Echoes from the Past
Related Categories: Grief,Encouragement
I laid in bed this morning thinking through the next week and tried to determine how to fulfill all the tasks on my to do list. To accomplish my goals, I had to stay focused on my responsibilities. God smiled at my thoughts for He had other plans.
My wonderful husband Chuck asked me where all of our old pictures are. He had read something online about the need to preserve them. Because of our life journey, our old pictures are priceless. We lose them, we lose many evidences of our son, Mark. Browse the walls of our home and you will see many family pictures that record our lives. At some point, you might notice that after July, 1993, one person is absent, and that Mark is frozen in time as a sixteen-year-old boy. Every picture of him is a treasure. Sometimes I wish I could put out a notice to all of his high school friends that if they find pictures of Mark in their elementary and high school memorabilia that instead of throwing them out, would they please send them to us.
But I digress from my original thoughts. Chuck didn't know that a few years ago, when our daughter was into scrapbooking, I organized all of our old pictures by child and topic. Since my desk is always a picture of chaos, I was proud to inform him that I had all the old pictures safely stowed in boxes in my office closet. I pulled out the crates and called down, "Chuck, if you want to be overwhelmed, here they are."
I couldn't resist. Old albums that pre-dated our marriage drew me in. Along with old pictures that reminded us of our dating years and engagement, were ticket stubs from every University of Delaware football game we attended. Dried flowers and our wedding invitation took us back forty years to a season of innocence and anticipation of how we were going to change the world for Jesus.
The clock was ticking and nothing on my to do list could be erased. But still I pulled out pictures. Chuck went downstairs to look for more albums as I rummaged through boxes of Mark's belongings, carefully packed away over fifteen years ago. I found a metal box, labeled "My Stuff." In it was a silver bangle bracelet. Another time I will share the significance of this treasure of encouragement. I caressed the pirate bandana Mark wore with his raggedy jeans and leather boots and tried to recapture his scent, long gone. A treasure trove of pictures of Mark's growing up years broke the walls of emotion that I usually successfully hold in check. I whispered, "This isn't right. None of this is right. I want my son now. What would he be like as a grown up, a husband, a dad? What about his kids, our grandchildren? Oh, Jesus, help me trust you and thank you for the life we had with Mark rather than stay in my buried grief."
Instead of gratitude for the sixteen years, all I could see was loss. God answered by reminding me of the little hymn written by J.B. F. Wright in 1877. It's the same song He placed in my heart during our Cousins Camp last week as I observed our grandkids making memories that will last a lifetime. And today this little song is God's treasure of encouragement, written and designed by Him over 100 years ago as a treasure just for me. Instead of staying in my sorrow today, may I open my hands and heart to this gift sent to turn my heart toward my Father. May I rest in God's sovereign plan for our lives as well as Mark's. And may any grieving sister reading this take hope and courage from her precious memories as well.
Precious mem'ries, unseen angels Sent from somewhere to my soul How they linger, ever near me And the sacred past unfold.
Precious father, loving mother Fly across the lonely years And old home scenes of my childhood In fond memory appear.
In the stillness of the midnight Echoes from the past I hear Old-time singing, gladness bringing From that lovely land somewhere.
I remember mother praying Father, too, on bended knee Sun is sinking, shadows falling But their pray'rs still follow me.
As I travel on life's pathway Know not what the years may hold As I ponder, hope grows fonder Precious mem'ries flood my soul.
CHORUS:
Precious mem'ries, how they linger How they ever flood my soul In the stillness of the midnight Precious, sacred scenes unfold.
And now, I MUST tackle that to do list!
In His Grip,
Sharon
I am always encouraged by the things you write. It has been 4 years now since we lost our Adam in a tragic car accident (Dec 9, 2005) as you lost your Mark. I have emailed you before and your return email remains on my computer and in my journal to read again and again. One thing I have found to be so true. You told me that you wished you could pick me up and take me years ahead in my grief, but that would not allow me to find all the treasures God has for me in this darkest part of my life. My dear sister, four years later, I can attest to how true that statement is. God is my constant companion. I have learned things about my Lord that I would never have learned without my great loss. I have a much firmer grasp on His unfailing love and the mercy He bestows in His children. I lived in your book, "Treasures in the Darkness for the first 2 years after we lost Adam and it stays on my desk to this day. Top of the stack. How many times I return for your words of wisdom. I just discovered your blog and have once again felt your encouragement. The notes about Christmas ring so true for me also. No stockings have been hung since our loss. It is too painful. Christmas was my favorite season and now it is just a time of year to endure and survive through. In this blog you talk about the sorrow that remains in your home, but how joy has taken up permanent residence. I find this to be so true. I am still trying to mesh my great sorrow and the joy God fills me with together. How can they both dwell in the same place. I have learned that sorrow stretches our hearts leaving a greater capacity for joy. My sorrow is deep, but my capacity for joy runs even deeper. Thank you, thank you for being my Barnabas during this season of my life.
In deep appreciation!
Mary Jo