Things remembered.

Today I left work early to meet Ron for an appointment he had. We couldn't decide where to have dinner afterward, but Ron finally thought of a place and I followed his truck as we began driving through familiar territory - the town where I grew up. Everything looked so different, but I still remember when the quiet two lane road we lived on became a four lane main thoroughfare. Eventually, we passed the house I grew up in.
A large white colonial home with a u-shaped driveway and the covered breeezeway dad had built from the ground up which connected the side door of the house to the oversized two car garage, it didn't look quite the same. There were no welcoming lights in the window - it was getting dark, but the family who now lives there was probably still scattered about at their jobs, or school, or errands. My mom was a stay at home mom so she always put the lights on at the first sign of darkness so that Dad, or us kids, wouldn't come home to a dark house. Of course when mom was home, the house was NEVER dark - lights or not - because she was the sunshine in our family.
I noticed a basketball hoop on a pole on the lawn in front of the garage so I guess there are children - or maybe teenagers - living there.
Going 50 mph on a busy 4 lane highway requires any sightseeing to be, at most, a quick glance as you drive by. But the things remembered in that glance can be so wonderful - and bittersweet. I remember the last time Ron and I and Scott were there. Mom and Dad were all but totally packed for their move to Florida, and as I went from room to room ( the bedroom where I had slept for all the years of my childhood, my parents' bedroom with the heavy mahogany bedroom set, the bathroom where my mom gave us countless baths, scrubbing our dirty knees and elbows and faces). There was the kitchen, and the family room (we used to call it the breakfast room because mom and dad put the kitchen table out there so we could sit in the warm sunshine as we ate our breakfast and watched mom make our lunches at the kitchen counter. Eventually the table went back out to the kitchen and the room became a family room of sorts where mom and dad had their before dinner drink after dad got home from work every evening. I remember walking out of the house for the last time...not wanting to leave this place that had been home to me since I was a year old.
I think it's probably how Laurie felt when she walked out the door for basic training - a hard step for us, not knowing then just how much our lives would change. Nearly 9 years later, how blessed we have been through it all. I pray that during all the time that she has been away - especially when she was in the sand - that she has been able to think of home and been comforted with the things she remembers.
In 2000, Scott left home as well as he found his first apartment. It was time and it was exciting for him, but it was difficult at the same time
For Ron and I it meant an empty nest.
My friend at work said to me the other day that things seem so different now - her sons are now both in college - the holidays are just not the same.
I can identify, can you?
But things remembered - makes you want to keep up the traditions - or begin new ones. In a couple of years, if God's plan is in accordance to ours, Ron and I will walk out of this house where our own children spent their childhood and begin a new life in a new place. This house - which has been "home" for so long - will perhaps someday be the destination of an afternoon drive for our own children.
And I wonder...what will they tell their children...what will be their things remembered?
Wishing you peaceful days of preparation for God's Son.
Sue