I spent a long time looking at this photograph today. Many minutes, because I had to, and because it was worth it.
Kristin took it at breakfast this morning. I was sitting right there, and I was enjoying the moment, but seeing the photograph was a different experience entirely.
In general, I look at a lot fewer photographs these days. It takes me longer to make sense of what’s going on in them. The colors and lines just won’t resolve into recognizable objects the way they used to. Sometimes it takes a few seconds, or a few minutes before I realize who or what is in a picture.
But there’s a flip side to this, because I don’t see life as quickly as I used to either. It takes time for me to make sense of what I see, for my brain to construct an image out of the faulty and partial information my eyes pass along. And life doesn’t always stick around waiting for me to make sense of it.
My daughter is a toddler right now, and she doesn’t stick around long enough for almost anything. Sometimes, if the light is just right and at just the right angle, and she moves in just the right way so she’s framed in it perfectly, and of my eyes feel like behaving themselves at just the right moment, I get this clear, fleeting glimpse of her face, and I get to see just how beautiful she is. These moments stick in my mind, but they are rare, and all too brief. I miss so many details so much of the time.
But when Kristin takes a photo like this—a crystal clear, stunning capture of a living moment—The world slows down. It stops, allowing me all the time I need to pore over the scene, working out and appreciating every feature and every nuance.
I know that a day will come when I won’t be able to see her this way, to know her face in this much detail, even from photographs. And I know that some day after that, I won’t know what she looks like at all.
And I will miss it.
It won’t affect my love for her, or my care for her. I will still play with her and laugh with her and teach her and share life with her. I will know a million things about her that are more important than her physical appearance.
But I will still miss it.
I’ll miss that shining grin and those sparkling blue eyes, those looks of joy, inquisitiveness, mischief, and wonder.
So for now, I will treasure the photographs, and I will gladly take all the time I need to etch every detail into my mind and into my memory.
7 thoughts on “The Value of Photographs”
My heart aches.
Thanks for sharing this from your heart. I think we wonder about how the loss of seeing your family affects you the most. Praying for more slow and clear moments.
Not a dry eye will be able to read this. My heart aches as well, Eric. You’re daughter is BEAUTIFUL!!!
You may see that photo better than most of us who scan a photo for 10-15 seconds and then move to the next thing. I think there is a Buddhist story about a monk who invited an important official to see his flower garden, and then pulled it all up except for one perfect blossom on the mantle, so that the official would really pay attention to what it looked like. She is beautiful, but I’m praying that over the years she will be beautiful in her relationship with you.
I like that story! She’ll always be many kinds of beautiful.
Thank you, Eric. Your bravery is evident.
Oh Eric, your insight really
puts meaning into the saying acknowledging that beauty really is in the eye and heart of the beholder. Your heart is beholding ever more fiercely and intensely than most of us could even imagine! God blesses us in wondrous ways and we must believe and know it to be true!