Pictureless

 December 25, 2022

The paper that lay strewn on the floor has been gathered up, the gifts are all opened. The twenty-something people who filled our home with laughter and excitement have all left. Heartfelt expressions of gratitude were the order of the day. And now the house is quiet. Scrolling through Facebook brings Christmas greetings with family photos filled with smiles. I could easily add to them, but was so busy with the day that my phone stayed in my pocket. It’s just as well; the photos would be significant to only a few people, and I’m sure the kids will be posting soon.

We are the most photographed people in history. Selfies capture nearly every moment of our lives to the point where people are becoming somewhat famous not for any accomplishment, but simply by virtue of being able to promote themselves on social media. My great-grandparents had at best a few dozen photos of themselves, mostly in old age when Kodak’s Brownie camera became popular. One generation more, and the only people photographed were the famous and infamous, and even they might have had one or two in their lifetimes. 

We are fascinated with images, but a photo cannot really capture the moment. Live streaming events has become a popular means of widening the audience, but doesn’t have the power to capture the atmosphere, the spirit of the actual moment. I think that’s because when people are actually physically together, there is a connection of human spirits that creates something that wasn’t there before the meeting. In a negative context, we call it a “mob spirit,” when collectively, people do things they wouldn’t normally do individually. Positively, this spiritual connection often happens in gatherings for worship or in healthy families. 

So there will be no photos, no videos from me. The joy of giving cannot be captured digitally because it’s recorded in my heart, not in bits and bytes. It was a wonderful day, and the thank you’s, both mine and theirs, continue to bubble over in my heart tonight.