I struggled when I read this last theme post: Your Last Day. It seemed too broad. Too all encompassing. Too mighty to tackle with AN image. I dreaded it all year. As it approached, I asked the ladies in the group to discuss the topic, to help get my brain stewing. The wonderful Gail asked me "you have nothing to say to your kids if it were your last day on earth?"
Oh.
Oh, well THAT. Yeah, I certainly have something to say about THAT. Duh.
So I decided I'd do something involving faith. I'd want my kids to know that above all else, it is their faith in God that is the most important. I believe that wholeheartedly. But then last Friday happened. The tragedy. The tragedy involving children the ages of my own. It put a whole new level of perspective on what it would mean to communicate on Your Last Day.
I was so struck by the stories I read of the teachers holding those precious little faces and telling them they loved them. Holding their palms on each of those sweet, soft cheeks, noses pressed close together, eyes boring into eyes. They broke the school rules, but they wanted those children to hear, at least one last time that somebody loved them, and loved them fiercely. Was so happy that they got to know them.
And I couldn't shake that. I just keep thinking about that. Day after day after day that has passed. I've said so many times of late how I realize just how much of a bubble I live in, with nice neat little people with nice neat little homes and nice neat little children and nice neat little lives. Entering the land of public school opened my eyes to the reality of many children's lives. They don't live the life my kids do - and my kids have utterly no concept of what that life for them must be like.
All of that to say, if it were my, or Little Buddy, or the Little Lady's last day, I'd want to hold their little faces in my hands, feel the sweet softness of their young skin, and look them in the eye, and make sure they knew that I LOVED them. I love them with a fierce, unbreakable, unstoppable, unmovable love. That I am so proud to be their momma. And that I am so eternally grateful that God gave them to me, for the days that He has, and that I get to be their momma.
Be sure to follow my circle - the last one of 2012 - and see how Jayme Franklin, and the other ladies have interpreted Your Last Day.
I shot these with my
D90
Sigma 30mm f1.4
Nikon 85mm f1.8
Nikon 50mm 1.4DOh.
Oh, well THAT. Yeah, I certainly have something to say about THAT. Duh.
So I decided I'd do something involving faith. I'd want my kids to know that above all else, it is their faith in God that is the most important. I believe that wholeheartedly. But then last Friday happened. The tragedy. The tragedy involving children the ages of my own. It put a whole new level of perspective on what it would mean to communicate on Your Last Day.
I was so struck by the stories I read of the teachers holding those precious little faces and telling them they loved them. Holding their palms on each of those sweet, soft cheeks, noses pressed close together, eyes boring into eyes. They broke the school rules, but they wanted those children to hear, at least one last time that somebody loved them, and loved them fiercely. Was so happy that they got to know them.
And I couldn't shake that. I just keep thinking about that. Day after day after day that has passed. I've said so many times of late how I realize just how much of a bubble I live in, with nice neat little people with nice neat little homes and nice neat little children and nice neat little lives. Entering the land of public school opened my eyes to the reality of many children's lives. They don't live the life my kids do - and my kids have utterly no concept of what that life for them must be like.
All of that to say, if it were my, or Little Buddy, or the Little Lady's last day, I'd want to hold their little faces in my hands, feel the sweet softness of their young skin, and look them in the eye, and make sure they knew that I LOVED them. I love them with a fierce, unbreakable, unstoppable, unmovable love. That I am so proud to be their momma. And that I am so eternally grateful that God gave them to me, for the days that He has, and that I get to be their momma.
Be sure to follow my circle - the last one of 2012 - and see how Jayme Franklin, and the other ladies have interpreted Your Last Day.