Through Shadows and Light

Waking up this morning feels different. Yesterday didn’t just pass by like any other day it carried a heaviness that settled in my chest. The news of Charlie Kirk’s assassination hit like a shockwave, shaking so many of us to our core. My feed was flooded with heartbreak, anger, disbelief, and questions that I still don’t know how to answer. It was the kind of news that forces you to stop, that strips away the noise of everyday life and makes you look reality straight in the eye. Tragedy has a way of doing that — it pulls back the curtain and reminds us just how fragile, how fleeting, and how precious this life really is.

I’m 22 years old, and because of that, I wasn’t alive for 9/11. I didn’t hear the sirens screaming through the streets of New York, I didn’t feel the ground shake as towers fell, I didn’t live through the fear of not knowing what was coming next. But even though I wasn’t there, I’ve grown up in its shadow. The aftermath of that day shaped the world I was born into. Every September, the stories return. Every year, the same haunting images reappear: firefighters covered in ash, strangers helping each other escape, families holding onto each other with everything they had. The tolling of bells, the reading of names — traditions that remind us that grief is still alive and memory still matters. Even without living that day myself, I’ve inherited its weight. Because 9/11 was not just a moment in history — it was a wound that left its mark on every generation that followed.

That’s why yesterday’s loss echoes with it. Different events, but tied by the same thread: both remind us of how suddenly life can shift. One moment everything feels ordinary, and the next, everything has changed forever. Both remind us of how real and relentless evil can be. But they also reveal something else — something more powerful. They remind us that even when evil strikes, faith, courage, and love can rise higher still. That is what my photo represents. It’s me, standing still before a historic building, eyes lifted toward the line of flags waving proudly in the wind. The world around me is muted, quiet, heavy — drained of color. And yet, the flags shine through. Bold, alive, unmoved. To me, that is what it means to live with faith. Even when shadows seem to swallow everything, there is something greater that stands firm. Something that cannot be silenced or erased. Yet even in darkness, there is light. Because America, at its best, was built on something greater than politics or power: it was built on faith, on community, on courage. And through Him — through God — we can rise from despair. We can choose love over fear. We can remember that evil does not get the final word.

America was built on that kind of faith, and generation after generation, it has been faith that carried us forward. Through God, people have found strength to rise from the ashes, to rebuild, to press on when the weight felt too heavy. Faith doesn’t erase grief. It doesn’t mean there won’t be tears. It doesn’t make tragedy less real. But it does mean that grief doesn’t end in despair. It means that darkness does not win. The light still shines. The hope still lives.

Photography has always reminded me of that truth. Shadows only exist because light is nearby. Pain and beauty so often share the same frame, side by side. That is the story of life itself — grief and joy, loss and hope, heartbreak and love. And faith gives us the courage to believe that even if the picture feels dark right now, the light is already on its way.

So today, I stand in the light. I remember the lives lost on 9/11, I mourn the violence and loss of yesterday, and I pray for healing in a world that feels so broken. But I also choose hope. I choose to believe that evil does not get the final word. I choose to believe that love still wins, because God is greater than every shadow we face.

And if I can leave you with anything, it’s this: hold your loved ones closer. Tell them you love them. Cherish the moments that seem small, because they may be the ones you’ll miss the most when they’re gone. Don’t let a single day slip by without gratitude. None of us are promised tomorrow. So in every shadow, search for the light. In every loss, choose to live with deeper compassion. And in every day, find something no matter how simple to thank God for.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” – John 1:5