The Moments We Keep

I have never considered myself much of a photograph person.

I am more of an introvert. I am more comfortable behind the scenes than on the actual stage. Perhaps that is why writing has always been my preferred form of expression over speaking. I would rather quietly observe, process what I see and feel, and then find the words to put it on paper.

For a long time, I approached photographs in much the same way. I did not feel the need to capture every moment. Life was happening, and I was there. Surely, I would remember.

Then my grandfather passed away.

Recently, I found myself going through photographs from an event where I had hired a professional photographer. There were many pictures of my grandfather,laughing, interacting with family, simply being present.
Those photographs gave us something we did not realize we would need. They allowed us to revisit moments.

My relatives could look at his face again, remember the occasion, remember what he was wearing, how he stood, who was beside him. We could tell stories that began with, “Do you remember this day?” A photograph would bring back a moment, and the moment would bring back a story.

But one photograph stopped me…

It was a photograph of my grandfather holding my hands and speaking words of blessing over me as I prepared to leave home for a foreign country.

I remember that moment…

But seeing it captured in a photograph was different.There he was, holding my hands, doing what he had done throughout his long life, showing up for his family.

Despite his age, my grandfather rarely missed family occasions. Big or small, important or seemingly ordinary, he was there. And now, I realize that perhaps those ordinary appearances were never ordinary at all.

We were creating memories without knowing it.

That photograph reminded me that memory alone is fragile. We remember the important things, but sometimes we forget the little details, the expression on someone’s face, the way they held your hand, who was standing nearby, what a particular season of life looked like.

A photograph remembers some of those things for us.

Something in me changed…

I now find myself wanting to capture the little moments I once overlooked.

I invested in a phone with a good camera, not because I suddenly want to live my life through a screen, but because I have begun to understand the value of having something to return to.

I want to photograph the sunset…

I want to photograph the snow when it falls…

I want to capture the ordinary days, the laughter, the family gatherings, the places I visit and even the seemingly insignificant moments that may one day become precious.

For so long, I think I was waiting for something big enough to celebrate.

The big achievement.

The big occasion.

The moment that would finally feel worthy of being remembered.

But perhaps life was never meant to be measured only by its biggest moments.

Life is also the collection of small ones…

A sunset on an ordinary evening.

Snow falling outside the window.

A meal shared with people you love.

A spontaneous laugh.

A journey.

A hug.

A grandfather holding your hands and speaking a blessing over you before you leave home.

These moments may not announce themselves as important when they happen.

Sometimes, we only discover their value later.

So now, I want to celebrate the little moments too.

I want to be present enough to enjoy them ,and intentional enough to keep a piece of them.

Not because I am afraid of forgetting everything.

But because I have learned that some memories deserve a place to live outside of us.

Perhaps that is what photographs have become for me…

Not proof that I was there.

Not a performance.

Not an attempt to make every moment look perfect.

Just little windows into a life that was lived.

Moments we were blessed to have.

Moments we may one day look back on and say,

I remember this.

And that, is enough reason to take the picture.

The Faithful Steward Chronicles.