Thirty Five

Maybe it tugged hard at my heart strings because my firstborn is recently married, my youngest is independent, ready to make her mark on the world, and I’m well. . . older.

We are definitely not the same people we were then. My husband’s beard and hair have turned a beautiful silver. My hair is salting more than I care to show. Life is moving on and I am absolutely thrilled about the stage of life we are in, and what our amazing God has in store. However, memories of decades gone by played like a silent film in my mind. They triggered so much emotion.

In celebration of 35 years of marriage, we decided to take a trip back to a little town we used to live in on the central coast of California. Every place I looked held a memory. My firstborn was almost three when we moved there. It’s where my second daughter was born, and we lived in four different houses. Our choice by the way. This was the place where my husband excelled in his military career and where my mother spent the last months of her life.

Memories were everywhere.

There were memories triggered by every street we drove down. Memories of my little girls walking and running down those streets and playing in the parks. Memories of everything we loved about each house we lived in. Memories of restaurants we dined in. Memories of the small church we planted with just our family and two other people who wanted to see a move of God. Memories of the friendships we built and still hold dear from that precious church. Tears started flowing and I wondered. . . why? Why is this place having such an effect on me, decades later?

I think it’s because I had forgotten the depth of what we experienced there.

In the book of Joshua Chapter four, God told Joshua to have the priests who carried the ark set memorial stones in the Jordan river after they crossed. It was to remind them, and future generations of the miraculous way God parted the river for them to cross into their promised land. He didn’t want his people to lose the depth of the miracle he provided. My memories stirred during our trip are a memorial, of sorts. Certainly not of the magnitude of crossing the Jordan, but they reminded me of the good things the Lord has done and the not-so-good he brought us through.

It’s always a good thing to remember what God has done. It’s good to remember the blessings, the triumphs, the battles won. Those memories help carry us through difficult times and remind us that if God did it before, he can do it again. They encourage us and help us stay firmly planted. That’s why God often wanted his people to set up a memorial. I hope you have memorials of the wonderful ways God has enriched your life, whether they are written, or stored in your heart and mind. I am very grateful for a most nostalgic 35th-anniversary trip. I didn’t know it would stir up so many precious memories. I’m thrilled it did!