Also, Why I Take Photos.

I noticed that I often send loved ones photos of myself. I recently clarified with Jeremy that I don’t do this because I look particularly great in the shot but because I want a witness to this moment. I realized this habit of mine could look like a vanity project and I also noticed that others rarely felt the need to send me photos of themselves. But over time I think I’m swaying Maralee to do the same. It’s the shared experience thing. It’s the I WAS HERE thing. It’s the documenting of a particular moment in time that feels, for whatever reason, notable. It’s saying, “I love you and I want you to know me. All of me. The good, bad, and the ugly amen.”

Writing is also a way of documenting my days. But writing, the habit, the love of it, the words words words came along much earlier than photography. I often say that I was born into my brother Adam’s world. He set the pace and the pattern of childhood in the Lawton household and I followed him in many, many ways—reading was just one of those ways. Mom and Dad couldn’t discipline us by sending us to our rooms because we loved to read so much that alone time was a cherished gift. I’m sure that my parents and Adam read to me before I could do it myself, and then I learned to do it myself quite early. I never stopped loving to read. Somewhere along the way my soul knew how words should link together to make phrases, sentences, and paragraphs, and then I never stopped loving to write. I’ve had quieter phases of life where the words don’t spill as readily, and I’ve also had seasons of abundance where my brain cannot quit creating. I’ve heard that fiction writers have characters rolling around in their minds. I’m a non-fiction writer. There aren’t made-up stories spilling out of me, but the real moments of life are tossed around, reformulated, captured in poetry and hilarity and shared experiences and poured out through my fingers. I have always been like this.

Writing and photography make great companions, as seen here in over 25 years of captured thoughts.

Writing and photography declare, for me, I WAS HERE and LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT IT.

Writing and photography are a part of me, like a spigot I can’t figure out how to shut off but truly I wouldn’t turn it off even if I could because that would feel like placing a dam where one should never exist. I’m meant to flow like a river. It’s nice to have you here if you want to float with me.

Dad sneezed in the sunshine. In these past three years where he willingly-but-sadly gave up driving, I noticed the sneezes more than ever. Our car rides often began with a sneeze, a digging for a pair of sunglasses in his newly-acquired man bag, an “oh well!” if the glasses couldn’t be located, and then another digging in my car for a spare pair of his daughter’s sunnies. We both had large noggins (for all the many amazing thoughts in our brains!) so sunglasses could be shared.

When Andrew and I cleaned out Mom and Dad’s car to pass on to our nephew Noah we found roughly 77 pairs of Dad-sunnies stashed away.

During Dad’s last year of car rides with me we eventually stashed a pair of his glasses in my passenger door. I can be remarkably unsentimental about possessions, but this particular manly pair of sports sunnies HAS to stay put. It’s a touch of normalcy I’m not ready to let go of, a teeny bit of my dad that is still riding shotgun.

I’m not ready to comb through my social media posts to re-post them here.

Not quite ready to see the lovely comments and stories from those who knew and loved and admired my dad.

I’ve been replaying the events of early October 2026 over and over in my head, vainly trying to understand and come to terms with the moment Dad “shuffled off his mortal coil.” Mostly I roll over in bed, coming close to the surface of sleep after the end of a REM cycle and BAM! There it is, thoughts of death and love and weirdness and faith-becoming-sight. It’s all confusing and good and bad and twisted up inside of me still.

Someday I’ll add more in this space. Until then, here is my beloved Daddy’s obituary. Image and words are mine. (I haven’t called him Daddy in probably over 40 years but it’s been coming to mind more since he got promoted to Glory on October 7.)

David Pierce Lawton, age 78, of Lincoln, Nebraska, stepped into the presence of his Lord and Savior on October 7, 2026.

Born on February 18, 1948, in Santa Barbara, California, David lived a life of servant leadership as he followed Jesus Christ. Born to John and Mary Lawton, David looked up to his big sister Ruth and in turn was looked up to by his younger brothers John, Steve, Tom, Tim, and Mike. David is fondly remembered for his kindness, warmth, and generosity by many who knew him at Wheaton Academy, Covenant College, the University of Nebraska, churches and hospitals in Florida, Georgia, California, Oregon, and Nebraska, and by his nursing colleagues, nursing  students, and patients along the way. 

David absolutely cherished his college sweetheart Claudia Jones Lawton and was pleased to provide for her, honor her, and love her for every moment he had on this earth. David and Claudia raised their three children to be critical thinkers, lifelong learners, and compassionate, service-oriented human beings. He is survived by his wife of 54 years, Claudia, son Adam, daughter Rebecca (Jeremy), son Andrew (Jenny), and beloved grandchildren Livia, Harley, Noah, Pierce, and George. He leaves behind all of his siblings and their much-loved spouses, nieces and nephews who all wish they could hug him one last time.

A family-only private graveside service will be held soon. Memorial gifts may be given to Samaritan’s Purse International Relief.