Playdates with God: Making Memories

Thanksgiving 2012

We try to make memories when we can—I have so few stories to call my own. So we write them together—turn pages slowly and try to fill all the empty space into the margins. Life is a runaway train and the only way to stop that fast roll is to savor the minutes.

One day my boys will say, “Remember when…” and this thought feeds more than turkey and dressing and these snapshots are imprinted on my heart.

Thanksgiving 2012 Thanksgiving 2012 Thanksgiving 2012
We walk with their grandmother and their aunt and cousin. There is one missing, but Christmas is coming soon and maybe then we’ll walk again. It seems strange how conversation can be hard with people you love and I remember what my sister-in-law told my husband after she first met me. I think it was New Year’s Eve and her two girls still had rounded cheeks and I exclaimed over their dress-up antics. I was new and so young and I didn’t know where this love would take me. But when he asked her later, she said to him, “She’s just nice.
Just nice.
Sometimes I think the whole of my life could fit in those two words.
Blood and vows are the threads that tie us together but love is the knot that binds. So when the day after Thanksgiving dawns gray and threatens rain, we run away together—just the two of us. It’s another memory we like to make—a gift made possible by my in-laws, who are always ready to make more memories with our boys.

Thanksgiving 2012 Thanksgiving 2012 Thanksgiving 2012

We drive a couple hours and listen to music and talk about Tolkien and dream together. When we get there we shop a little and walk downtown. The streets are gilded with fallen gold and I can see my breath curl out in front of me. But my hand is in his and he still has places he wants to show me. And I think to myself how—when I am old and gray…when I’ve forgotten most things—I want this feel of his hand in mine to be buried so deep in my synapses that it is always the anchor that stays me. Like the words of my favorite hymn that linger inside every cell and molecule—singing music into the empty places inside of me—his hand in mine leads me to that place of deep surrender where I give thanks that my life is not my own.  
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
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Comments

  1. says

    Laura, this time with your family–yes, memories feeling like they are rushing like a runaway train–and your surrendering yourself to the moment, and the beauty of your hand hold fast in your beloved’s. . . just beautiful. Bless you this week, friend.

  2. JosephPote says

    “…his hand in mine leads me to that place of deep surrender where I give thanks that my life is not my own. “
    Loved this!
    There are parts of my heart that I find difficult to express in words. Somehow, you seem to find ways of expressing them…
    Thank you, Laura!

  3. messymarriage says

    You’ve encouraged me to savor the moment–the making of memories, Laura. I’m inspired to cherish the feel of my own husband’s hand in mine as well. What a beautiful portrait you always paint for us with words and photos and soul-pouring honesty. I love how you see so much about your world than I often do. As I’m often in too big of a hurry to take it all in. Thanks for slowing me down, my friend!

  4. Linda Chontos says

    Me too Laura – the nice part I mean. I once heard someone get angry over being called nice, and I felt sad. If nice is who you are, I’m honored to be called the same. You are so very special. Thank you for speaking truth so powerfully. Memories are precious gifts we give to one another.

  5. says

    That sounds like a delightful holiday, despite the “one missing.” May the Lord comfort you all in the keen ache of grief sharpened by holidays and anniversaries. I’m sorry for your loss and warmed by the glimpse into your life.

  6. soulstops says

    sigh…just so sweet…so glad you were able to make memories as a family, and just be with your man…I’m with you: there is just something about holding my hubby’s hand that always makes me feel secure and loved…blessings, dear one 🙂

  7. says

    You had me from the moment I read this line- Life is a runaway train and the only way to stop that fast roll is to savor the minutes.. and then I finished the post and whispered AMEN through so many other lines, too. I hope in the end my epitaph says “She’s just nice” — can’t think of a greater compliment to Jesus! So nice to find you here, friend.

  8. Diane | AnExtraordinaryDay.net says

    “his hand in mine leads me to that place of deep surrender where I give thanks that my life is not my own” – I love this. What a good place to be. May you create many many more memories to treasure.

  9. pastordt says

    Ah. Such beauty, Laura. Thank you for these glory-words, these poignantly-true words. And for the pictures, too. Just lovely…

  10. lindseyfoj says

    I am aching inside with the beauty of your words…I feel melancholy-joy as I roll them around the recesses of my mind. Thank you for inviting us in to this reverie…and reminding me of the important things in the process.

  11. says

    Thank you, Diana. You know I feel the same about your glory-words :). Just read your Christ the King Sunday post this morning but didn’t have time to respond. Some things need sitting with…

  12. says

    It might make a good epitaph…The older I get the more I appreciate “nice”. And smiling. Seems like people forget to smile these days. Thanks for your sweet words, Alicia. You bless.

  13. says

    Yes, I know what you mean, Dolly. Holding hands makes our love feel young again. But wise too. It’s something I don’t take for granted anymore :). Happy day to you! I hope to come over to visit you a bit later.

  14. says

    I’m honored to be in the “nice” category with you too, my friend :). I feel the same about you–how special you are. So grateful to call you friend and I do hope we get to meet up in person again one day! I hold on to that memory and smile. Love to you.

  15. says

    I don’t know why surrender can be so hard…it feels so sweet. And letting my hand be cupped and covered by my beloveds seems to be a small way of opening my heart to trust. Love to you, Jennifer!

  16. kingfisher says

    I’m glad you’re making beautiful memories, sweet Laura. The time with your special man must have been delicious. May we also count on the times God holds hands with us (all the time) — even though that’s harder to visualize. Love ya!

    (kingfishercrossing –last blog post is “God Knew Me Forever”

  17. amyscanderson says

    Beautiful. That last paragraph really melted my heart. Yes to all of it. My mother’s recently been diagnosed with dementia, so thoughts on what outlasts our conscious memories are especially appreciated right now. Looks like you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I’m thankful for you.

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