Surely he shall not be moved for ever: the righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance. ≈ Psalm 112:6
Yesterday, when I called a business from the office telephone. After several long rings, a lady answered. I heard the hesitation in her voice. Sheer awe, as if she didn’t know what to say. So, I rushed on to identify myself and explain why I had called. Then she told me the reason for her reluctance.
“The number you called from… that showed up on the caller id is that of my mom and dad,” she said. “They’re gone. Both my parents are in heaven. So, I knew they couldn’t be calling me,” she added. So astonished, she asked me to tell her out loud the number that I was calling from. I did.
I told her that I understood and we shared pleasantries. Since I too, know what a nostalgic moment feels like. That sentimental longing for someone or something that is gone. An overflow that stirs the heart and fills the mind with joy, sadness, or pain. An occurrence that I have learn… to let it come… and let it go.
For God, doesn’t want us to live in the past. Though He allows us to keep our memories. Causing, nostalgic moments that can overwhelm. I’m not talking about gut wrenching, heartbreaking, life shattering moments. Where you just want to fade away. I’m not talking about teary-eyed, agonizing, debilitating feelings. When you first realize your love one is gone.
Nor, am I talking about… illusionary, often bittersweet memories of the good old days… that linger for days or even weeks. Those good old days that weren’t as good as our selective memory makes them out to be. Nor, am I talking about living in the past… refusing the present, or declining the future.
I’m talking about, the reality that God makes no mistakes and we must bow to His holy will. Yet, when we walk outside on a bright sunny day and the scent of lavender kisses us with a memory of a beloved one. When we’re tired and just want to survive the drive home. Then, flipping the radio dial, a late love one’s favorite song plays on the radio. When that nice old lady at the department store goes out of her way to help us exchange an item, without a receipt. And yes, her name tag says Dotty. Which just happens to be the name of our dear late granny. And, for a brief moment, we’re looking back through time. Thank God for memories.
Every now and again… often few and far between… when I smell a familiar scent of cinnamon, I’m overcome with nostalgia. With every whiff and sweet wispy wave of air. The sheer aroma, reminds me of sharing lunch and good conversation with my dear granddad. For, a brief instance, just a few seconds… I feel his presence… if only in my memories. Then I smile… just a nostalgic moment.
God Bless… I am Wiley’s granddaughter.