Many years ago, when digital photo frames were a new-ish thing, I gifted them to all my family members for Christmas. I remember some deal that allowed me to buy an extra frame for half-price, so I bought one for myself as well.
After loading photos for the gift frames, I ran out of energy to do the same for mine. So I tucked that extra frame, still unopened and in the shipping box, on a back shelf of my office closet and, unfortunately, forgot about it.
But this week, while cleaning out that closet, I rediscovered the box and opened it.
At first, I thought I’d save the task of setting it up for another day (again). But I found myself doing it anyway, thinking I’d just plug it in and add a few photos. Instead, I dumped all my online photo albums into the account. I didn’t want to sift through to pick the “best” ones because I have an embarrassing (like really embarrassing) number of photos on my phone. I plugged the frame into the outlet, set it on the kitchen counter, and turned it on.
That little half-price digital frame has now become my favorite thing in the entire world.
I stop in the kitchen and stare at it for long periods of time, captivated. The photos change every minute, and they’re shuffled so they span decades. I took most of those photos, so I should remember them. But every single one delights and surprises me, as if seeing for the first time. I can’t believe how many there are, how many moments have been stacked upon each other, gathering digital dust on the interwebs.
This photo frame plays a slideshow of my life. Every shot takes me back to a place or a person or a time. And with it so many feelings.
Especially photos from those wild years when the kids were young. The boys were so funny, so curious, so carefree, and so entirely themselves. It was an exhausting time, but boy did it provide some cute photos.
I see photos with my mom, grandparents, and my friend Lindsay, and those remind me more of the love than the grief. The love is so much bigger than the grief.
I see photos of vacations and parties and family reunions. I see celebrations and victories and overcomings of all sorts. I am just so astonished by the colors and the fullness and the variety.
These aren’t curated, and that’s the best part. I’d sent all the photos, including the bad shots, the screenshots, the random shots.
But I’m so grateful, because that’s real. Life exists more in the candids than the poses anyway.
This morning, standing in the middle of my kitchen, enthralled by this carousel of images, I can’t stop thinking about a Bible verse about Mary. It’s a forgettable line because it comes in the middle of the Christmas story, and there are so many other important things happening at the time. But the verse has always stuck with me and it keeps coming up for me now, as I look at the frame.
Shortly after an angel appeared to the shepherds in nearby fields, announcing what had happened in Bethlehem, the shepherds hurried off and found Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus, who was lying in the manger.
When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. -Luke 2:17-18
Treasured up all these things. I think of layers and stacks of things, all stored in Mary’s heart.
I think we all do the same. And that’s what comes to mind when I stare at that picture frame.
I’m staring at my heart’s treasure trove, beautiful memories layered and stacked atop one another.
If you took my heart and placed it on the kitchen counter, you’d find all these snapshots of people I love, of good days and every days, of a life filled with living.
But always room for more.
Interested in object-based storytelling? My memoir, Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost, is available here. 📖💙
I love this Kim!
Beautiful!