It's funny how everyday things that don't have any sentimental meaning can unexpectedly become catalysts of nostalgia. The other morning, when I was puttering around in my usual routine and running around to take quick photos for my silly blog on multi-tasking, I suddenly laid eyes on this soap decanter that always sat in Betty's kitchen and the little carved flowers that Vern made which I had plunked inside. Of all the hundreds of times that I see them each week, why did it stop me in my tracks that day? How many times had I stood at that sink in Fossil doing dishes after a big family meal, enjoying a conversation with Betty? Did I realize then how lovely that time was? Remember when Vern came home from AZ after learning how to carve those flowers and how he made some for everyone? It was like he had bars of gold in his pocket to share; and they always brought a smile to the receiver's lips. The same jolt happened again a few minutes later when I opened the fridge and spotted the jar of iced suntea I had made the day before. Remember how Betty took a gallon of it to work everyday during the summer for the "fellas"? It was the only tea Vern would ever drink and it somehow epitomized the essense of summer.
It felt like Betty and Vern were standing beside me. These were such little things in their lives, yet they now mean so much to me. Maybe not so much the actual items as the memories they evoke. Somehow, it is those little memories that launch me back to meaningful moments in my life and, for a precious few minutes, shorten the gap between heaven and earth, now and hereafter. As human beings we seem to work hard to accomplish and accumulate things, big, important things; but I am learning that it is the small things we do that may matter most when we are gone. Did we smile enough, hug enough, or share enough tea with our friends and family? Did we laugh? Did we find joy? Did we give joy? Did we use our gifts to make someone else happy? What little things will hold our essence for those we leave behind? And will it make them smile?
It's funny how everyday things that don't have any sentimental meaning can unexpectedly become catalysts of nostalgia. The other morning, when I was puttering around in my usual routine and running around to take quick photos for my silly blog on multi-tasking, I suddenly laid eyes on this soap decanter that always sat in Betty's kitchen and the little carved flowers that Vern made which I had plunked inside. Of all the hundreds of times that I see them each week, why did it stop me in my tracks that day? How many times had I stood at that sink in Fossil doing dishes after a big family meal, enjoying a conversation with Betty? Did I realize then how lovely that time was? Remember when Vern came home from AZ after learning how to carve those flowers and how he made some for everyone? It was like he had bars of gold in his pocket to share; and they always brought a smile to the receiver's lips. The same jolt happened again a few minutes later when I opened the fridge and spotted the jar of iced suntea I had made the day before. Remember how Betty took a gallon of it to work everyday during the summer for the "fellas"? It was the only tea Vern would ever drink and it somehow epitomized the essense of summer. 
It felt like Betty and Vern were standing beside me. These were such little things in their lives, yet they now mean so much to me. Maybe not so much the actual items as the memories they evoke. Somehow, it is those little memories that launch me back to meaningful moments in my life and, for a precious few minutes, shorten the gap between heaven and earth, now and hereafter. As human beings we seem to work hard to accomplish and accumulate things, big, important things; but I am learning that it is the small things we do that may matter most when we are gone. Did we smile enough, hug enough, or share enough tea with our friends and family? Did we laugh? Did we find joy? Did we give joy? Did we use our gifts to make someone else happy? What little things will hold our essence for those we leave behind? And will it make them smile?
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