“Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the whole world, from everlasting to everlasting, you are God.” Psalm 90:1-2 NIV
I remember the day that I declared it to the heavens and to the earth, “I will never be a saver like Mama!”
Never. Say. Never.
Growing up, everything extra went into the attic. Extra, not because we were rich with material things, but rather, because our family’s hearts had very long strings. And, it didn’t take much to set them into motion.
Needless to say, I inherited an attic stuffed with sentimental.
Cards from every occasion mingled in boxes with my first grade artwork and Daddy-O’s cracked (but very cool) Batman coffee mug.
You get my drift.
That day I was on a mission as I stepped into the great unknown with a handful of trash bags and a gut filled with anticipation.
Downsizing is not for the faint of heart for it is all about the heart.
I had no clue where to begin, so I picked up a small unmarked box and carried it to the top step, where I decided to rest my persistence.
I was greeted by three books that told three different stories, all of them beautiful.
On top was a tiny notebook of Daddy-O’s from World War 11. He had written lyrics about the war, something he never spoke about. I traced his wiggly script with my index finger, wondering what prompted him to pen those words on that day. I sat there in the silence, thanking God for a glimpse into his young-soldier soul, wishing for answers that won’t be given this side of heaven.
My emotions shifted when I pulled out the next surprise, a “how-to-sew” book with Mama’s initials and a plus sign…as in “I like you” + sign…with two other initials were not my Dad’s! I giggled thinking of my ultra-private-not-yet-my-mom-Mom sitting in her high school Home Ec class, giddy about her crush. That visual reminded me that she was also a girl, a woman, a dreamer, a romantic, a human with hopes and heartbreaks and so much more.
Just like me.
I recognized the last treasure right off the bat. It was my very first Bible, a red cowhide King James Version, given to me after I asked Jesus into my heart. I was only nine years old. That Bible marked the beginning of my redemption road called Grace. I cradled it, as memories flooded back like gentle rain on my favorite day. Then, I slowly flipped through its silky thin pages as “Jesus loves me, this I know” played softly in my head. It felt like love.
It still does.
That when I did what we sentimental folks do.
I put them back in the box, applied fresh tape to the top, and stored it away.
My first day of downsizing wasn’t very successful, but my grateful was off the charts, y’all.
Grateful reminds us what really matters.
I am grateful for my sentimental saver Mama.
I am grateful for those veryyy long heartstrings that sing my story.
I am grateful, hallelujah grateful, for the One who saved my soul.
Jesus loves me, this I still know.
He loves you too, beloved.
May your Thanksgiving be gloriously grateful. XOXO
Spread your joy,