I tend to hang on to things.
This could be why I have at least five huge Rubbermaid bins full of my children’s baby clothes, in sizes up to…their age right now.
I like to remember how cute they looked in those favorite outfits, I tell myself. Someday, maybe they’ll want to use those “retro” clothes for their kids, I tell myself.
In reality, they’ll probably have to do a massive yard sale, like we just did with my parents.
It’s easy to form emotional, sentimental attachments to things. After all, we have so many memories attached to them.
But the things we really remember don’t need photos, or leftover clothing. Those memories of playing in the swimming holes, or our Senior class trip, or even our honeymoons.
They’re engraved in our minds.
When I was a teen, I watched my dad’s newly renovated doctor’s office burn to the ground, just down the road from us. The well-fed flames licked the sky, greedy for more. They ate the cedar siding, the insides…everything.
Since then, I’ve hated fires. I’ve been praying so hard for everyone in Colorado–everyone who will lose those precious things that filled their homes. Everyone who will feel displaced and alone. Everyone who will wonder if God was watching or caring.
He was and He still is. And He knows what you’re suffering.
It was only after I grew up that I realized the rest of the story of my Dad’s office. The hot-water heater literally blew up and melted into the ground. But everyone had just gone home for the day. God spared anyone from dying that evening.
And I believe He’s done that in Colorado.
It’s the people who matter, not the clothes, or the things. The people carry the memories. The people can live to see another day and glorify God, even in the middle of suffering.
I pray we can all do this better this week, and this year. Cling less tightly to our things. Hold more tightly to our God, and our families.
God bless you all.