Sunday, November 6, 2011

On Taking Risks

Hello Baby Girl,

God is moving in a big way in my creative life these days. Leaps of faith have been much on my mind, so I think it's time we talk about taking risks.

In your life, dear one, you will take countless risks.  Big ones you agonize over before you make them and afterward.  Zillions of tiny ones you don't consider important at the time, but the sum total of which define your experience each day.  In that respect, risks are like a pair of shoes or a good handbag--there's one for every occasion.  Like the does this shirt work with these pants? sort of risk.  Not much of a downside if it doesn't work out.  Unless there's a big date or important work event involved.  There's also the I cooked it myself without a recipe kind of risk.  This may turn out very badly.  Or crazy good.  If you turn out to be a romantic, the biggest risk of your young life might be who will I fall in love with? or does he like me the way I like him?  We'll talk about falling in love later.  Much to say about that.  But today, we're talking risk. 

As you get older, you'll find the big risks get riskier.  The costs, consequences and the potential benefits all become greater.  You'll have more to invest when you risk--more time, more resources, more hard work to give.  But you often have more to lose--more sacrifices to make, possibly negative financial consequences or maybe a relationship or your reputation could suffer.  Taking risks is not for sissies.

But, sweetheart, that doesn't mean we shy away from them.  Quite the contrary.  The risks we take will define how we choose to live.  So it's very important to know why you are here and what is worth risking everything for.  I'm talking about faith here--which we will get to in another letter.  Suffice it to say for now, that what you believe in determines what you value and what you value determines what you are willing to risk.

Let me give you an example.  Last month, I took the biggest risk of my budding photography career by photographing the wedding of some family friends.  The back-story on this: God blessed me with a talent and desire to take pretty pictures.  He also gave me the drive to get my work out there--to bless others with the gifts he's given me.  But, up to this point I'd shied away from anything as big as a wedding because it seemed overwhelming.  The pressure of getting someone's special day just right was (and still is) very scary.  Plus I didn't know enough.  And I didn't have the necessary equipment or help to do the job right.  The whole thing was too big, too scary and I was sure I couldn't possibly do it.  Now or ever.

(A word of warning here: those things we're absolutely sure we can't do often turn out to be the very things God has in mind.)

But then word came that two dear friends were planning to ask me to photograph their wedding.  I'd taken photos of them before at horse shows and we all were pleased with the results.  Nevertheless, I was immediately caught in a cold panic.  Oh no, I couldn't possibly!  I can't do this!  I'll have to tell them no.  What am I going to say?

But when my friend called the next day and said how much she liked the photos I'd taken and that they really wanted me to shoot their wedding, I didn't tell her no.  Instead, warm words of acceptance and joy came out of my mouth.  I said I would be honored to take her wedding photos and all the sudden, I knew it was the right thing to do.  True, I didn't know a darn thing about shooting weddings, what was involved or how to go about it.  But, in my heart, this was what God wanted me to do.  This was part of why He'd given me these gifts and I had four months to figure out what I needed to know to pull this off.

So, I researched and read up on techniques, what to expect, how to do it, how to organize it, what equipment to buy and what kind of contract to use.  God sent me a teammate to help in the form of my brother who spent several weekends assisting me with practice portrait shoots and scouting the venue.  We planned and discussed every contingency (look up this word) we could think of.  And I prayed.  I asked a lot of other people to pray too.

Finally, the big wedding weekend arrived and I was ready.  I had extra batteries, extra memory cards, a back-up shooter (my brother again) and a game plan that could be adapted to whatever situation we found ourselves in.  Apart from a minor equipment issue (my external flash broke right before the ceremony), the whole day went beautifully!  We had perfect weather, everything ran smoothly, everybody had a great time and looked happy--it was lovely!  My brother couldn't have been a bigger help--positioning portrait subjects and getting shots I had missed.  We had done it!  And after much review and editing, I had beautiful pictures for the bride and groom.

I took a big risk and God guided me through all of it.  This time it was huge success.  But, other times it won't be.  Sometimes we'll even use the f-word: failure.  The thing is, dear one, God is with us even in those times.  Even in the times when everything feels so dark and heavy and inescapable that we can't move.  He is always there.  And failure is not something to fear because you will learn far more from the things you do wrong than the things you do right.  God uses those experiences to prepare us for the next season in our lives.  So keep that in mind, every event in your life will teach you something you can use later.  Every risk you take will yield something positive...eventually. The next time I shoot a wedding (yes, there will be a next time), it probably won't be perfect.  There may be equipment problems, people problems or problems you can't anticipate.  I will learn from those things and plan accordingly for the next wedding.

The goal, sweet girl, is not to come through life with the least amount of dings and dents, but to have taken every opportunity to love God, love one another and shine the light of that love into the world for others to see.  Take every risk with that purpose in mind and you will be amazed by what happens.

Much Love,
Aunt Green