Accidental Posting
I don't have time to blog today. But I read and responded to my friend. And this came out. Yikes. I had to put it here too.
__________________________
Moving forces the opportunity to take a look at posessions long forgotten, like old pictures of when the wee ones were still wee. I was tempted to give all the pictures and videos of the little boy to the grown up man's fiance. Oh, she will get some, but I got to thinking that those days were our time. We try to share the memories with the one we prayed for all those years before we knew her, to let her in on the joy of the amazing, adorable little guy her man used to be. The smiles and laughs and little sense of humor that had us cracking up every single day. But they are our memories. It was our time. Now it's grown up man time and it's her time. Those darling little people that used to scurry around our legs are long gone. We are as proud and pleased as we can be of the adults they have become, but when I see those pictures, I miss the little buggers they were. So, I'll give a few photos to my new daughter and copy whatever she wants, but I'll keep most of those tattered prints from Mr. Olan Mills and the ones I actually took time to snap myself. I need to make sure I take another look before we have to move again. The precious, ephemeral wisps of images and sounds they evoke in my head dig deep into my soul and feel so sublime and hurt so badly that they make me sense the essence of life itself. The loss is tremendous, and the having had the gift of something so wonderful that the passing of it hurts so much is blessed. Ahh! I just looked out the window and saw my first hummingbird of the season flitting about the trees. Such a tiny little wonder, a hummingbird. It stirs up the desire to get one's head and heart around it. But you can't. Just like you can't do it with a mountain. The hummingbird and the mountain are the same in that way - creations so full of the creator's glory that you can contemplate them until you go crazy but you can never finish with them. So life goes on. And beckons me to run after it.
__________________________
Moving forces the opportunity to take a look at posessions long forgotten, like old pictures of when the wee ones were still wee. I was tempted to give all the pictures and videos of the little boy to the grown up man's fiance. Oh, she will get some, but I got to thinking that those days were our time. We try to share the memories with the one we prayed for all those years before we knew her, to let her in on the joy of the amazing, adorable little guy her man used to be. The smiles and laughs and little sense of humor that had us cracking up every single day. But they are our memories. It was our time. Now it's grown up man time and it's her time. Those darling little people that used to scurry around our legs are long gone. We are as proud and pleased as we can be of the adults they have become, but when I see those pictures, I miss the little buggers they were. So, I'll give a few photos to my new daughter and copy whatever she wants, but I'll keep most of those tattered prints from Mr. Olan Mills and the ones I actually took time to snap myself. I need to make sure I take another look before we have to move again. The precious, ephemeral wisps of images and sounds they evoke in my head dig deep into my soul and feel so sublime and hurt so badly that they make me sense the essence of life itself. The loss is tremendous, and the having had the gift of something so wonderful that the passing of it hurts so much is blessed. Ahh! I just looked out the window and saw my first hummingbird of the season flitting about the trees. Such a tiny little wonder, a hummingbird. It stirs up the desire to get one's head and heart around it. But you can't. Just like you can't do it with a mountain. The hummingbird and the mountain are the same in that way - creations so full of the creator's glory that you can contemplate them until you go crazy but you can never finish with them. So life goes on. And beckons me to run after it.
posted by wingman at 8:17 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home