Typically, when I write every morning, I sit at my desk. However, when the house is decorated for the holidays, I take my laptop into the living room and sit where I can see the tree.
Sitting in here gives me a different view and perspective. Not only do I see the decorations, but I also see paintings that came from my aunt’s and uncle’s homes, a table that came from my grandmother, a curio filled with mementos from three generations of both of our families, the antique armoire with which Kevin surprised me for one of our early Christmases, and two old windows, that now hang on the wall, serving as frames for old photos of Robinsons and Garmans.
It’s pretty (at least to my eyes) but more, it feels solid, for lack of a better word. Secure. Grounded. Our families were caretakers of our history, and because of that, we are surrounded by the sure foundation of it.
Not everyone is sentimental, or keeps things from the past, but I think we are still called to be caretakers of it. It’s been said that we can’t know where we’re going if we don’t know where we’ve been. We need to learn from it – the good and the bad – so old mistakes aren’t repeated, and important lessons are passed on. Who’s going to do it, if not us?
What will future generations be surrounded by as they sit in their own living rooms?
How I hope they will look at our carefully saved treasures from the past to gird them up in the security of family.
How I pray, like me, they’ll be warmed by a legacy of love.
We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might, and the wonders that he has done. ~ Psalm 78:4 ESV