Would the moments we treasure lose some of their value if we could stop, rewind or indefinitely pause the clock?
My baby is one.
The weight and shape of him as a newborn has disappeared into the past and today he is a curious explorer tottering forward on chubby legs, daily gaining momentum and stability.
I remember the small baby boy just born, blinking at me with blurred yet to develop vision. My arms encompassed him. When I carry him now his legs are draped over the side of my arm. A gentle reminder that I cannot surround or protect him forever. He is a gift.
small fragile
his weight instantly crushing
my heart
mine
I am his and he is mine
Is this how God feels about me?
fierce protective
tenderness
Eli is like a magnet. I can’t take my eyes off him. Even now, when he spends the afternoon with Grandma, I find myself missing him. His toddling run and wide gaited walk. His babbling on the brink of first words noises and slobbery smiles.
I want to remember. When I am old, being wheeled down halls and helped to the bathroom, I want to have mountains of memories to keep me company.
So I pause, taking mental pictures – willing for the moments to etch their shapes on my soul.
It’s easier to rush, hurry and worry my way forward. But when I do, I forget.
Eli beaming up at us to share his love of water.
Eli’s first steps.
Eli’s smile.
What helps you remember your most precious memories?
Deanne