As I prepare to move, I am trying to declutter first. No one warned me how emotional it might be to walk down Memory Lane. I stumbled across a box of items from a variety of eras: class photos from elementary school, the high school publication that I had written for, a piece of artwork that I had from one of the most famous Deaf Canadians that I would not met until much later in life, the poster for the movie that cracked open the Deaf world for many non-Deaf people, and letters from family and friends. I sometimes get lost in this process. Tears come. Feelings rise. I kept things from people I no longer recognize. Nonetheless, I am ever grateful for words or moments that come back to me as if it were yesterday.
I came across some postcards from my father when he traveled on union business. I was thrilled then and now. He is a man of few words and so these 4″ x 6″ items mean the world to me. At some point I will show them to him but I suspect that it might be more than his heart can manage right now…I know that my eyes leaked reading them. I found letters from my grandmother who was a faithful writer to her relatives out east. I found a note from an ex-boyfriend that brought a smile to my face. I found a card from someone who had been a friend and has changed so much now I do not really recognize him. I cared deeply for who he was, but not so much who he has become. That sent me chasing rabbits into the thicket in trying to figure out how and why situations can change so drastically for some of us and yet remain unfaltering for others.
I came across the scribblers that I used to write my mystery stories in and figure that they will be entertaining to read during this long, cold winter that is threatening to arrive. I came across a hilarious award from a peace organization that I interned with for a year which stated that I was best dressed on the volleyball court–which was a kind way of saying I was not a great player but at least I looked good! That made me remember how we would get together for beer and pretzels after the game at someone’s house. Those were fun times. I came across a thank you letter from the manager of the dorm where I lived in when I studied to become an interpreter and facilitated some communication for the Deaf students who lived there.
I love this journey back into time and how I see God’s fingerprints all over my life experiences. I have managed to let a good portion of it go and hold just the memory of it but some I will bring with me to the new place and dispose of it as I have time to read and sort through it properly, with the respect it deserves. God has been so very good to me and I am glad that I will have the opportunity to review my graced history with tangible evidence that God was at work, blessing me beyond my wildest desires.
What graced history brings a particular smile to your face right now?
What do you wish you had kept from your childhood?
As I examine my life, you are guilty, God, of leaving your fingerprint smudges everywhere. I see you in the blessings of friendships past and present. I hear you in the voice of cousin, father, aunt, sister, brother, friend, grandmother as they wrote their letters to me. I marvel at how from a very young age, the gift of writing was present. You touched it all and left your indelible mark on each moment in time. How can I thank you for this great gift? Amen.