I’ve been posting a lot lately about going through my Mom’s “stuff.” Mom was a saver– a pack rat– a hoarder, really. She kept boxes and piles of useless things. But she also kept things that have value to those she left behind. My siblings and I have found old photographs, momentos, letters, documents, etc., that bring the past alive again..not just our past, but our family roots going back generations.

What prompts us to keep such memories; to hold tightly to faded papers, worn objects, shadows of days gone by? Sometimes, it is an unhealthy focus on past memories– good and bad– that keep us in the grip of “glory days” or old and festering wounds. But there IS a value to keeping a record of the past.

When I was young, we had dozens of books around the house, including Bible Story books. The stories of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac, Moses, Samson and Samuel, King David, Queen Esther, Elijah, and then Jesus, his disciples, the Apostle Paul…they were mesmerizing– and very instructive! God didn’t just give us Ten Commandments and a list of rules to follow. He left us with a rich tapestry of stories of real people, and their very real adventures. He has given us Parables, and Psalms, Prophets and Promises– the Bible is a living book that speaks to each new generation with timeless truths. I learned about the Faithfulness of God, His Holiness, and His Mercy in those pages.

The stories and photos that get passed down in families can also be instructive. I now have a baby picture of the grandfather I never got to meet, as well as a photo of him as a young man, and another candid shot of him wearing a milk bucket on his head (He was a dairy farmer)! I can see and sense his humor and love of family in new ways, and appreciate the way his life and early death helped shaped my own dad’s life. I have letters my great-grandparents wrote to each other when they were first married and starting their family. I have some of Mom’s letters when she was struggling as a single mother on a limited income. Many of these items I will keep–not only as a reminder of the past that shaped me, but to pass on to future generations. Other photos, letters, and objects have been given to certain other family members– it is part of the legacy THEY will pass on. Still other items I will let go– they have served their purpose and other items will take their place.

It has been tempting, with the amount of “stuff” that my Mom kept, to just throw everything out. Much of it has to be cleaned off, sorted, identified– and room must be found to keep it! So I also have to look around at what I have been hanging on to, and ask, “Why?” What lessons to I want to pass on? What objects tell an instructive story about my life? What impact will I have on others in the years to come?

One of the most difficult things to go through are the photos and letters my Mother kept. She kept nearly every letter and greeting card she ever received. They meant that much to her. Not the actual cards and paper– the thoughts, the love and connection–the people they represent were her greatest treasures on this earth. And I can’t keep them all. I don’t have space, and many of the people are strangers to me– her elementary classmates, co-workers from years gone by, great-aunts–people long since dead and, with my mom’s passing, forgotten by most. But I will keep some, because they are a testament to Mom’s love of others– her deep and abiding love for everyone who touched her life, and allowed her to touch theirs. I have thrown out, recycled, or given away many of Mom’s clothes and books, and I’m working to give away the thousands of unused greeting cards she had stockpiled but never sent. But most of all, I will keep the stories– stories of God’s faithfulness in her life; stories of how He worked in and through her life to touch hundreds of others; stories of how God’s Love blooms in the simple acts of kindness and baby steps of Faith; in the ordinary joys and tears and minor miracles of daily life.

And I will hold tightly to the stories of my childhood– of Moses and the Burning Bush; of Jesus the Good Shepherd; of David trusting God to face Goliath; of the women finding an empty tomb on the first Easter Morning. One of the pictures I inherited is a print of Jesus on the Road to Emmaus. Two men are walking along, talking to a third man. Such a simple act. Such an ordinary occurrence. But this is no ordinary walk– the man in the middle is the Risen Christ–the One who conquered death to bring eternal life to the two unsuspecting travelers. The print hangs on my wall now. The print itself is not of much material value– but the story! That is worth my life– to keep, to share, to cherish, to proclaim to those yet to come!