Take Pictures

This weekend, I attended the funeral of a young lady who went to our first home church here in Kentucky.  She was only 17 years old, very active with the youth group, and LOVED God.  Kaylee loved her very much and was really torn up about her death.  The entire community has been torn up about her death.  Prayer vigils brought news teams and hundreds of people.

This young lady touched the life of so many people.  For the visitation and viewing, more than 800 people came.  At the funeral, it was standing room only.  I stood in the back, because I was alone with no children and didn’t want to take the seat of someone who might need it.  As I stood there waiting for the service to begin, I watched the screen up in the front of the church as a Powerpoint presentation played in time to beautiful music.  As the voice of Randy Travis singing Amazing Grace filled the auditorium, I watched as picture after picture after picture of this young lady’s life played out.  Fun pictures, beautiful pictures, goofy pictures, serious pictures – it was apparent that if there was a camera around, the person taking the picture was attracted to her.

As I stood there, I got to thinking about my own children – because, how could you not with such tragedy?  As I thought of them, I realized that I don’t take enough pictures.  I always remember my camera, but I never remember to pull it out.  There was a picture of this girl sitting on the lap of a Ronald McDonald statue and it made me laugh because that is something Kaylee would do.  But, I asked myself, when Kaylee did something like that, would I take a picture of it?

I’m good about it at home.  There’s usually a camera within reach of something silly happening, but once we’re out and about, that’s when I no longer take pictures.  I don’t know why.  It just doesn’t occur to me.  I’m tempted at this point to buy a neck strap and just wear a camera around my neck at all times, constantly snapping shots of my children and my husband, making sure that someone around takes pictures of me.

Another thing is that Gregg hates having his picture taken. In fact, I think I am just about the only person he tolerates snapping his photograph, but even then his patience wears thin at times. He’ll smile his mischievous smile that says he’d rather be doing absolutely anything else rather than enduring the flash of the camera and ask, “Don’t you think you have enough pictures of me?”

No.  I don’t.  I want a million more.  Of you, of us, of the kids, of our family.

Do that for yourself.  Go take pictures of your kids.  Wrap your arms around your husband’s neck and take a picture of the two of you.  Hand the camera over to someone sitting next to you in the restaurant and have him  take a picture of you and your family.

Do it so that you have something wonderful and fun, something that will make you smile and remember that day or that picnic or that trip.  Don’t make it so that some time in the future you wish you had more pictures.  Do this one thing for you now, so that your kids can show their grandchildren how amazing life was way back then.

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