photo by Poohka
We still have a few boxes left to unpack from our move, mostly books and knick knacks and other miscellanea. I gave my son the job yesterday of sorting through all the DVDs and VHS tapes and putting them away. I didn’t think it would take as long as it did, but he couldn’t resist reading the back covers of all the movies. And we have a lot of movies.
We have our fair share of home movies, also. Last night, James waxed nostalgic and asked if we could watch one of the old tapes. He pulled one that said “1995 Family” and popped it in.
I had forgotten that my children were ever that little. James was seven months old and his sister was 2 ½, and a little later in the video their older brothers, aged nine and ten, showed up. They were all so cute. James mostly gurgled and ate his fist, Rachel spoke like Elmer Fudd, and both Steven and his brother Michael were just beginning their pre-teen swagger. I couldn’t help but enjoy myself thoroughly as I watched and remembered. Picture a lot of smiling and contented sighs.
Watching the videotape of my young family made me realize two things, though.
I have to take more pictures. I’m terrible about getting the camera out and remembering to use it. I allow myself to get way too busy with ‘life’ that I never get around to recording ‘life’. We also need to come up to the 21st century and get a digital one to replace the antiquated Brownie we have now. Maybe that would make it easier to use since I wouldn’t have to wait for a whole roll to be used up and then wait on it to be developed and pay for pictures that never come out.
They grow up way too fast. Every parent knows this. The enormity of that statement, however, was a lot more tangible as I watched my daughter sing “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt” in the bathtub, knowing that at this moment she’s over 500 miles away serving on a mission team. Or that her older brothers are no longer baby-faced boys pulling their toys out from under the Christmas tree, but men with responsibilities and challenges and battles of their own to fight. Or that her younger brother, who loved nothing more than to crawl up into his mother’s lap, can barely fit his lanky frame on the couch when he wants to rest his head on his mom’s shoulder.
We really have so little time with them before they’re out in the world on their own. Can we afford to squander their walk with God, hoping they’ll one day “get it”? Can we justify not teaching them about the Lord of the universe because we are too busy to get around to it?
Do we realize we will never have this time back once it’s gone?
We have our fair share of home movies, also. Last night, James waxed nostalgic and asked if we could watch one of the old tapes. He pulled one that said “1995 Family” and popped it in.
I had forgotten that my children were ever that little. James was seven months old and his sister was 2 ½, and a little later in the video their older brothers, aged nine and ten, showed up. They were all so cute. James mostly gurgled and ate his fist, Rachel spoke like Elmer Fudd, and both Steven and his brother Michael were just beginning their pre-teen swagger. I couldn’t help but enjoy myself thoroughly as I watched and remembered. Picture a lot of smiling and contented sighs.
Watching the videotape of my young family made me realize two things, though.
I have to take more pictures. I’m terrible about getting the camera out and remembering to use it. I allow myself to get way too busy with ‘life’ that I never get around to recording ‘life’. We also need to come up to the 21st century and get a digital one to replace the antiquated Brownie we have now. Maybe that would make it easier to use since I wouldn’t have to wait for a whole roll to be used up and then wait on it to be developed and pay for pictures that never come out.
They grow up way too fast. Every parent knows this. The enormity of that statement, however, was a lot more tangible as I watched my daughter sing “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt” in the bathtub, knowing that at this moment she’s over 500 miles away serving on a mission team. Or that her older brothers are no longer baby-faced boys pulling their toys out from under the Christmas tree, but men with responsibilities and challenges and battles of their own to fight. Or that her younger brother, who loved nothing more than to crawl up into his mother’s lap, can barely fit his lanky frame on the couch when he wants to rest his head on his mom’s shoulder.
We really have so little time with them before they’re out in the world on their own. Can we afford to squander their walk with God, hoping they’ll one day “get it”? Can we justify not teaching them about the Lord of the universe because we are too busy to get around to it?
Do we realize we will never have this time back once it’s gone?
No comments:
Post a Comment