The Remembrance of Things Past … and How Fond Memories Bring Joy
A threadbare, aqua-colored polka-dot apron. A faded movie theater ticket stub for Avatar in 3D. Two cotton rope bracelets. A program for a multi-day jazz festival. A small suede drawstring handbag with fringe on it.
What do all these things have in common? These items were found when I embarked on a house-wide reorganization/de-cluttering extravaganza. And upon the exhumation of each treasure from its cardboard- box coffin in the Land of Forgotten Stuff --- a/k/a the spare bedroom closet --- I became suffused with joy upon remembering the thing or event it represented:
The apron = grandmother’s pot-roast Sunday dinners for the family.
The ticket stub = a magical cinema event with my daughter.
The rope bracelets = a silly “friendship” memento from one of my first dates with the man who has now been my husband for more than 33 years.
The program = two days of fresh air, relaxation, and fabulous music.
The handbag = a final gift from my grandmother as she journeyed through terminal illness.
Treasured belongings can be a catalyst for feeling joy.
We all have treasures that we keep and display in our homes. As a reformed pack rat I may have a little more than some folks, but these items bring me pleasure and make my home comfortable and personal --- they are a little window into what makes me “me.” So as not to junk up my small house as frequently as I did in the past, however, I’ve taken to making photographs of many things so as not to have to keep the actual object that was making me happy or reminding me of happy times. My husband suggested this method when he balked at keeping my two (rusted and fairly decrepit) childhood bicycles in our garage. I protested: “But it’s my hot pink, 5-speed bicycle!!! You don’t understand. It was special.” He calmly pointed out that neither bicycle was mechanically safe, and I was not currently a cyclist due to some vertigo issues. He suggested taking photographs so that I could see the images of them and remember all the good times. This idea made sense to me and I have since tried to memorialize some possessions this way before I dispose of them.
But there are some things for which a photograph just won’t work. Take the little drawstring purse. It was approximately 1969 (and I was 10 years old) when I espied this massively groovy hippie handbag while browsing the local “five and dime” store, my allowance money burning a hole in my pocket. I was drawn by the tan and turquoise checkerboard design… and oh that fringe!!! I stroked the velvety suede and fell in love. But, alas, the totality of my saved allowance was nowhere near the cost of the purse. Genuine suede leather! I was crushed. I started imagining ways to earn more money, but then realized with great angst that there was only one such purse in the store and someone else might also be snared by its grooviness before I could return to purchase it. I quickly jammed the bag behind and underneath all the other purses in the display and hoped that it would not be discovered. Upon returning home, I pleaded with my mom about the purse. But I was just 10 years old --- what need did I have for a “real” handbag? My mom was not moved by my plight.
But my grandmother heard me. My grandmother, who was living with us while she convalesced from a surgery that she would never actually recover from. The grandmother who had been cold and aloof toward me for my entire life. I was too young to know that her illness was terminal; I thought her presence in our home was temporary so that Mom could take care of her while her surgical wound required re-bandaging. I had no expectation that Grandma was interested in any facet of my life. She had never paid attention to me and appeared uncomfortable when she was required to interact with me. But that day she heard the yearning in my voice and she understood the panic I felt that the purse might be bought by someone else before I could earn enough money to purchase it. Grandma took my mom aside and gave her money with instructions that I was to use it to buy the handbag as an “early Christmas gift” from Grandma. Funds in hand, I practically flew back to the store, my heart beating in dread that the bag would not be there. I dug through all the stacked purses and ---voila!--- it was still there. I literally cried with joy.
I remember that joy. It was a giddy feeling, like I’d won the lottery. But now, as an adult with a bit more maturity, I see this as a much greater gift than just “an early Christmas present” from a woman who would not live to see Christmas. I see this as a way my Grandmother, who surely knew her life was slipping away, sought to connect with a granddaughter whom she loved in her own way, but to whom she could never figure out how to express it. This one gift made me feel that my grandmother saw me and cared about making me happy. This one gift healed a relationship between grandmother and grandchild, and the remembrance of this loving gesture brings me joy every time I hold this soft little bag.
Why we need an “Ebenezer.”
Remembrance of things past can provide a deep sense of love and security. In Bible times people took care to appreciate a moment of significance and would erect a stack of stones to commemorate a location or an event. In 1 Samuel chapter 7 we see that the Israelites were being attacked by the Philistines. God entered the battle, subdued the Philistines, and saved the Israelites. “Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying ‘Thus far has the Lord helped us.’” (v.12) And when the Israelites were first crossing into the promised land after their 40 year desert journey, the priests carried the ark of the covenant of the Lord and placed it in the middle of the Jordan and the entire nation crossed the river Jordan on dry ground. When they all had reached the other side, Joshua commanded that 12 men (representing the 12 tribes of Israel) go to the dry riverbed in front of the ark and take up a stone. These stones were then assembled on the other side as a memorial of how the Lord had provided a safe crossing. “ ‘In the future, when your children ask you, “What do these stones mean?” tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.’” (Joshua 4:4-7)
When you imagine the feelings of abiding joy and security and love that result from being led across a river on dry ground or being rescued from a marauding army, you can appreciate why God wants a solid, visible reminder of these events. Oral story-telling or written accounts are wonderful, but sometimes the event is of such magnitude that a physical monument is necessary. We need to stack up some stones.
And so sometimes, in spite of my new regimen of “tidying up” a la Marie Kondo, or my intent to de-clutter so as to bring order to chaos, I find that I simply must retain some items as a monument to something joyful. With a story of remembrance, I can pass down to the next generation some message of love or care or miracles.
Memory provides the continuity of life.
I’ve heard it said that ---due to the never-ending work of our bodies to repair and periodically replace every cell --- none of us is actually the “same” person we were in days past. Every 18 years or so we are, literally, not of the same substance as when we entered this world. Brand new cells make up our physical bodies. The only thing that provides the continuity of our existence is the pattern of electrical impulses in our brains that allows us to remember.
My husband has a very large family and we recently gathered to commemorate what would have been his mom’s 100th birthday. It was a celebration of remembrance and joy as we marveled at the lives of her 7 children and all the grandkids, great-grandkids, and great-great grands. The highlight of the evening was when a nephew presented a long-lost video of the 1988 family Thanksgiving festivities. Even though the film was grainy and faded, we all were moved at seeing Mom and some other elderly relatives who are no longer with us. Mom was playfully testifying about the goodness of God and how happy it made her to see how her family had been blessed. She ended by declaring how proud she was of all her children. Tears of joy were shed when everyone saw and heard “momma.” The members of the younger generation were so grateful to see their Grandma when she was younger and not hampered by post-stroke language and mobility difficulties. Some remarked that they had not really ever heard her voice like that or seen her mannerisms. They were blessed by the video memory. It was a little miracle for them.
Remembering brings joy
So make sure to not only keep videos and photographs --- but sit down and look at them and tell your family stories about what was happening or what you remember. Keep a diary. Use a gratitude journal. Collections or keepsakes are also helpful ways to remember. Make sure photographs and souvenirs are labeled for the younger folks so they can know why the items are significant.
What methods can you use to ensure remembrance?
Has the Lord helped you thus far? Could an “Ebenezer” be meaningful to you and your family?
If you’re of the Pinterest persuasion, is there an artful way you can create your own version of stacked stones?