Recently, while on an evening walk with our families, my friend and I reflected on memory. We live a whole lifetime, but recall such a small portion of it. Our memory can only produce the remnant of what we’ve categorized as high, low, and significant points that rise above the threshold of recollection.
It brought to mind a reality I face in motherhood.
Throughout our days together, many moments with my kids are so precious, so darling, that I am tempted to try and capture them. I end up taking a million photos of the same kids in the same setting. My phone’s photo album is full of them.
When cuddling my youngest one to sleep, and his sweet little face is nestled into my chest, I want nothing more than to pause the moment in time, to savor it longer than I know it will last.
Have you experienced this?
The photos we take are precious gifts. But I’ve noticed that all of my photo taking is an attempt to hold onto moments that were made to pass. These moments were simply made to be enjoyed.
Life as a whole is a river moving Godward. These earthly moments were made to move toward a final one. Creation is not its own final end, but in waiting for the appearing of its Maker.
When our Lord comes, and we behold him, not by faith but by sight - when Jesus comes to establish the new heavens and new earth, our final home, there will be no more movement toward a great destination.
We will have made it home to enjoy the lasting moment where all our longings for love and goodness himself are fulfilled.
Knowing this, I reckoned that I can either spend the next cherished moment clumsily opening the Camera app on my phone, or enjoying it to the full with eyes fixed on the goodness of it, heart bent in gratitude toward God. I’ve resolved to do more of the latter.
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