I didn’t take a picture. Part of me wanted to document the moments, to catch the smiles on camera. But I also wanted to be in on the excitement, not an outsider looking through a lens.
The children sorted all the ornaments on the living room floor while Steven wrangled the lights onto the tree. Then one by one, each ornament got lifted and hung on a branch. The new picks this year: A Scooby Doo ornament for Ephraim and a gingerbread church for Madeleine. Such fitting choices that reflect each child – Ephraim’s inexhaustible quest for fun, Madeleine’s steady appreciation of beauty. The one moment I would have captured: my daughter’s ecstatic face when she got to put the angel on the top of the tree!
But there was no flash. No hum of the camera focusing. Just a focusing of the heart, like a telescope bringing my children’s souls closer to me, exposing every joy, every fear. The images that string together to make a life.
Already I feel like the days and weeks pass too quickly, that my 6-year-old has already passed through one third of her time with us, that I sometimes let what could be loving moments drop to the floor and smash in my impatience.
Frame: A mother and a father, a son and a daughter. A warm living room lit with Christmas lights. Peace in their small world tonight.
Flash
Treasure those “focusing of the heart” moments. String them together in your heart to remember years later when your little ones are grown ones with little ones of their own.