"Forrest" – A Moment of Stillness at Triple Falls
Jun 29, 2025
There are days when the world feels too heavy—when headlines blur together in a storm of heartbreak, confusion, and anger. On one of those days, I found myself needing to breathe. Not the shallow kind of breath you take in the middle of a busy day, but the deep, soul-cleansing breath that only nature can offer. So I grabbed my camera and wandered into the forest.
DuPont State Recreational Forest has always been a sanctuary to me. Its trails wind through whispering trees and over rushing streams, like veins carrying life and calm into the heart of chaos. As I walked, I didn’t have a plan. I just needed space—space to talk with God, to sit in my thoughts, to ask the questions that had been weighing heavy on my heart.
I didn’t expect anything extraordinary. But life rarely tells you when a moment is going to change you.
As I rounded a bend, I arrived at the base of Triple Falls. The roar of the water was commanding, but what caught my eye wasn’t just the powerful current—it was the delicate burst of spring blooms nestled right at its base. Bright, fragile petals dancing on thin stems, swaying in the mist of a waterfall that could sweep them away in an instant.
And somehow, they stood.
I stared for a long time. Something about those blooms—clinging to life so close to destruction—struck a deep chord in me. I saw myself in them. I saw all of us.
Then, out of the blue, I thought of Forrest Gump.
I don’t know why it came to mind at first, but the more I stood there, the more it made sense. The older I get, the more I relate to Forrest. A man with a tender heart, misunderstood by the world around him. Someone who didn’t fit the mold, who loved deeply, who stumbled through tragedy and joy alike, just trying to be good. Trying to be kind. Trying to make sense of it all.
That’s how I’ve felt lately—like a soul that sees beauty in things others miss, love in places others overlook. And at the same time, overwhelmed by a world that feels too loud, too fast, too broken.
I started to cry—not from sadness exactly, but from something deeper. A mix of grief and gratitude. Of feeling small but seen. Of realizing that maybe we’re all just trying to bloom in the mist of our own waterfalls.
That moment felt sacred. It felt like God had led me there to remind me that there is still beauty. Still hope. Still delicate strength in the most unexpected places.
So I lifted my camera and captured it.
And I knew instantly what I’d name the image: Forrest.
Not just because of the trees, not just because of where I stood—but because of what that moment meant. Because of the soul who walked through that forest needing answers, needing grace, needing to feel loved and known again.
This print is a piece of that moment. A reminder that beauty can thrive at the edge of chaos. That God meets us in the wilderness. And that even in the middle of a confusing, hurting world, gentle hearts still matter.
If Forest speaks to you—if you’ve ever felt like a delicate soul in a wild world—I hope this piece brings you peace. I hope it reminds you that you’re not alone. That you’re seen. And that like those blooms, you too can stand strong in the mist.
