Nothing Left But a Memory

I awoke this morning to news from a friend about our old high school and church; the entire building collapsed due to heavy snow. The building also housed the Bible school that I attended, which is where I met my husband. We were married in that church over 25 years ago as were all three of my sisters. I looked the building up on the Alaska news channel and to my surprise the only thing remaining was a pile of rubble. So many memories were made in that building that now lay in ruins.

Ironic, the timing of this event, as it has given me words to what I have been feeling in my own life; although time is not a respecter of person, and change is inevitable, we must hold onto those memories that have helped knit us into the person that we are today. When all we have to hold onto is a memory, we must protect the memory, as we reflect back and see God’s fingerprints in each chapter of our lives.

Time has a wonderful way of helping us remember moments that we hold dear, while in actuality, the moments may have been very difficult or painful. The lessons gleaned in the thrust of life’s battles are invaluable; battle scars serve as reminders that we will never be the same having gone through the battle. In difficult times, we remember most clearly the deep feelings of the circumstance more than the actual circumstance. Did we feel loved, did we feel abandoned, did we feel cared for, did we feel despair, hope, love, etc.?

Mixed with the memory of the moment is the beauty of watching our own lives unfold as we look back and see how the pain and joy of life has impacted the condition of our own hearts. Somehow we make it through the deepest valleys to the peaks of mountains time and again; holding onto the memories of our journey. In time, our experiences and memories may be pulled to share with another who is experiencing a similar situation. Other times, the memories are ours alone to keep tucked away for our own growth.

There is nothing to prove and nothing to change from past events in our lives; each day is given but once and then it is gone. There are no guarantees, no return policies and no refunds on this tangible existence that we call life.

May God’s grace and love continue to carry us through each new day.

Just as my old church lies in an unidentifiable pile of rubble, one day we, too, shall return to dust. One day, when we are nothing more than a memory, may it be said of us that our lives were lived selflessly, full of love, in total obedience to our Father, bringing honor and glory to His name.

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote