This past week I have been very emotional.  The littlest things set off the waterworks.  I always keep the saying "It's not the number of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away" in the back of my mind.  I ran across that personal "mantra" about 11 years ago when my little sister died at 16 years old in a car accident.  As I get older that saying has found it's way on plaques and artwork all over my house.

After a I would see the words, but lack the feeling beneath them.  This past trip to Sunriver I really felt that mantra again.  I am known for always hauling my camera around, always trying to capture each special moment. Many times I fail horribly.  I look back at the pictures and I didn't capture what I thought I had at all.  Every now and then I can snap a picture that is really meaningful.

A surprise waterfall. . . 

Drew flying past me as he expertly maneuvers his go kart....

Annika's laughter after playing freeze tag with a dozen 2nd cousins - all under the age of 8. . . . .

Christopher's consistent joy, regardless of his circumstances . . . .

It occurred to me today that as I have gotten older there are fewer and fewer moments that "take my breath away."  Have I become desensitized over the years, making what might have been breathtaking once long ago merely the daily grind now?  Or is it that I have been looking at life, just like the plaques around my house, seeing the actions but not feeling the emotions?  Maybe I have just given up on feeling breathless (except for when I try to work out). Who knows, maybe it is a mid-life crisis (augh!)

I suppose that my next goal should be to look at life through new eyes and see these precious moments for what they are, and allow myself to take a moment to feel how special they are.

For now my precious moments will be spend doing a kitchen full of dishes and laundry from our little trip.:)