know I am not alone. Let’s try a little harder, give a little more effort to share together our images and thoughts and we might just might find inspiration to change the world.

Peace.
Johno~

If I counted it right, there are currently 27ish names in the bucket from people who left comments this last week. It’s your last chance to make a comment to be entered in the gig for a basket from Uganda. Since this post is going out late in the day, I will announce the winner on Monday. Special thanks to Brenda whose comment, “we reap what we sow” helped inspire this post.