I never expected to begin a new life at 63.
For years I was known as a landscape photographer. My work had been exhibited, published and recognized, and I assumed that chapter of my creative life would simply continue. Then the COVID-19 pandemic arrived. Like so many others, I found myself wondering what came next. Instead of traveling to distant landscapes, I began paying attention to the birds outside my own home in Missouri. That simple decision changed my life.
Starting over wasn’t easy.
Bird photography is one of the most demanding forms of photography. Birds rarely wait for you. They dart through changing light, disappear in an instant, and require patience that can stretch for hours before a single opportunity appears. Most people begin developing those skills when they’re much younger. I was beginning from scratch.
One bird at a time
The challenge became even greater because I live with Tourette syndrome and other neurodivergent disorders. Conditions that affect movement, concentration and physical endurance make handling heavy camera equipment and reacting in fractions of a second far more difficult than most people realize. There were many days when the obstacles seemed bigger than the opportunities.
But I discovered something important: adversity doesn’t always signal the end of our purpose. Sometimes it points us toward a new one.
Every successful photograph became a reminder that limitations don’t have to define us. They can become the very place where perseverance grows. Little by little, one bird at a time, I learned that God was asking me not simply to take better photographs but to trust Him through the process of beginning again.
As my portfolio grew, so did my appreciation for God’s creation. I found myself noticing details I had once overlooked — the iridescent glow of a hummingbird’s throat, the determination of a goldfinch balancing on a flower, the quiet wisdom reflected in an owl’s eyes. Those moments reminded me that God’s fingerprints are everywhere if we’re willing to slow down long enough to notice them.
My photography became much more than a hobby or artistic pursuit. It became an act of worship.
When people visit my galleries, I hope they see more than beautiful birds. I hope they catch a glimpse of the Creator behind the creation. That’s why I often pair my photographs with Scripture, poems and personal reflections. The camera has become one of the ways I share my faith and encourage others to see God’s presence in ordinary moments.
Today, I have photographed thousands of birds representing well over 150 species, something I never imagined when I first picked up a telephoto lens during the pandemic. Looking back, I realize this wasn’t simply a change in photography. It was my second flight — a second calling that God had quietly prepared long before I recognized it.
What makes me smile
If there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s that God isn’t finished with us simply because we’ve grown older, face physical challenges, or believe we’ve missed our opportunity. He specializes in new beginnings. The obstacles in my life never disappeared, but they no longer determined my future. God did.
Whenever someone tells me they’re too old, too limited, or too discouraged to start over, I smile. I understand those feelings because I’ve lived them. But I’ve also learned that faith has a way of lifting our eyes beyond our circumstances.
Sometimes all it takes is the courage to take the first step, trust God with the next one, and discover that He still has new horizons waiting for us.
EDITOR’S NOTE — This story is written by Hal Moran, who attends The Crossing Church in Chesterfield, Missouri.
