The best moments in life cannot be found in photographs.
They don’t do justice to the sparkle of your daughter’s eyes, or your son’s brave smile. Videos can’t capture how it feels to have small arms wrapped around your neck or to jump around in circles on the trampoline until you both collapse in a heap of giggles.
Often pausing to capture that photo or video takes away from the moment. It doesn’t turn out just right, so you have to stage it again. And then, it’s not about the memory, it’s about the picture and how the Instagram filter brings out the color or the comment it receives on Facebook.
Yesterday evening, after a long day of riding along on the little girl drama roller coaster, I had a chance to spend one-on-one time with my daughter. It was time she had been craving: me all to herself.
She needed me. Not me and my phone, or me and Facebook, or me and whoever might text or call me. She needed all of me.
I resisted the great urge to put my phone in my pocket, just in case I wanted to take a picture, and left it inside.
We played on the swings and buried our feet in the sand box. We jumped high on the trampoline, and even invited the moon and the first star in the sky to play with us, too. We rested and watched the sun paint the sky red and orange and pink and purple. And we talked about how God was like the wind pulling the clouds across the sky and rustling through the trees, moving all around us.
I have no picture to share on Facebook or with this blog post of our special evening.
But not every memory needs an electronic reminder. The best kind are etched in our hearts.