What Will They Remember?

A family, that we love and are very close to, has four boys.
Those boys spent a lot of time in our home.
I enjoyed watching them when their mother had things to do.
I enjoyed seeing their Lego creations and the way they played with our toys.

I was thinking of the boys the other day, remembering something sweet they used to do.
We all went to the same church during those years.
There was always a time of greeting at the beginning of the service.
It was then they did something from their heart that still brings a smile to my face.

After asking their mom and dad, they would leave their seats and walk over to us.
One by one, they would come down our row and give each of us a hug.
Sometimes, they had something to show me or tell me.
Sometimes, they held a piece of artwork.

They would run back to their parents before the service started.
Everyone in the church knew that this would happen each week.
They were sad when we were on vacation.
It is wonderful to walk to the other side of the church by yourself, when you are young.

As the boys grew, the older one stayed in his seat while the younger ones came over to us.
The love and affection were still the same, but there was a line you did not cross.
Soon, only two of the boys came over to us.
Then we went to another church.

I missed our Sunday hugs.
We are still close to the family and to the four boys.
The oldest boy towers over me in height.
When the older two boys first got phones, their mom made a request.
She wanted me to be one of the few contacts they were allowed to have at that time.

I remember these things so vividly.
Many wonderful memories are shared between our families.
The boys are very athletic and very involved in sports.
Yet, still, there is a bond that cannot be broken between us.

I wonder if they have similar memories?
I wonder if they remember the church hugs as much as I do?
I wonder if they remember that they loved Mrs. Gallagher’s grilled cheese?
I wonder if they remember the many days they spent in our home?

A good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you and were helped by you will remember you when forget-me-nots have withered. Carve your name on hearts, not on marble. (Charles Spurgeon)

The children who come to my house with their moms for Bible study love my candy drawer.
Just last week, one of those young moms came over with two of her four children.
When they were ready to go pick up the other children from VBS, the little girl looked at me.
She knew that a piece of candy was waiting for her.

Without missing a beat, after asking her mom, she went to the candy drawer.
She chose a piece of candy, actually one for each hand.
She was all smiles.
It has been a few months since she has been in my kitchen.

I wonder if she will remember going to Mrs. Gallagher’s candy drawer?
I wonder if she remembers the little bag of goldfish that went with her in the car?
I wonder what she will remember?
As special as it all is to me, how special are these memories to the children who visit here?

That question is not meant to be a conceited one.
It is not praise that I am after.
I care about making sweet memories, first for my family and then those who come to my home.
I care that memories are being made and cherished, no matter how small and insignificant.

I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds. Your ways, God, are holy. What god is as great as our God? You are the God who performs miracles; you display your power among the peoples. (Psalm 77:11-14)

When a child remembers time spent in our home, I hope they remember the Lord lives here.
I hope they remember that whatever I do, I do for His Glory.
I hope they see joy here.
I hope they feel loved and accepted here.

I want to remember the deeds of the Lord.
I want to tell others about Him.
I want to show the treasure that waits for them in His Word.
I want them to know that they are deeply loved by God.

I want to carve my name on their hearts as I point them to Him.
I want them to know that Jesus engraves our name on the palm of His hand.
I want them to see Christ in me.
Those kind of memories are the lasting ones.