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the pictures we take; the memories we keep




pictures and pictures and pictures. 

some blurred by the swift movement of spontaneous laughter or sudden change in direction. some lit by bright eyes and wide smiles. some accidentally taken, by sticky-fingered sneaky hands. some grabbing the complexity of layers upon layers of color in the sky over Kerala and transforming it into tangible glory. some capturing the simplistic joy of running through the green grass of our backyard. some embodying the dreams of my parents and the faithfulness of a Mighty Creator. some attempting to freeze the exact moment i see a world of hope in the dark pupils of a small child's gaze in a busy village. some are posed and orchestrated to include all participants' best smiles and angles, all in coordinating colors. some are candid and realistic, no pattern or planning, just life. 

some of these photographs will never be shared or rediscovered; some of them will not be looked at in the near future, maybe not for years and years to come... not because they are imperfect or because they lack value, but because in an effort to capture all of these amazing moments, we have to pick and choose our memories. we journal and share and print and catalog and paste and cut and organize... we look at the faces and the subjects and the instances and we reminisce. maybe we think about when times were harder or easier, when life was a struggle or when it was finally a triumph, when life was brand-new or became a well-earned routine. maybe these pictures make us grateful for what we had then or what we have now. maybe it takes us back to visions of clarity or of finding ourselves, when we stood on a high point and looked down below, when we stood as a family next to the beauty of nature. when we fought and survived, when we masked the pain to be strong for those we love. when our hearts were bursting or slowly breaking. when our souls were illuminated by pure joy and the opportunities to truly live were right there, and we clutched tightly with feeble hands. 

i try to take pictures of experiences i want to remember, or at least experiences i know i need to hold onto. travels, meals, shared adventures, simple activities. these all hold meaning to me, all of these components of our living add something to my life. they contribute to conversations, realizations, lessons, and growing... growing of myself and of my marriage, of my teaching, and of my faith, of my character and my dreams. 


recently, the pictures journal my children. the pictures display the many milestones they have reached, and the many new challenges they have taken on.  the photographs are a witness to their resiliency and their curiosity, their stubborn will and teeming tantrums, their fierce strength and gentle spirits, their giving hearts and their unique beauty.
the pictures become treasures because the pictures can remain, even when memories begin to fade. 

these photos that i so adamantly save will, hopefully, serve as reminders when seasons of our lives need to be recalled and talked about and shared and laughed at and cried over and held tight to. 

picture after picture after picture. 
season after season after season.  


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