Looking Back

I haven't worked on the last chapter for this week in Me, Myself, and Lies yet, and I decided to take advantage of the quiet morning before the busy day ahead and crack open the book so I would be 'caught up' for at least today.  Tomorrow begins the last week of the OBS and a new set of reading assignments.

I am writing after reading just the first page of Chapter 8, page 133, because once again, He seems to know just what I need to read, when I need to read it.  At the bottom of this page I found these words penned by Jennifer:

"Sometimes when we look back, we want to celebrate because we've come so far.  At other times our backward glances bring tears of longing, pain, regret, or loss.  Reviewing our milestones give us a chance to mark progreee and keep on the right path.  It affords an opportunity to remember."

This hit me hard this morning.

Why?

Because this week will be the last time that all of us are at Mom and Dad's house together.  This is the last time both of the girls will be with us.  This is the last time they can share memories of 'this is where Grandpa Norm sat with us on the bench in the backyard' and 'remember when Grandpa sat here and his feet were always pointed in' and 'this is where he gave us our dulcimers and he was so happy.' 

This part has been bothering me too.  No, I never lived in that house.  In 1973 Mom and Dad left Mt. Vernon and moved to Wooster so Dad could take a new position at Diamonite in Shreve.  I had just graduated from Indiana State University and had signed my first teaching contract with West Central School Corporation in Francesville, Indiana so I did not move with them.  For a few weeks while I was in limbo, I stayed there, but I moved to Monticello in early August and never returned.  It's not like I had actually lived in that house, but there are still memories.

Just looking around at the dining room and kitchen and remembering when Gary and I re-painted and added the new border.  Looking at the curtains that I made for Dad's bedroom.  Remembering the struggle of painting the bathroom walls and Dad trying to help me.  Thinking of the times in the back yard with the girls when they were little.  Dad's last birthday party in the front yard where we were all laughing, enjoying the warm weather, playing cornhole, waving at passers-by.  Seeing Dad in the garage, puttering around or looking out the kitchen window to see the barn door open and Dad working on yet another project.

But there are also the more recent memories of Mom yelling at us, sitting in the living room with all of the drapes closed and a trash bag taped over the front door windows because she was scared people would be standing on the porch, peering in at her.  Memories of the clutter around the ugly chair in the living room, the stacks of envelopes and other papers around the dining room table, the middle bedroom that could not be accessed because of the stacks and stacks of important things she had stored in it.  The cobwebs.  The musty smell.  The warped doors on the cabinets that were full beyond capacity with more and more things she used everyday and just could not part with.  There are memories of Dad sitting in the ugly chair, so forlorn, shaking his head, and listening to Mom in the kitchen yelling about how she was to 'do her chores' first, then have fun, and yes she had to vacuum and dust and do the laundry each and every day before she could take a drive to Lowe's with Dad and grab a bite to eat at Wendy's.

I haven't read the chapter yet, but I will on the drive to Wooster later today.  I hope that I have the ability to focus on the good times, the fun things that happened in that house, great memories of Dad and the enjoyment he got from playing with the girls when they were little.  I hope I can remember the first talks he had with Blaine in the garage and the time he took Matt downstairs for a talk and told Megan later that he approved.

As I flip through the chapter to the questions at the end, I know this will a chapter I must read this week. 

Is your thought closet full of memories that control you? Ask God's spirit to help you control those memories.

I will be doing just that.