The Joy of Remembering
Several years ago, my husband and I took a little trip to Menards. Now usually a meander through a man-store is not my idea of a fun-filled outing, but on that particular day, we were on a mission of great interest to a mother with an empty backyard. We were hoping to buy our children a swing set.
After much research, we had finally chosen a big wooden structure that seemed to fit our green space and far surpass our children’s needs. It was a beauty of a play set- gorgeous redwood, complete with a large fort, a swift slide, two swings, a glider, monkey bars, and a sandbox built for six. I imagined the kids’ shrieks of joy as they watched their daddy and grandpa assemble the amazing structure, and then the oddest thing happened.
I was making my way to the check-out counter via the power tools when all of a sudden I felt tears dripping down my cheeks. Surprised by my own emotion, I leaned against a large box and cried. As soon as he spotted me, my husband raced to my side. (If truth be told, I think he may have been a bit wooed by the whole situation. After all, isn’t it every man’s dream to have his wife moved to tears over a weed eater?) While my tears seemed out of place, the source of my outburst wasn’t the electric saw in aisle seven, but a Psalm- 77-moment.
You see, as I began to delight in the idea of my children enjoying our new swing set, I thought about other children around our world. And for just a moment, in my mind’s eye, I saw impoverished kids rolling old tires down dilapidated streets, sallow-skinned toddlers digging with sticks in the dirt, and rambunctious school children climbing on faulty wire fences meant to keep predators out of their barren playgrounds.
Though it sounds crazy, I was suddenly overwhelmed with my own children’s abundance. I was awed by our taken-for-granted-privilege of living in a neighborhood with green grass and safe homes and flower-lined sidewalks. And right there in Menards, a new sprout of joy popped up on our family tree! As I cried shamelessly amongst the power tools, I discovered the sure-fire power of remembering. When I REMEMBERED that neither I, nor my children, had done anything to DESERVE the luxury of our circumstances, the joy of our unmerited blessings was irrepressible.
You see, as I began to delight in the idea of my children enjoying our new swing set, I thought about other children around our world. And for just a moment, in my mind’s eye, I saw impoverished kids rolling old tires down dilapidated streets, sallow-skinned toddlers digging with sticks in the dirt, and rambunctious school children climbing on faulty wire fences meant to keep predators out of their barren playgrounds.
Though it sounds crazy, I was suddenly overwhelmed with my own children’s abundance. I was awed by our taken-for-granted-privilege of living in a neighborhood with green grass and safe homes and flower-lined sidewalks. And right there in Menards, a new sprout of joy popped up on our family tree! As I cried shamelessly amongst the power tools, I discovered the sure-fire power of remembering. When I REMEMBERED that neither I, nor my children, had done anything to DESERVE the luxury of our circumstances, the joy of our unmerited blessings was irrepressible.
Your family’s next crop of joy may not be harvested in the hardware store, but if you choose to be a family that remembers, you will discover that this sweet fruit of the Spirit flourishes in the most unexpected places! In the wise words of Alan Wright: The Christians who live the most abundant lives are those with the best memories ( A Chance at Childhood Again).
The Overflow: “I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”-Psalm 77:11-12
The Overflow: “I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”-Psalm 77:11-12
Thank you. Brought tears to my own eyes.