My Father’s Memories

The day my Dad died, my sister and I combed through his belongings. He had liquidated most of his assets several years before, so there wasn’t much.

But we found some real treasures in his small two bedroom house near the gulf coast in Florida.

He hadn’t kept a whole lot of things, but what remained was precious to him.The MEMORIES that feel like MESSES now will be erased from the record books. (1)

There was some West Point memorabilia and several rolls worth of developed film from my graduation. The ties my sister gave him for every holiday. His pipe collection. A steel hand juicer we used to squeeze oranges for so many Saturday morning breakfasts. A few frayed ribbons from field days and writing competitions. Some yellowing photos of me with exactly the hair you would expect to see in the 80s and 90s. A pair of paintings bearing an ancestor’s signature. His motorcycle vest adorned with patches and pins from some of his favorites trips and causes. A single seashell from the trip he took with my family to St. Augustine.

The things he kept represented his best MEMORIES.

But it’s what was missing that’s most telling.

There was no evidence of my past mistakes. No proof that I’d ever messed anything up. If somebody else had sorted through his things they would have imagined me a model child, perfect in every way. They wouldn’t find a log of the night I missed curfew or the times I never even knew my parents caught me in a lie. There was no report card showing the D I earned in World History my freshman year at West Point. There was no documentation of the times I failed to call or write.

Absent was any archive of the many ways I’d fallen short as a daughter.

That is exactly how my Heavenly Father will see me. Not because I have never MESSED up, but because His Son was perfect. Not because He cannot remember, but because He chooses to cast them as far as the East is from the West for those who call on the name of His Son. Not because I have ever done anything right in my own flesh, but because His Son did everything righteously.

The MEMORIES that feel like MESSES now will be erased from the record books.

The #MEMORIES that feel like #MESSES now will be erased from the record books. Click To Tweet

So let’s commit to living like that now. Submitting our failures to the blood of Jesus. Grasping for the MEMORIES that remind us of our future with Him.

Embrace the MEMORIES that move you toward the cross and release those that hold you captive in the MESSES.

Embrace the #MEMORIES that move you toward the cross and release those that hold you captive in the #MESSES. Click To Tweet

Much like we did with that old juicer my sister and I decided to have joint custody of – keeping the juice and tossing the rinds – hang on to only what reminds you of the best MEMORIES.

Only the things our Heavenly Father remembers matter anyway.

For more encouragement please join the discussions on these fabulous blog link ups – Suzanne EllerThought Provoking Thursday, Susan B. Mead, Faith Filled Friday, Grace and TruthFaith and Fellowship FridayGrace and Truth Friday, Good Morning Monday, Soul SurvivalMonday Musings, Rah Rah Link Up, Tell His StoryWoman to Woman Wednesday, Women With Intention Wednesday, Sitting Among Friends, Word of God Speak, Testimony Tuesday.

11 thoughts on “My Father’s Memories

  1. Liz what treasured memories and love how you wrote down to earth real live events that your daddy and our Heavenly Father erase. I love the joint custody of the juicer. I have my Dad’s old pipe case and an old radio and several clocks and his desk. Treasured memories.

  2. How we process and grab onto memories is so close to me as I do this each day with my clients at MemoryMinders. The thought of releasing them at the cross is a great concept. Thanks for sharing! I will too

    1. Thanks, Jill! We spend a whole lot of time trying to remember, but some things are better left in the past so we can be free to move forward! Blessings!

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