Memory is a funny thing. Some of us have great memories, while others struggle with memory. I watched my mother in her last years, battling dementia, and struggling with short-term memory yet she could recall long-ago memories of childhood and early adulthood. Memories often evoke strong emotions, especially during the holidays.
Over the weekend, I spent some time with our ten-year-old granddaughter. We enjoyed some fun activities together and spent some time riding in the car, which is perfect for conversation. She voiced a few concerns about how her Grandpa doesn't seem to do much anymore; she remembered living in Fredericksburg and the fort and tree house he built. She remembered golf cart rides and other adventures around our property. When I told her I had few memories with my grandparents, she was quiet. One of my grandfathers had died before I was born, and the other three grands died the year I was ten. Her age. She pondered for a moment, then asked, "How do you know so much about them?"
My paternal grandmother lived about an hour's drive from us. That was quite the drive, unlike today where driving an hour is no big deal. The other two lived halfway across the country. They would travel by train to visit us once a year. I learned the most about my grandparents by listening to my parent's stories and memories. One story that I asked my Dad to tell me often was about their Christmas traditions. My Dad was the parent that I loved to celebrate with! I was his helper in putting up lights; in his OCD fashion, we would go out every night after work so that he could check to make sure none of the bulbs had burned out and that all was still in order. I still love putting up and looking at Christmas lights; it is a way of remembering my Dad. Christmas for him was quite different as a young boy. He was the first generation born in the states and lived in a small German community in Nebraska. There were no early decorations then. He recalled going to church on Christmas Eve, and when they returned, the tree would have been brought into their home, and they would light the candles on the tree after church. Christmas Eve was always a fond memory and family time for my Dad. A time for family and remembering.
I have so many memories of my parents. Mom lived to age 87, and Dad died at age 58 before I married or had children. I was only 22. My memories of my parents live on. Our daughter also didn't have much time with her grandparents, so I do my best to tell the stories. I know I repeat them often, and sometimes I think no one is listening. I was listening when my parents told stories. I would get bored with them and complain, "Can I go to my room now!?" I'm so thankful now that I heard those stories so many times.
Much of what we do at Christmas time is about memories. We remember, plan things to make memories, and carry on traditions with our families. I also know that not everyone has fond memories, so remembering can be hard. I choose to pass along some of the hard things too. I recall the last Christmas I saw my Dad. I had just finished basic training for the Air Force and was on a break before heading to technical school. When I got home, though I knew he was battling cancer, I was shocked at the shell of himself that he had become. I have just a few pictures of him that Christmas; he was so frail and thin. Not the strong man I remembered. We had a fun Christmas, and too soon, I was gone back to Illinois. Little did I know that I would never see him alive again when I left. I don't think about that last Christmas with him much. I choose to remember the previous 21 Christmases and all of the things that made them special with my Dad. I don't recall the hard ones, and there were some of those when things weren't perfect.
Sharing memories is important. After Moses had his encounter with God and received the Ten Commandments, he shared this word with the people:
.....And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to the commands that I am giving you today. Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up...... Deuteronomy 6:6-7 NLT
Another verse I cling to, and claim.
Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it. Proverbs 22:6 NLT
Sometimes we think that the memories we pass along are falling on deaf ears. The Truth we are sharing is not received. Share it anyway. Children may not be interested in hearing about the 'old days'. Tell them anyway. I didn't always want to hear my parent's Depression-era stories or about life on the farm in Iowa and Nebraska, but now I am so thankful that they always told me. It is sometimes hard to keep telling Jesus' story, when it seems like no one is listening, tell it anyway.
Challenge: Tell stories this Advent season. If you don't have children or grandchildren, share them with someone. Make sure your story and memories don't die with you. Challenge part two - listen. Find a friend or neighbor who may be alone and ask their story. Carry on their story for them. Everyone has memories. Let's all keep sharing them, so they aren't lost forever.
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