A few weeks ago, in sorting through the belongings of a relative who has gone into a care home, my mom and dad came across a time capsule treasure: an undeveloped roll of film that was nearly forty years old. I love old family pictures; as the youngest of thirteen I wasn't around for, or don't remember, a good part of our family history. By this time I was sure I had seen all the family pictures there were to see, so these photographs were a delightful surprise.
All of us "kids" are over forty now, and our parents are in their eighties. A few months ago, during a conversation about family members growing older, one of my sisters mentioned that as we age we are actually growing younger, because we are (hopefully) nearing the ageless joy of eternity with God. When I look at the photograph below, in which my father was only about 7 or 8 years older than I am now, I am reminded that old age, infirmity, and sorrow do not have the last word. As long as we are growing closer to Christ, we are growing closer to beauty, innocence, strength and youth. These are not merely images of old times past - they are also an image and foretaste of Heaven.
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A few weeks ago, in sorting through the belongings of a relative who has gone into a care home, my mom and dad came across a time capsule treasure: an undeveloped roll of film that was nearly forty years old. I love old family pictures; as the youngest of thirteen I wasn't around for, or don't remember, a good part of our family history. By this time I was sure I had seen all the family pictures there were to see, so these photographs were a delightful surprise. 
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