Slipping Away?

We managed to sneak away the other day and finally catch Momma Mia at the movies. If you liked the play you'll love the movie. If you don't don't love Abba, don't waste your money. Personally I can't pass up any chance to hear Dancing Queen. It's a little bawdy and risque' in parts, which keeps it from being a future "Family Night" with the kids kind of movie, and it's got a terrible message about marriage and commitment, but, hey - it's entertaining and that's what you go to the movies for.
Actually, the scene and song that moved me the most, was when the mother was helping her daughter get ready for the wedding and she sang "Slipping Through My Fingers." Wow. She reminisced about her little girl going off to school with her back pack on her shoulder, and remembering her coming to the breakfast table still half asleep, and so on - each time followed by the refrain - "Slipping Through My Fingers". At the end of the song she sang, "Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time."
I felt the sadness as I reflected on all the things I couldn't remember - and never would. The thousands of hugs from little arms, the glorious sound of happy children laughing, the precious smiles on the faces of our three special gifts from God. The stories, the quotes, the jokes, the songs, the bedtime prayers, the rocking chair pile-ons, the Bible questions with heads resting on Dad's stomach, and the million other things that have fallen to "the funny tricks of time."
Then I thought, maybe we've had it all wrong. We tend to think that we are molded from our never-forgotten-memories, but maybe it's all the little experiences - that weren't so outstanding but just a normal part of our life - maybe they are far more responsible for who and what we are. God's building blocks may not be the huge unforgettable events of our life, but the small, daily, constant doses of love - maybe they are what really count in the long run. Maybe we were never made by God to file away every tender memory any more than we were meant to see every nail that holds our house together. Still, they hold us up, keep us together, and give us more to be thankful for. After all, what's "Slipping through my fingers" is also allowing me to take hold of eternity.