My brothers and family members and I are starting to work on cleaning out Mom and Dad’s house. One of my sons and his family are living there still, which has been a sweet blessing. But they hope to buy their own home sometime next year.
So, with the added motivation of a free city curbside pick up day, we gathered to begin the sift through the artifacts of family life lived under the roof that Mom and Dad watched being built just for them in a new suburb development, more than half a century ago.
As we sorted through boxes and shelves in the basement some things were released with little or no remorse. Others brought memories and misty tears. Some things we didn’t need but couldn’t part with.
I rejoiced when the younger generation stepped in and asked for things they could use. And especially when they wanted the little things that were bound up with memories of times spent with grandparents.
I brought home boxes of photos that span multiple generations. I cried when I found an album with photos of my daddy and his siblings as children and Grandma and Grandpa looking so young.
I found pictures of my own childhood, too. What a tender mercy to recall the joys of those times and the days when Mama and Daddy seemed invincible and could solve all my problems.
What a comfort to remember now that our Heavenly Father is with us and always watching over us and that Jesus is preparing a place for us.
And some day all who trust in Him will be Home for eternity. And the circle will be unbroken again.