Early this morning, I dragged from slumber thinking about ... garbage bags. And clutter. And Thoreau. You see, last week we moved my mother-in-love to an assisted living facility. Very nice place, I might add. "Nursing homes" are out and sleek new apartment-like "assisted living" places are in.
But Mom has quickly discovered, even though she left a big jumble of stuff behind, she must dispose of even more.
As I've spent a few days sorting and bagging and saving just a fraction of her accumulations, it is clear. There isn't one material thing on earth that will mean squat at the end of our lives.
As I read over these posts, I notice a common thread. What my children, grandchildren and whoever's left will remember is who I was to them - for better or worse.
Did I take time to read stories with them? Laugh at their jokes and listen to their stories? Discuss God and the mysteries of life? Did I teach them to ride a bike, make a bag lunch, and how to fly a kite? Did we swim, hike, pray, visit the library, and catch fireflies on summer evenings? Did I take them to a funeral so they could learn how to comfort a hurting friend? Did they see me hurt and feel and cry? Did I apologize when I lost my temper? Did I make our home a haven from the world? Did we play piano and sing together? Did I strive to treat them as well as I do my best friend?
If I was too busy for such things, then all the trinkets and heirlooms and even family photos won't amount to a hill of beans. In fact, they won't matter whether I did OR didn't invest in those I love.
And that's because the only thing we leave behind that really matters is ... you guessed it ... love.
1 comment:
True and thought-provoking, tender and loving....that's what you are.
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