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Still with Jesus

Crammed on this computer or the one across the room are memories of our kids learning to walk, of kids growing hair long enough to cut, kids toting cats, carving pumpkins, running through sprinklers, kids…growing up.

Only they exist in pixels.  Strictly…in pixels.

Some time around my son’s first birthday I stopped printing our digital pictures.  Or having them printed.  Or whatever it is that means we no longer passed around a stack of 4x6s or taped one to the fridge.

Seemed easy.


Or lazy.

And it’s possible something was sacrificed.

I’ve realized from the number of times my kids have pulled the tiny, red picture-wallet from my purse to reminisce about their smaller selves, that they long to see more pictures.  They long to remember being older than one and four.

Yesterday my son pointed to a small photo of just his sister.  He turned to her in the van.  “Was I still with Jesus?” he asked.

She put her arm around his car seat.  He leaned in. “Yes,” she said.  “I was two, and you were still with Jesus.”


One Response to “Still with Jesus”

  1. Linda H says:

    Just too sweet …

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