Sunday, November 08, 2009

Missing the Shot

We spent a lot of time at the new house this weekend trying to prepare for moving day. Luke loves the back yard at the new house and has begged each time we've gone to spend time out there, which is fine, as long as one of us can be out there with him. Sadly, that has not been possible with all the "inside work" we've been doing. But Sunday afternoon, we were unloading things from the car, constantly in and out the back door. At least one of us was out there more often than not, so we let him stay outside and run around.

One thing about Project 365 is that it has forced me to look at my world a little differently and to carry my camera with me everywhere. In fact, I usually feel like a part of me is missing when I don't have it. There are still occasional days when it doesn't cross my mind to take a photo, but those are thankfully rare. I am nearly always there, with a camera, waiting for the opportune moment. But this time, my camera was inside on the counter instead of on my person. At some point, as I came back outside, Luke was completely oblivious to my presence, so I got to watch him "just being Luke" for a while.

He was wandering around, his head thrown back, chasing leaves as they fell from the trees, smiling and laughing the whole time. I was moved to tears watching the pure joy on his face, something so simple and innocent on a perfectly stunning fall day. It was a beautiful moment, and I'm so glad I came outside at the right time to experience it.

As I went back inside, I saw my camera sitting on the counter. For a brief moment, I lamented the fact that I hadn't had it with me. I could have captured that beautiful moment forever. Wouldn't that have been great? Then I reconsidered. If the camera had been in my pocket, where it usually is, I would have been much more focused on getting the shot than on what I was seeing. The "experience" of the moment would have been lost. Yes, I would have the photo, but it would have interrupted the emotional impact of simply "being." Instead, I have a complete unblemished memory of a brief perfect moment in my son's life.

Sometimes it's better to miss the shot.

Currently feeling: blessed

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