Do you ever sit and reminisce? Memories are such a gift. My 38+ years of life hold memories ranging from wonderful to pretty terrible, with the majority falling somewhere in the mediocre in-between. And those are kind of my favorites.
Stop for a moment to sit and think about the years that have gone by in your life. What’s the “stuff” that’s made you you?
I tend to save the less great memories for more rare reflections, as they can be productive, but in a way that kind of weighs me down.
But one of my favorite things to do, a thing I far too seldom do, is to sit and walk through my life from the beginning- whatever first memory I can drum up- to the present. Focusing in on memories that stir my heart. Usually the same things play out, but occasionally, I’ll remember something I’d forgotten over the years.
It’s like a bit of time travel.
If I’m sitting and only doing this, I can even remember the feel of those days, the way the sun was shining, or the rain pouring down, or the smell in the room that day.
It’s like magic. Truly, these memories (even the more foolish ones) are such a gift.
I’ve started to keep a running list of these memories. They aren’t in chronological order, but maybe one day, I’ll get to that. I don’t write down every memory that passes my mind, but maybe I should.
So far, I’ve been keeping a list of the ones that evoke some feeling of nostalgia. Ones that leave me with appreciation, with thoughts of “man, my childhood was really pretty great.”
They’re the ones that leave me with a sense of longing for what are inevitably my own “wonder years.”
What are your memories like that? Maybe they’re few and far between. But maybe, if you sit and dream a bit, or dare to write them out…there will be more than you realize.
Maybe your past is full of color, and these memories are kind of like shiny spots or glitter amongst the already bright…but maybe your coming of age years are predominately dark or scribbled out…perhaps there’s a thread or pocket or patch of brightness laced within somewhere.
Whether they’re many or few, these kinds of memories are such a gift.
I spent yesterday morning traveling back through my own memory lane. I made quite a list, and today, I thought it would be fun to share with you one of these shiny spots in my history.
Those of you a bit younger than me may not relate well to this one, but if you’re in your mid to late thirties or older, I hope this stirs up a bit of nostalgia for you.
Remember when we didn’t have cell phones? Or email? Or even a computer?!?
I can remember when I got my first of all of the above!
Those were simpler times for sure. I grew up as much at my friend’s houses as I did at my own, and I feel like half the stuff I got to do as a kid most of us as parents now would say “hmmm, no” to.
I had friends from school and church, but I also had friends from summer camps. And those friends were from all over the state or beyond.
So, when I wasn’t hanging out in person with friends, and I couldn’t just text or email someone, was that it? We just ceased to communicate?
Nope. What did we do, y’all?
We ripped a page out of our spiral notebook, picked the little edge papers off and threw them on the floor because we were teenagers and jerks, and instead of taking notes in science class, we wrote notes to each other and passed them in between classes. Or stuck them in lockers. Or if we were really rebellious, we passed them DURING class.
(I couldn’t do that. My mom was a teacher and in my head that meant I could never get in trouble. She never told me that, it’s just what I always thought. Although I do have a few memories of going to the principal’s office in my lifetime. Maybe I’ll share those one day).
But a level up from these well crafted notes written and folded creatively and passed to my friends at school were the masterpieces of my youth– letters. These went to my dear friends across the state (and a few out of state).
Actual letters written on cute stationery (or more spiral notebook paper). Letters I labored over at my desk in my room, folded the multiple pages together, stuffed in an envelope, stamped and mailed. Letters where I talked about nothing sometimes or poured my heart out other times. Page after page, y’all.
And here’s the real kicker– everyone wrote back.
Everyone!
The guys, the girls, and even the camp counselors. I’m not talking about one thin envelope here or there- I’m talking about longstanding letter writing relationships. It was so exciting to open the mailbox and pick up an envelope addressed to me– full of pages upon pages of life details from these friends of mine. Friends I’d see maybe once a year if we happened to go to camp at the same time that next summer.
Some of these friends become super close confidants and when I was old enough to drive, I remember visiting a few of them in person (and staying with them! For days! With a family my family didn’t know at all! As a parent this seems so weird to me, but I am so thankful my parents let me do this, as some of my fondest memories are wrapped up in these friendships).
Our letter writing relationships began to decline with the advent of the internet and email and ICQ (who remembers that?!?!) and AIM, and into adulthood, those friendships kind of dissipated. I don’t know why, it’s just what happened.
Was it life? Growing up? Starting families? Maybe it was technology itself.
I have to be intentional about writing handwritten notes these days. I fail at it pretty miserably, because a text or Facebook message is so convenient. But the art of it isn’t there. The evocation of nostalgia isn’t there.
My heart still thrills at the receipt of a handwritten letter in the mail.
Every word written– even when they were likely too many words, too many details, too much emotion disclosed (including, yes, some unrequited love), is a little stone in the path that built my youth. And I look back on those letter writing and receiving days with such fondness, my heart is warm just thinking about it.
I feel joy remembering those people I don’t even know anymore, people who I hope would remember me fondly as well- but may not remember me at all.
But I look back with fondness because this was something I enjoyed! It was more than letter writing– it’s part of the way we formed and kept relationships “back then.” And because who those friends were, the people God was shaping them to be, back then, is part of what shaped me.
Who they are today, I don’t know. I’d love to know! But in a way, it’s irrelevant, because that’s not where my memory is held.
My memory was made back then, and back then, the Lord used them in the moments they were living in right then.
That’s something worth pausing to think about. How the you of yesterday impacted the lives of yesterday. And how the you of today is impacting lives today. And how all of that will be a distant memory when the you of tomorrow is impacting lives tomorrow, wherever you are then.
Those notes and letters were gifts back then. Pieces of history that are seemingly obsolete now. And they are gifts now, in the folds of my memories, filling my heart with an ache that just feels good.
Were you a letter writer? Did you have friends or pen pals from all over? Are you still friends with any of them? I’d love to hear all about it.
Isn’t God kind?
Soli Deo gloria-
©Alisha H. Cary 2020
My favorite memory of letters in my life are letters from my grandmother. I will say, she and I did not have a lot in common. She was a polite, upstanding, looked-up-to lady that was always fearful of what others think when making decisions. But when i was a young teen i would get letters from her that spoke to who I was in her eyes, who she saw me becoming. Now having teenagers, I think back about how extrodinarily kind that was of her.
Oh, I love that so much. I also wrote back and forth to my grandmothers some– more into my adulthood than my teen years, though. Neither of my grandmothers are alive anymore, so coming across letters I’ve saved from them and forgotten about is always such a gift.