You Have Something That’s Mine

Have you ever gone home, you know, your parents home, and thought, “That’s mine!” Really. It belongs to them, but for some reason you’ve connected to the article and in your mind it belongs to you.

I’ve shared this before, but mom and dad have a coffee cup that I’ve used for easily 30 years. Maybe more. I’m not sure where it originated, but it’s a stoneware cup, just the right size, and something like a faded flower on the front. (In the picture). When I’m at their house they both know that is the cup I favored so it gets put at my place.

Now. I’m not an elitist to think this is the best cup in the world, and I cannot quite put my finger on the reason why, but that cup represents the best place about home I can imagine. Through the years we’ve collected coffee cups from everywhere we’ve traveled. Yes. I have most of them squirreled away, but this one cup represents home, parents, love, acceptance, and connection.

Thinking This Through

I remember going to my cousins house through the years and across the miles. They would have so many unique toys I had never imagined owning! A belt buckle with a derringer in it that could hinge open for easy access! An antique looking miniature Model A that we could drive through the yard. This could be an endless list.

But most of all, I remember owning my “things” and feeling important about what I had earned through being a good kid at Christmas and Birthdays, or saving my own bottle money to purchase.

Why do we connect to “things” so much? I’ve been thinking it through and feel like I may I understand it now.

Things represent something from someone else and we connect to them through that object. Like that coffee cup.

With my granddad, I remember hunting and him carrying a .22 rifle in the crook of his arm. “Mike, climb that tree and scare up that squirrel.” I would climb, and in a nearby tree that squirrel would shinny around and come into view. Bulls Eye!

After Granddad passed, Grandmother gave me his gun. She had given it to him on their one year wedding anniversary nearly 100 years ago. Dad gave me his .22 that mom gave him on their wedding day over 65 years ago. Of course, my bride gave me my own .22 the Christmas before we married, over 45 years ago. Three generations of my history!

Why do things matter so much?

Back to that coffee cup. It has no value, but it has memories. I don’t want it at my house, I want it to be left there. It needs to be available when I drop by so we can have coffee together, play a game, or eat a meal. True. Someday there will be no “there” and that cup will end up “here” – and every time that I will use that cup here, it will connect me to “there”.

It’s a link to my past and to someone I love.

Memories Are The Best Think I Own

What are your favorite memories? Who do they involve? What were you doing when you created them in the first place?

Opening a box of trinkets that belonged to my sister, I pondered each item. Some I recognized. Others left me clueless. But for her, they were treasures of places and times that are not in my memory banks. But to simply say they are worthless is a dishonor to my memory of her. She thought enough about them to hang on to. But to see value in them you have to know her. And my memory of her is about all I have.

Your memories are your own, and if we know anything about memories they are unique to each of us. Even when talking about the same place and time. We remember based on who we are. You may have fond memories of slicing open a cold watermelon at a picnic table. Though I’m there with you, you may not even remember that I cannot even stand the smell of them. You have to know my memory of watermelon’s to understand why I remember something differently than you.

I’ve learned to give you space for your memories!

My bride and I often remember things differently than the other. I’m not always right, nor am I always wrong, but we both have a sequencing of events that cause our memories to be recalled differently than the other. It’s okay if they don’t match up, unless we need to recall them properly to put them into an accurate space time continuum.

Memories To Be Treasured

Not all memories are worth holding on to. I want to focus on maintaining good memories that I can treasure and share with others.

The Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Philippi and it’s my favorite letter in the New Testament. He’s with his protege, Timothy, and they pen these words:

“I thank my God for all the memories I have of you.
Every time I pray for all of you, I do it with joy.
I can do this because of the partnership we’ve had with you in the Good News from the first day you believed until now.”  
Philippians 1:3-5 (GW)

You may not catch this like it caught me. Paul had good Memories of Philippi. This is where he taught the women at the shoreside and we first read of Lydia, a seller of “purple” dye for use in royal garments (most likely since Purple was not a color used everyday). She was Paul’s first believer in this Roman City.

Of course he had good memories!

But later he wrote about Philippi a little differently to a different audience. He describes it as rough and insulting treatment (1 Thessalonians 2:2). What gives? Two different ways of looking at the same time period?

Sure. He was doing what God had called him to do, but at the same time he was being treated roughly by others who were against him doing his ministry.

At the same time and place you can have multiple memories. You can then share them to other audiences from a different perspective. Turn the clock to a specific time and talk about your memories of that moment. Wind it up a little but, and you have new memories with new purpose.

Here’s My Thought Today

From my connection to anyone on the face of the earth, I have good memories. Equally, I probably have “not so good” memories. How do I handle each memory?

My focus will be to keep the good memories and be willing to share them with anyone who wants to hear them. They are my treasures!

The other memories? File them far away and don’t let them come out to play. The longer they are hidden, the fainter they become. Eventually, they will no longer be memories that rise to the surface. Quickly, or slowly. I’m okay with that!

Let’s keep the good memories alive and well on Planet Earth.

We all have our time machines.
Some take us back, they’re called memories.
Some take us forward, they’re called dreams.
~Jeremy Irons

From my Instagram post early this morning: “I have a coffee cup I’ve used at mom’s for 30 years. Yes. It’s hers. But it’s mine. When you are part of someone for so long there’s a part of them that belongs to you, and you that belongs to them. This is how we grow into our future…by being connected to our past. The day will come when that coffee cup will be at my house…do I have anyone in my life that is connected to me enough to lay a future claim to it? Hmmmm. Need to work on this!”