A few weeks ago a friend asked me if I wanted to come along with him and his buddies on a surfing trip. Several out-of-town friends were going to be there, and he really wanted to get some good pictures of them doing one of their favorite things together, so he asked me to bring my photo gear. He also invited me to surf if I wanted to, as well, but seeing as how I've never even been on a skateboard let alone atop a rushing ocean wave, I opted not to embarrass myself and to stick to what I know.

I was intimidated when I first showed up. For one thing, everyone was really tall. Now by no means am I diminutive, but with these guys I was constantly craning my neck back to stay in the conversation. Second, everybody was there to participate in an activity that involves a lot of athletic skill and courage, two things I have always felt I lack and hated myself for it.

I don't know if insecure thoughts and feelings can ever be conquered, as in made to disappear entirely; but then it doesn't really matter, because they start losing power as soon as you decide that they should. Besides, everybody was friendly to me. If part of me believed I didn't belong in this crowd, the crowd wasn't treating me that way, so I didn't see how that belief could serve anyone. So I decided to settle in and be comfortable, talk and get to know people, and do what I do.

It was already evening by the time the surfing began, and at the location the guys had picked the sun ended up being behind them as it descended to the horizon. Not good conditions for photos.

For action shots you need a fast shutter speed in order to capture crisp images (and surfing is extremely fast action), and when the shutter isn't open very long, it doesn't collect a lot of light. Direct sunlight is actually bad for many kinds of photos because it is so intense and harsh, but for surfing it would've been perfect. Unfortunately, I had to work in twilight, with the main source of illumination gracing only the backs of the surfers.

With a lot of running back and forth on sand and on concrete, hastily rearranging my camera settings and switching lenses, I began to think I would be able to get at least one good capture of each surfer. There was also the obstacle of several of them being hard to tell apart. I mean, they were a bunch of tall, white guys with their hair flattened by seawater, and I was scores of yards away on dry land. I had to identify them sometimes only by their surfboards, but then I realized some of them were sharing!

As a photo op, the evening surf outing was definitely a challenge. Despite the difficulties, I had a great time and was glad I'd been invited. After I loaded the pics onto my computer at home, I even discovered that I'd nabbed a few really good ones — great stuff for my portfolio, and sure to be cherished by the guys featured in them. In my mind the whole thing was enjoyable, and a success. I was satisfied with that.

I kept in touch with a couple of the guys (other than the one I knew who had invited me) because they wanted to get discs for themselves if possible. Through talking to one of them, I learned he was a photographic hobbyist and wanted to get into professional work. On a whim I threw out an invitation to assist me on an upcoming wedding I had on my schedule. It was going to be my biggest wedding yet, and the couple were very good friends of mine, so I had already been hoping to find some support for the shoot. Surprisingly, he eagerly signed onto the 12-hour day.

And it was a long day. I was with the bride and groom literally from the first comb through hair to the bouquet toss and mad dash through bubbles to the limo. Most of it was outside, too, in the 90-plus heat and Florida humidity.

The ceremony was just about the only part that wasn't outdoors. It took place inside a darkened church, which is almost as challenging a place to shoot as a shoreline at dusk. As I weaved through the wedding party, trying to stay low and stay out of the way but still get good shots of the nuptials, it was a relief to know somebody else was out there getting another perspective, covering what I couldn't.

The bride and groom also wanted to try a lot of crazy action-shots of the wedding party, sort of their own whimsical take on official portraits. We were out in the park, in the glaring sunlight that would've been so welcome on the surfers but was now causing the bride's and the bridesmaids' dresses to blow out into blinding white, nebulous forms.

Doing the same hectic dance as before, all the while shouting commands to a large troupe all in formal wear, at high noon under the Florida sun, it was made a hundred times better to have another pair of eyes, another camera, a partner. When we finally took a break, long enough to go get an iced latte at the nearby Starbucks, it was just so much more relaxing to sit with somebody, and not alone. It's one of my church's themes: Life is better together. The fact that they truly get that is one of the reasons I go there.

I didn't think the running and jumping and goofy-posed pictures of the enormous wedding party were going to come out. When the day was finally over, as much as I wanted to collapse immediately onto the mattress, I still had to see. It took two hours for all the pictures to transfer onto my computer. I went straight to the wedding party shots — and I saw it.

In the midst of scores of captures, an absolute gem. The action was crisp, every expression was perfect. A totally fun, dynamic, well-composed shot that captured a heap of joy and excitement that was exactly the feeling of the day. I almost cried. In fact, I shouted, "It's alive!" as if I was Dr. Frankenstein. That's just how the emotion came out. I'm not sure why.

Having a partner took so much of the stress and anxiety out of a day whose possibilities had been as looming as they were promising. It freed me up to do my best, to do good by my friends. Success! It was so much better together. And all because I told my insecurities to shove it and let myself hang out with some surfers.

That wasn't the only unexpected blessing that came from the surf outing. I met my friend — who'd initially invited me — a few days afterward and we were having lunch. It turned out that his brother worked for a company that creates designer watches, and he wanted to give me one as a thank-you. I was so surprised, but also really excited. I mean, these were really cool watches. Kind of expensive too. Totally not something I would ever get for myself. I even got to choose the one I wanted out of a lineup.

I don't know if gifts are one of my top "love languages." I guess I don't like to admit that because it seems like a shallow one — too (seemingly) materialistic. But gifts are few and far between, so they are special. And it hit me when I chose my favorite one and put it on (it has a square face — I love square-faced watches!). I felt appreciated, accepted, all that good stuff.

And I really didn't see it coming. It certainly wasn't as if I was angling for a free watch; I had no concept of the possibility. But here it was, and it felt awesome.

I honestly went into that evening of surfing and shooting without an agenda. I just wanted to hang out with some guys and hone my photographic skills. Very basic, general wants that weren't entirely self-serving. And I got all of that, but I also got a new friend, a helping hand, a healthy dose of affirmation and a sick watch.

How many unexpected blessings have I missed because I had my heart set on some other specific outcome or reward? How often do I approach relationships, opportunities, challenges — even God Himself — with my own little agenda? I want to overcome this obstacle (and here's what "overcoming" looks like to me). I want to meet my future spouse and get on with that story (which I've already written in my head, by the way). I want to be successful at this endeavor over here (and here's my definition of success, thank you).

What if I had somehow approached the surfing shoot with that attitude? What if I had dreamed up some other pleasing consequence of my participation, and selfishly set my heart on it? I might've missed out on — even been disappointed with — the blessings that did come my way.

Perhaps my little dance with insecurity served me in that way. Not that I should have believed I was inferior to those men because they were tall, handsome or skilled. But just the fact that I had to do battle with my own issues (even privately), kept me humble, kept me away from presumption.

For whatever reason, that evening I just never got around to being very busy with wanting more and more good things. Then when more good things rolled my way, my hands were free, my face was up, and they hit me square in the chest.

Sweet.