Down Memory Lane

For the last several years, a crack has been forming in the plaster ceiling above my desk in my office/junk room. Even though it has loomed ominously over my head, threatening to fall in at any minute, I have procrastinated getting it fixed. I dreaded the thought of having to clean out the accumulation of over thirty years of stuff that filled the bookshelves and floor of the room.

 But the crack was growing and I finally bit the bullet and scheduled the repair. With the drywall folks coming this week I waded in and began clearing out the room.

I feel like I have been on an episode of This is Your Life. I’ve gone through, and recycled, boxes of papers from my seminary days, cards and letters from the important and everyday events of my life, and journals and diaries dating back to my teen years. (Those I couldn’t bring myself to discard.)

Photo albums lined the shelves of an old pie safe. I’m not ready to get rid of them, so I moved them into the next room. Some held fuzzy black and white pictures from my childhood years and color pictures of slumber parties, beagle puppies and Christmas mornings. There were two albums of dances and football games with college friends and another of my semester in Venice, with postcards glued in of the many places I visited. I still had the album of pictures and notes that the sweet people of Highland Hills Baptist Church made for me when I left my job there to move to Birmingham in 1984.

There was our wedding album and endless pictures of Adam as a baby and little boy, bringing back memories of family trips, remodeling our old house, and swim meets.

But not all of the memories are happy. So many of my family members have passed away, and I’m sad that the big family dinners are a thing of the past.

Some of the pictures bring back times of struggle. As I look over my life, it’s easy to focus on what I wish I had handled differently — the unhealthy relationships that went on for too long, the times that I should have stood up for myself, the family events I missed because I put my job first. I think of all the decisions I made based on what I felt I ought to do, instead of listening to what my heart was telling me. The guilt can sometimes hit me at unexpected times.

I recently read a quote that reminds me that I need to let go of the guilt of the past:

Forgive yourself for not knowing earlier what only time could teach.

I’m sure we all have experiences in our lives that we wish we could go back and change. But I’m learning to forgive and have compassion for my younger self. She was grieving her sister’s death and trying to understand how a loving God could let that happen. She was working hard for approval and never felt quite good enough. She made mistakes. She muddled through even when she couldn’t see the road ahead.

All the ups and downs of my life have landed me where I am today, and it’s a good place. The constant throughout my life has been God’s presence, whether I was aware of it or not. This familiar poem captures my feelings.

Footprints in the Sand by Mary Stevenson

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one
set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most,
you have not been there for me?”

The Lord replied,
“The times when you have
seen only one set of footprints,
is when I carried you.”