Today I spoke at my mom’s group meeting. Yes, I’m in a mom’s group–laugh all you want 🙂 I wasn’t the “main” speaker–just one of five that was asked to share a story.  I am not a speaker. I write. Hence. . . the blog. When I speak, I sweat, I shake, my voice is weak and unsure. And it’s totally involuntary. I try to stop it with all my might, but I can’t. So four minutes in front of 75 women felt like an eternity. In fact, I can’t even remember any of it–it’s all a big blur. Ask me if I even made any sense, and I wouldn’t be able to answer that for you.

So, that’s why I literally read word for word my “notes”. I think I may have looked up maybe once.

And because it’s important enough to share with more than just the women in my mom’s group, you get the little talk too.  Except I don’t have to read it for you with a microphone–you can read it yourself. (And here are all the images that accompanied my little talk so they would look at the pictures and not at me!).

I wanted to talk briefly about my own journey to having the courage to find the significance in the everyday. The writer of this section in our MOPS book struggled with this. She said, “I know so many people who despise their ordinary existence and think that their life does not have much significance unless they are performing Facebook-worthy acts. We live in a time and a culture that celebrates the extraordinary, yet so much of life is made up of the mundane. Routine and repetition fill most moments. I can’t help but feel that our quest for efficiency has stolen life from us, taken our ability to see the beauty in the mundane.”

It was because of this same thought process that I began a project a year and a half ago. A journey that began in the here and now—but one that will be a great gift in the future. I’ve come to learn that yes, my daily moments may be insignificant now. My everyday life with my three boys may seem mundane and small. But they are anything but that. My adventure began January 1^st, 2014.

I don’t believe much in new year’s resolutions, but I decided that I was going to try to complete what I called a Project 365. God had decided to bless me with the ability to document life through photography, so I decided that I was going to use this gift and I was going to take one photo everyday of a moment. Just one moment. Some days it was a special moment—blowing out birthday candles, doing a fun activity on vacation, losing a first tooth, standing for the first time. But most days it was nothing significant. My boys playing, reading, eating, getting off the bus, hanging out with a friend, brushing their teeth. Everyday stuff. Stuff that seems pretty insignificant.

And something amazing started happening. As I continued to take pictures everyday, and as I looked back on these images, I realized that I was creating this incredible story for my boys for their future. I realized that I was taking little pieces of their childhood and bottling it up for them for their adult selves. I was weaving together the story of their small moments, and their big moments and their everyday moments, and I was making our insignificant moments more significant than I could ever imagine.

A timeless gift to capture the true essence of our family’s life right now. Because in thirty years, when I can gift my sons with images filled with storytelling moments from their childhood, how can it get anymore significant than that? I have taken something that cannot ever have a do over, and made it invincible. Moments captured in a single frame that they will be able to share with their wives and their own children. That they can look back on and smile and remember and think—wow. . . my mom loved me so much that everyday mattered—no matter how ordinary of a day it was.

I’m on year two of my project 365. It’s become a habit, though sometimes I smack my forehead when a perfect picture of the day arises and I don’t have my camera with me. I have taken my camera to Wegmans, to the library, the doctors office, preschool, Target . . . anywhere and everywhere that is everyday for us. And if it wasn’t so darn big, I would literally bring it with me everywhere.

I look through the pictures often, I smile. I tear up. I am reminded how truly amazing my little life is as I look back on these small moments. I look through my boys story in pictures and I can’t help but be reminded of the blessing of life. I know these days seem insignifcant now, but in twenty years. . . and in thirty years, I know I will long for these days once more. And I will be able to look back and remember.