I was having a conversation with my daughter yesterday about the “good ole’ days.”
It was interesting to get the perspective of a 21-year-old momma-to-be.
I was sharing with her some of my thoughts of some images my mom shared recently of my grandpa (her dad), who passed away 30 years ago this August 21. I would tell my mom in a text Saturday afternoon that I look at those pictures and can’t help by tear up.
It’s the “simpler days” for me.
I looked at the simple house he and my grandma shared for most of their married life.
I looked at the simple backyard shenanigans with a simple bucket of water and a lawn chair.
I looked at the simple cars on the simple street of their simple neighborhood.
And honestly, my heart hurt.
Because nothing seems as “simple” anymore.
And then just this morning it hit me.
I have certain “memories” of my life growing up that I refer back to quite often.
Memories that include taking simple walks with my family around our house after a big Thanksgiving just talking and laughing - only to return to have a “second round” that always included pumpkin pie and whipped cream! There were no stores open to shoppers, no cell phones chirping, no pursuit for the “best of 147 selfies” to post on a social media platform that promises a “greater degree of connection”, but in actuality has in fact succeeded at promoting a “greater degree of self-loathing and loneliness.”
Memories that include family picnics where EVERY family member was present because it was a priority. Nothing else mattered. We didn’t gather to say we gathered, but it was something planned for and prepared for for months. Where conversations were had, and interest in others was authentic.
Memories that include actual “house calls” and not “random texts.” Where people spent time, extended effort, made meals, sat long, shared stories, celebrated big. A time when we looked into the eyes of loved ones and listened.
These are memories I have of my years growing up.
And YET my Chloe has memories of her own which include the same kind of images.
Where family gathered intentionally. Where seasons we slower and experiences were heart-felt and love was the only thing that mattered.
In my own reminiscing, I forgot that she, too, has a set of memories that are unique to her and the season in which she grew up.
And one day she will be telling her children of “simpler times”… the “Good ole’ days!”
And so I was gently reminded by a loving Savior this morning that time, though it keeps marching on and though the world is spinning at warp speed I have a great need to stop and enjoy this moment… the one right here. And yep - this one here too! And to understand, deeply that these ARE the good ole’ days. The ones we’re living in now. And by failing to savor them, we miss the greatest impact they will ever have on us.
These ARE the good ole’ days!
