A righteous (woman) will be remembered forever.
Psalm 112:6
It sits in the back of my closet as stoic as Buckingham's guard. Armored in plastic. Dressed in ordinary. Dutiful always. But it beckons tears, laughter and sighs. Its' formal name is Memory Bin but you can just call him Morrie.
This weekend we remember.
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| Some of Morrie's Treasures: 1. Carynne's Pirate Hand - Age 3 2. Clara's Button Cross - Age 3 3. Hayleigh's self-portrait - Age 7 4. Hannah as a Snowman - Age 7 |
We recount the smell of Grandma's cookies and Grandpa's tough, quiet demeanor.
Inside Morrie lie treasures that hold no meaning for you but spell delight for me. They are unique, personal valuables. Some treasures, though, can not be held in any thing. They are tucked in the folds of our hearts.
The burst of a raspberry on my tongue ushers me away to the magical spaces of my grandparent's kitchen.
The sound of an organ floats me to the top of their stairs.
A glimpse of a Scrabble board implores me to join them in the parlor.
Someday I will be gone. Nothing can alter that reality. What remains may get tucked into a box named Morrie or Mary but the real treasure takes no space in the attic. It's home is in the heart.
As I celebrate Memorial Day weekend, I want to stitch some more ordinary into the fabric of my home. I want to exchange knowing looks with my husband, laugh with my children and drink in the weekend one hour at the time.
This weekend will be one to remember.
