The sky is cornflower blue this morning, not a cloud anywhere I can see. Was hoping for a good rain this afternoon but Father Sky didn’t sketch enough rain clouds on his sky canvas. The clouds dropped a few fists full of raindrops to cool things off and perk up the vegetables who are standing tall in prayer for more rain. I can see some storms on the weather radar west of us so I’m hoping for a good drenching soon.

I sat out in the swing after supper and watched the magical moments of twilight blanket the earth. Reminded me of watching my children’s eyes close as I rocked them to sleep each night. The evening began to get dark and a silence echoed in its quietness. The sunset was a private art show by ticket only, conducted behind a cloud curtain watercolored honey gold and pale elderberry. I could imagine Father Sky and the sun laughing and skipping down the cloudy horizon, dressed in jeans and t-shirts. They carried rainbow polka-dotted umbrellas, splashing through the puddles in their purple high top tennis shoes.

Sitting in the swing this morning in the quiet, I heard the voices of my ancestors on the porch through the soft tintinnabulations of the wind chimes from the whispers of the summer breeze. I heard my grandmother happily coming home from her honeymoon to the beautiful home her father built for her and her husband, Paul, across the street from the home she grew up in. I listened to my mama and daddy, following their honeymoon in New Orleans, walking up the same steps to this home, given to them as a wedding present from my grandmother. Chief and I were married here in front of the fireplace in the living room and left for our honeymoon from this front porch of the home that is mine now.

Generations of my family’s children have been rocked to sleep in the porch swings, some of us got our first goodnight kisses here. My mother was born here and drew her last breath here in her reading chair, my daddy’s last breath was here in the kitchen at the family dining table following Sunday dinner. The house is 106 years old now, still strong, though showing her age, and proudly gathering memories from another generation of family.

Memories are so important to me. My memories of my daughter and my beloved husband hold me tight when my days are dark. Happy memories help us cope when times are difficult. When we share our memories we strengthen the bonds we have with loved ones and create a sense of belonging. I think memories are gifts from God’s grace, a comfort and a promise of a glorious reunion in heaven. Our memories sustain us and warm our hearts.  Scripture views memory as sacred, reminding us to use our faith in God to let go of our past failures, letting God’s grace heal our memories that are painful.

God also sustains us through his love and his faithfulness. Psalm 55:22 states, “Cast your cares on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” If we put our trust in God, he takes our burdens and anxieties from our shoulders and supports as we journey through life. We can stand tall with God’s strength, weathering the storms and obstacles thrust on our path. We can walk with confidence knowing God will catch us if we stumble or fall.

God wants us to remember his words, too. John 14:26 says, “The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Deuteronomy 32:7 reads, “Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations: ask thy father, and he will show thee; thy elders, and they will tell thee.” God wants us to remember the experiences of our ancestors so we can teach lessons to our children by recalling our failures as well as our our triumphs.

We need to be conscious of making memories with our families, gathering together for comfort in time of sadness and celebrating together in times of joy. We don’t truly appreciate an everyday experience until it becomes a memory. I want my brothers’ children and mine, and our grandchildren, to remember the joys and sadness we’ve experienced in this family home. I want them to feel a sense of connection to a special family’s love. Four generations of memories are stored in the bricks of this house. As I ponder in the porch swing this afternoon, I’m so thankful for my heritage. I love this front porch!

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.” — Dr. Seuss