26 years

A few snapshots from 1985.  I think snapshots were a lot more candid pre-digital cameras.  Even if the shots weren't well-composed, with everyone smiling perfectly, we kept the images because they served their intended purpose-- to help us remember times past-- and perhaps they are more authentic than the shots today that we take and take and take until everyone's eyes are open, looking at the camera, with smiles coaxed even from the grumpiest of subjects.

I love the two family groupings seen here-- the one of my mom in her red robe, just days after her fourth child was born, with all of us snuggled up next to her and our new baby brother and my dad lounging behind on the couch.  My mom was (and still is) so beautiful and loving and the perfect, nurturing mother.

I also like the shot in the bottom right corner of all of us on the sand trap on the 4th hold of Gleneagle Golf Course in Colorado Springs, right our back door.  The idyllic picture of young, happy, healthy family who had just moved into their new two-story house on a golf course, with a sports car out front, and a three-car garage that would soon house a ski-boat that would be taken to the private lake on weekends with friends.  This was the calm before the storm-- one year before Anthony would be diagnosed with neuroblastoma, after which he would only live another 10 months.  Anthony died on February 25, 1987.  Although I was only 8 years old at the time, that event and the way my parents endured the most heart-wrenching of trials-- the death of a child-- was the most significant experience of my childhood.  In short, Anthony's brief life taught our family that this earthly experience is a mere blip on the timeline of eternity, and that the choices we make here and now will determine the course for the rest of our eternal lives.  He taught us that it is not the houses or the cars or the boats that bring fulfillment, but loving family relationships and ultimately our relationship with God, our Father, and his Son, Jesus Christ.