The Preacher and I met in his upstairs “office” this afternoon. He wanted to browse through his “stuff” (writings, messages, collections of “paperwork,” etc.), and so we did. I think he was wondering two things – what was still in his possession, and will anyone be interested in it “tomorrow.” No doubt he is getting older and realising that “the day comes closer with every breath.”
I told him that everyone wants to be remembered in one way or another, however it is not usually done by sifting through boxes of illegible scratches on piles of paper and boxes of legal tablets. He seemed a little disappointed, but at least he did not cry about it.
The reality is all of us are building a box or two of “memories,” but most memories are about how we lloved someone, or provided for them in one way or another in years gone by. It is the time we spent with them, the concern we showed in their need, and the llove we practiced when we were together.”I know, I know,” he said, “and I am confident I have some wonderful friends out there. It’s just in making a decision whether to burn this stuff or keep the clutter.” I told him to keep it. There won’t be a lot of papers still coming. The floor of the office is strong. If the barn doesn’t burn down, some bored grandchild will take a look. . .maybe. He laughed and said, “lucky him.”