Posted by: sailingspirit | June 28, 2011

God’s Albums of Us

So many people keep journals, photo albums, shoeboxes of mementos that may have little to no meaning to anyone but themselves.  Despite how we treasure them, and insist on keeping them no matter what else from our daily life and use comes and goes with the years, no matter what else we are willing to move or not move along with us, we keep them hidden away in books and boxes, in closets and basements and garages and attics.  The less pretty places.  The necessary facilities we close the doors on.  Few of the bits are ever on display.  Sometimes those bits get away from us and travel—by way of furniture or storage trunks or jacket pockets—into the hands of others who surmise what our lives might have been…like generational detectives.  Do they put them on display?  Maybe the occasional bit or two.  But rarely, if ever, to they end up in gaudy gold frames hung high in grand galleries like the Louvre.  Can you imagine your life on display at the Louvre?  Hundreds or thousands of people milling by each day, pouring and pointing over every detail of your life?  The ooohs, the ahhhs, the praises and critiques.  What does it feel like to think about that?  As I hear people talk about the Baby’s 1st _______ books, the love letters and draft papers, wedding candles and retirement watches, all the random memories they cherish if for no other reason than they’re the makeup of their personhoods, I wonder why we insist on keeping them (hidden away).  It occurs to me that if humans collect and treasure these bits, would not our Heavenly Father do so all the more?  Does He hide them in a dusty attic, too?

The Word tells us that He collects our tears, and that the angels record our entire lives—even our thoughts and words.  The first part of that I always find touching yet strange (even a little creepy, like someone who keeps their kidney stones), but the latter always seemed more administrative and legalistic to me.  Evidence for future reference.  ‘Be careful what you say/do, it could come back to haunt you.’  Today, though, it occurs to me that like squirrels and their dens, humans and their shoeboxes, God may be stashing away all these bits simply because they’re a part of Us, our lives, and they remind Him fondly of where we’ve been and how far we’ve come.  Maybe He keeps our crayola scrawlings not in endless, impersonal file cabinets but in galleries, entire galleries for each one of us that show a most resplendent and pride-filled documentary of our entire beings.  Our best work, our worst work, our imaginations and dreams, our challenges and fears and obstacles.  One room is the day we learned to bike and swim, another room the times our heart was broken and shattered.  The kind of wandering exhibition that leaves you not with just an impression of a person, but feeling you truly know them in an intimate way.  And, therefore, if you never meet them you will love and treasure them all the same, because you feel as if you were there.  A whole gallery, for each of us.  Because He loves us so much, that much, more than we even treasure ourselves.

I wonder what God will pin for today.

Betsy Lohrer-Hall - Sweeping Light With a Broo...

Oh Lover of my soul….

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Responses

  1. A beautiful and touching post. Yes, I believe God keeps our stories. Sometimes, I get moments when I think “Wow, everything that has happened in my life has been perfect. Truly perfect. Even the sad, difficult and boring moments!”. I think that’s what it feels like to look at your life and realise its absolute beauty.


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