Beaches and swimming pools make up a larger portion of home movies than they do our real lives. So do Christmas mornings and birthday parties. And children.
If aliens came to your neighborhood and abducted not your neighbors but their home movies, they’d think, after viewing them all, that earthlings are almost always under three feet tall, live near water, eat lots of flaming cake, grow trees indoors, and somehow afford their lives of leisure without ever going to work.
Home movies lie by leaving out the forgettable. And there’s a lot of that.
They celebrate and chronicle only the stuff we want to remember always, the stuff we can watch in the nursing home someday and say to ourselves, “See? It was a great life!”
It’s not like we can carry a camera everywhere we go. We’ve got lives to live, offices to go to, bathrooms to clean, yards to mow, televisions to watch and blogs to read. Cameras get in the way. So we pick them up only in those very rare moments when we’re at our best, moments we need to remember.
What would it be like to live a life you wished you could film everyday?
To do work worth remembering?
To have less to take care of so there’s more time to do stuff worth remembering?
To spend less time watching people live and more time actually living a life worth remembering?
I sure don’t want you to stop reading my blog but maybe you should. In the time it takes you to catch up on my life everyday, could you be doing something with yours that’s worth remembering?
The people I admire most have lived lives of such passion, generosity, humility, love and deep connection to God and people that they seem too good to be true. Like home movies.