the deep ache of Want

She was gone. And he was walking alone. Her camera in his hand, taking pictures of what life was meant to look like

if she were near his side.

Two weeks gone now, and he was wandering the canyons of Utah. Alone.



You wouldn’t know on the outside.

He smiled and chatted briefly about the coldness of his feet. “Maybe someday, I’ll come back and wear what I need to make it up the Narrows

… maybe someday.”


Obvious, was the Nikon camera he guarded as he forged through the icy water. We asked him if he wanted a picture of himself in this adventure, framed in all of Zion’s beauty. You’d have thought we had handed him a rare and costly treasure. As Chris started the photographer talk of of cameras and lenses, millimeters and apertures, his face washed red with a clouded uncertainty… He didn’t know what lens he had. He didn’t know his camera’s ins and outs. He didn’t even know the name of the weight that draped heavy around his neck. With a hesitant voice, he offered, “I’m sorry. I don’t really know a lot. The camera is, was my wi… um…I inherited it.”

Carefully he looked into the lens with a faraway smile, and the shot was taken. And another for good measure. Then his words began to tumble into the river at our feet. He apologized that he was going to cry. He’d lost his wife two weeks ago. A two year battle of cancer. His boss had said, “Go. Take as much time as you need.” He went. With his wife’s camera, and a dream, and a new life that didn’t fit right.

Wouldn’t ever fit the same way again.

He said he’d be okay. He said times like this he’d fill up and then overflow, and he’d go sit on back over on the beach right there, and just cry and let it out. He said how thankful he was for the picture.

DSCN2253 (1)


We said how we would pray for him in this hard time,

in this new life

and how we were praying even now.

Then, he thanked us and hugged us and we left him alone

… with a picture,

a raw new memory,

and the deep ache of Want.



Looking back, as we headed up the river,


I saw him build an altar.



cairn (1)

Linking up with

A Field of Wild Flowers (Small Wonder)

Tell His Story

Coffee for you Heart,

Thought-Provoking Thursdays

Five Minute Fridays

Let Us Walk Worthy


13 thoughts on “the deep ache of Want

Add yours

  1. This account gave me chills.

    God ordered your steps to be in this grieving man’s path so that you could offer His comfort. It could be in God’s greater plan, He used the man’s wife’s death and his trip to the canyon to meet you for such a time as this to share the love of Christ which could bring the man to ultimate salvation in the Lord.

    Thank you so much for sharing this powerful post.

  2. What a beautiful post! Lovely pictures and what a blessing you must have been to the man who lost his wife. May God bless you! I’m visiting from #LetUsGrow.

  3. Wow. I’m visiting from #fmfparty. What a beautiful encounter with the raw ebb and flow of grief. “He said he’d be okay. He said times like this he’d fill up and then overflow.” This is so true of grief! Just this week, as I thought of someone I know who lost her dad a few weeks ago, it occurred to me how important it is to remember her. Remember that her new normal is starting as I return to the normal I know. Remember and reach out. Because I’ve been there. Thank you for your words. Beautiful!

  4. How beautiful Jane…aw yes.. familiar with grief… so glad you were there in all that beauty and all that pain all mixed in with love and prayer..blessings all around… Your photos too say so much as do you xoxo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: