Polaroids & People
Memories and friends are funny things,
They are the poorly-tied knots I am desperately trying
Not to let come undone
The average person will meet and remember ten thousand people during their lifetime.
That’s a lot of faces. A lot of personalities. A lot of souls. But how many of those will actually make a difference in our lives? How many will just come and go?
We invest and struggle and fight for and bless so many lives that will ultimately never matter in our own. Some will slip by us, and we’ll remember them as merely ungrateful. But others will tear themselves away. We will try to hold on, but we’ll only get hurt as they drive away.
So what’s the point, I often wonder. What’s the point of extending yourself, of reaching out, of even bothering to remember people who might at best forget you and at worst hurt you? Why do we even care?
Because it is not good for man to be alone.
Human beings were designed to live in a community. We are meant to seek each other out, to get to know each other. We are meant to experience each other, to build relationships with each other. Pain is an inevitable part of that process, but it’s worth it. Because all good things carry with them a risk of heartache. But those things are the only things worth having, the only things worth living for and the only things worth dying for.
If we’re not willing to reach for them, then we can just lock ourselves inside our houses and watch the world pass by. It’s a frightening and painful thing to step outside , but it’s necessary and vital. Sometimes, it’s even beautiful.
I wish I had a Polaroid of everyone I knew. I’m trying to take as many as I can. So I can remember who they are and what they mean to me---what they’ve given or what they’ve taken, what they’ve added or what they’ve subtracted.
Because for better or worse, they help make me who I am.
[I had a lot of Polaroids to share, but my scanner was behaving badly. These were the only two that made it]