Remember to make memories

In my previous post, I wrote about one of my wife's students, Jason, and his father who has cancer and about the frailty and temporary nature of our life on this earth. This is one of the very reasons that I love photography. Photography allows us to freeze moments in time. It provides a way for us to remember the things we don't want to forget. Our minds and our memories are amazing, but despite our best efforts, we forget things. Pictures help us to remember. Not only do we see where we were and what we were doing, but we remember how we felt at the time. We can recall the emotions and the events surrounding the photo as well. A picture can let us relive that moment that was captured, at least in our mind.

We don't get a second chance to make memories. If those moments aren't captured, eventually they will become fuzzy. Despite our best efforts, we will eventually forget parts of the moment or event or day. So make an effort to document any time that you want to remember. Whether it's a cell phone snapshot from a day in the park with your kids or hiring a professional to capture all of the details of an important day like a wedding, don't miss the moments.

Make pictures, keep the memories.

Both of our girls asleep in my lap. Taken and edited with my cell phone. A memory I'll treasure forever.

Our Christmas card picture for 2011.
Do you know how hard it is to get a three-year-old and a 9-month-old to look at the camera and smile at the same time? (And we never sent the Christmas cards out!)

Temporary life

This morning, as I was getting in my office to start my day, I noticed I had a message from my wife. She teaches preschool, so she only contacts me if she has something really important to tell me. (OK, every once and a while She might leave a message just to tell me that she loves me, and those make my day.) The message I received today was basically, "Jason in my class whose dad has cancer came in and told me his daddy is going to heaven today. And it's true, they have called the family in. I can't handle this!"

When I finished the message, my heart skipped a beat. Then it fell into my stomach. I don't know Jason, but I do know that there is a four-year-old boy who will soon never see his father again on this earth. A hundred thoughts and questions filled my head. Sorrow for Jason, sorrow for his family, thankfulness for my good health, a prayer for those who are sick and hurting. I asked myself, "How do you explain to a young child that they will never be able to talk to or see their father again?" "What would I do if I were in that situation?" Then I thought about my own children, and how lucky I am to have my family.

Then I thought about the assurance we have in heaven, of a life infinitely better than this one that is to be had if we live this life for God and obey his commandments. To me, there is no greater comfort in death than this. Paul wrote in his second letter to the Christians in Corinth, "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." We have hope to be reunited with our loved ones after death, that death is temporary, and that victory comes only after death. I pray that I will teach my children to love God and obey his commandments so that we can all be in heaven together when our time on earth has ended.