What this amounts to, I suppose, is a weak manifesto against blogging, or perhaps nothing but self-justification for my own failure to preserve my children's lives in word and image. Only a weak manifesto, however: I need something to read as I procrastinate writing my column, after all. And I don't want to make the 23rd century's Laurel Thatcher UIrich cry in despair over the scarcity of source material.
More than that, though, it's a notion of faith that has little to do with believing the right things, and much more to do with paying attention to the right things. Paying attention to the now, trusting that the now of the future will be a gift as full, as precious, as particular as the now of today. This, too, is a spiritual gift. (And I just blogged about it.)