The Priceless Treasure of a Photograph

Photographs and memories
Christmas cards you sent to me
All that I have are these to remember you
Memories that come at night
Take me to another time…”  Jim Croce

  Recently, I stumbled across a great story about Sir Ernest Shackleton. You may recall that Shackleton was the famed polar explorer who led three British expeditions to the Antarctic. After losing the race to the South Pole, Shackleton determined to cross Antarctica from sea to sea, via the Pole. But disaster struck this expedition when their ship, Endurance, became trapped in packed ice and was slowly crushed before the shore parties could land. The crew escaped by camping on the sea ice until it disintegrated, then by launching lifeboats to reach Elephant Island and ultimately the inhabited island of South Georgia, a stormy ocean voyage of 720 nautical miles. It ended up being Shackleton's most famous exploit.

  In the stirring chapter in which Sir Ernest tells of the loss of his ship among the ice floes, he describes an incident that touches the soft spot in our own souls. In the grip of the ice, the Endurance had been smashed to splinters. The entire party was out on a frozen sea at the mercy of the harsh and pitiless elements.

  Shackleton came to the conclusion that their best chance of eventually sighting land lay in marching to the opposite extremity of the floe. At any rate, it would give them something to do, and there is always solace in activity. So Shackleton ordered his men to reduce their personal baggage to two pounds each. For the next few hours every man was busy in sorting out his belongings – the treasures that he had saved from the ship. As you can imagine, it was a very difficult, heartrending business. Men stole gloomily and silently away and dug little graves in the snow, to which they committed books, letters, and various knickknacks of sentimental value. And when the final decisions had to be made, they threw away their little hoards of golden sovereigns and instead kept the photographs of their sweethearts and wives!

  Are you like me? I have a hard time ever throwing away an old photograph. Decades later I still remember the portrait of my grandparents, probably from their wedding day, on their bedroom wall. As a child, I loved looking at that old faded photograph.

  One of my regrets is that I no longer have a portrait of my mother. For years I had a small wallet size picture of her that I carried in my wallet. But after decades, it fell apart. There aren’t a lot of photographs from my childhood. Most of the few that we had were lost in a fire at my sister’s house many years ago. I think, like so many of us, if we ever had a fire at our home, after we knew that everyone was safe, if it was at all possible, I’d run back in and grab all the pictures that I could possibly carry.

  My daughter, Charity, gave me a priceless gift recently. Charity is a very gifted photographer and has a wonderful artistic sense. For the past few years, she’s been taking old photographs of our family, having them blown up and framing them. Her efforts have produced a wall of wonderful memories that we walk by every day. For my birthday, Charity again had many of these pictures enlarged and framed.

  But there was one that immediately brought tears to my eyes. It was from a trip to Atlanta just a few years ago. After my Dad’s death, as with many families, my brother, Mike, and I had a falling out. To this day, I have no idea what it was over yet unbeknownst to me, he was very angry with me. I had contacted him and had asked that since Jane and I would be in the area, could we get together for dinner?

  But Mike was having no part of it. His wife, Susan, and the rest of his family insisted…and Mike ultimately came. At first, it was tense and a bit uncomfortable, yet we were able to rebuild that relationship bridge and left dinner with things resolved. Unbeknownst to any of us, it would be the last time that we would all be together. We took a picture that night outside the restaurant of all of us gathered together. Just a few months later, Mike was gone, having died in his sleep. He was only 69. His death came without warning. So when I unwrapped that photograph, tears welled up in my eyes. I was so thankful that he had come that night and we had been able to restore our relationship.

  Photographs remind us that life is short. As I look back over the pictures of our family, it seems like just the other day that my children were tykes. Now they’re all adults, making their own way through life. Life is short. Yet, all of us struggle with relationships…sometimes with parents, our children or siblings, even other family members. Ephesians 4:26 commands us, “do not let the sun go down on your anger…” Two of my family members once went seven years without speaking. How tragic! What a waste! Every time that you were with one of them, they’d almost incessantly talk about how angry and mistreated they’d been by the other. They were miserable to be with. It was nearly impossible to get them to change the subject. Eventually, they did resolve it, yet seven years were thrown onto the ash heap of time, gone and never to be restored.

  Sadly, some situations are seemingly irresolvable. Yet, again Scripture commands us in even those difficult relationships, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” (Romans 12:18).

  The one person, the only person that you can control – is you. Make sure that you have done everything from your side of the relationship to make things right. Sometimes, you reach a seeming roadblock that appears insurmountable. Make it a matter of prayer and determine by God’s grace to not let a root of bitterness wrap its tentacles into your soul, sapping away the peace of God from your own life (Hebrews 12:15).

  Make lots and lots of memories. There is a cultural myth that memories are made by some big expensive vacation or event. They’re not. Memories are part of the day in and day out of life. Some of our family’s favorite memories are water fights or building a snowman. It was talking late into the night. Or, even making a meal together. Even huddling as a family around a hospital bed, to pray together before a surgery.

  I don’t want to mislead you. Because of my family background, I had to work very hard at it. And more times than I want to remember or even admit, I failed terribly. But by God’s grace, I’m glad that I kept trying.

  We’re coming into the holiday season. What pictures are you going to take? What memories are you going to make? Please make lots and lots of them! It’s possible that they may be the very last ones that you have a chance to make. 

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