A Thanksgiving I Didn’t Expect—and the Faith That Shaped It
Thanksgiving can stir up a lot of feelings. For some, it's a time of rooted tradition—recipes passed down, full houses, joyful chaos. For others, especially those far from home, it can feel quiet, a little disorienting, and even lonely.
As a college student living far from family, I’ve spent the last few Thanksgivings away from what once felt familiar. But both years, I was met with unexpected generosity. And this past Thanksgiving, I brought my camera.
Not for a shoot. Not for a client. Just to document what it looked like to be fully welcomed, fully included, and quietly changed by the love of others.
A Table I Didn’t Deserve—But Was Still Invited To
The Vaselkivs are the kind of people who live their faith in real, everyday ways. They host our college Bible study out of their home—week after week, with snacks and soft lighting and no expectation of anything in return. So when Thanksgiving approached and I had nowhere to go, they didn’t hesitate: “Come to Bethany with us. You’re family now.”
It wasn’t just a dinner invitation—it was an invitation into their life. Into morning coffee rituals, grocery runs, beach walks, and laughter-filled conversations around the kitchen island. Their oldest son and his wife had just had a baby, and I watched as the Vaselkivs stepped into the new, sacred role of grandparents. It was a weekend full of transitions, grace, and small joys. And I was given the gift of witnessing it all—camera in hand.
What Generosity Really Looks Like
We talk a lot about generosity in the church. Tithing, serving, volunteering. All of it matters. But I’ve come to believe that true Christian generosity isn’t just about scheduled acts of giving—it’s about a posture of openness. It’s about rearranging your plans to make room at your table. It’s about letting someone feel like they belong before they’ve even proven why they should.
The Vaselkivs modeled that kind of generosity. They didn’t host to impress. They hosted to include. And in doing so, they gave me a picture of Christ’s love in action—unearned, uncalculated, and deeply personal.
That’s what I want my photography to reflect, too.
Why I Love Documentary-Style Photography
Documentary-style photography is about letting moments unfold. It’s less about directing and more about bearing witness. You’re not chasing perfection—you’re chasing presence. It’s the kind of photography that’s quiet, honest, and rooted in observation.
And for me, it’s deeply connected to my faith.
I believe God shows up in the small things. The flour-dusted counter. A newborn sleeping in a relative’s arms. The glance between siblings. A grandparent praying before the meal. These aren’t just fleeting moments—they’re sacred evidence of a life lived together. And they deserve to be remembered.
In a world of curated highlight reels, documentary photography dares to say, “This is enough. This is worthy.”
A Practice of Seeing
Bringing my camera to Bethany wasn’t about making content. It was about practicing attentiveness—something I believe is at the heart of both faith and art. Photography trains me to slow down and notice what God is doing in the ordinary: the light slanting across a table, the way a parent cups a child’s cheek, the warmth of bodies gathered in close.
In the same way that Scripture invites us to “remember” what God has done, photography gives us a visual liturgy—a tangible way to reflect on God’s goodness in the quiet, daily moments we might otherwise forget.
More Than Photos
Looking back through the gallery from that weekend, I see more than family traditions. I see a spiritual legacy. A household that opens its doors because Jesus first opened His arms. A family that doesn’t ask, “What can we get?” but rather, “Who can we include?”
That’s the kind of home I want to build someday. That’s the kind of story I want to tell through my lens.
A Final Word on Generosity
One of my favorite moments from my church in Baltimore happened during the offering. Each week, before anyone gives a cent, we recite a giving liturgy from Church of the City New York. It’s not just tradition—it’s a reminder. A re-centering. A way of anchoring ourselves in the truth that generosity starts with God and flows through us.
This liturgy has shaped how I view money, yes—but also time, space, attention, and the posture of my heart. It’s what I thought about as I stood in the Vaselkivs’ kitchen, as I watched them give and give and give—not for credit, but because that’s who they are.
So I’ll leave you with it, just as it’s offered at the end of our services—open-handed and open-hearted:
Giving Liturgy – Church of the City New York
“Holy Father,
There is nothing I have that You have not given me.
All I have and am belong to You, bought with the blood of Jesus.
To spend everything on myself and to give without sacrifice
is the way of the world that You cannot abide.
But generosity is the way of those who call Christ their Lord,
who love Him with free hearts and serve Him with renewed minds,
who withstand the delusion of riches that chokes the Word,
whose hearts are in Your kingdom and not in the systems of the world.
I am determined to increase in generosity
until it can be said that there is no needy person among us.
I am determined to be trustworthy with such a little thing as money
that You may trust me with true riches.
Above all, I am determined to be generous
because You, Father, are generous.
It is the delight of Your daughters and sons to share Your traits
and to show what You are like to all the world.”
