remember your creatorRecently, my mom discovered several boxes from my youth and young adult years. Sorting through them, I was reminded of who I used to be.

I grew up in a large, lively church. My teen years were spent mostly at church where I was involved in everything from choir, youth group, weekly Bible studies, to putting on puppet shows for children’s church. When not at church, I would babysit for families from the church and cross stitch.

The boxes contained fabric and patterns that I used to make my own clothes and items for friends. And a great deal of cross stitching equipment. This is how I spent my youth.

I had a wide circle of friends from church. Some stayed on the straight and narrow, many veered off into another world. They drank, did drugs, and other things I dared not try. At the age of 10 I read the Bible from cover to cover. The verse in Ecclesiastes about remembering your Creator stuck with me. I wrote it in notebooks and on scraps of paper I put up around my room. This was the challenge I put before myself, to remember my Creator in everything I did – especially in my youth.

Looking back, I have no regrets. I lived a chaste life that others often ridiculed. I didn’t mind. My eye was set on a prize. I knew remembering my Creator would please Him. That’s what mattered to me.

I had a wide circle of eccentric friends. They were musical and comical. They were at times creative and serious. We laughed together a great deal. It was so much fun. Sadly, it was long before cellphones and social media. I was so busy enjoying myself, I didn’t stop to take pictures.

This is the youth I want for my kids. I realize it’s a different world today. But I think there’s still room for remembering and valuing the Creator.


Thus far, most of my life has taken place prior to social media. I’ve never owned a camera. Even now, I only have one because it’s on my phone. Despite carrying it with me always, I often forget to capture what’s happening.

My youth and young adult life have passed without much to remember them by. I have dresses (most of which I made), some sentimental birthday cards, and a few tokens – like programs from plays. Some of my most profound relationships have passed with nothing to show for it. There’s no card, no scrap of paper, no photograph, no dress that I wore on a special night. There’s nothing. It may be this void that keeps me hanging onto the momentous I do have.

This past week I’ve been sorting through old memorabilia (reorganizing around my new business workspace). I’ve managed to condense the dresses down to one suitcase. My body was once much smaller. It may never be again. I don’t hold onto these garments with hopes of wearing them. They remain – some having moved with me nearly a dozen times – to remind me of the past.

In the drudgery of everyday life as a stay at home mom, those times catch my heart and make me smile. Not that my current life doesn’t afford moments of joy. It does. There are many moments and relationships worth remembering. Still, there’s something romantic about the past. In my youth, I failed to appreciate how carefree life really was. There was a yearning in my heart to get here – motherhood.

I’m here. And it’s glorious – sometimes. Most often it’s simply a great deal of work. Quite often I find myself singing along to the Stars…..”All I want is one more chance to be young and wild and free…..” What would you do with that chance? Instead of racing towards the next phase, I’d savour every moment of freedom.

suitcase full of memories

suitcase full of memories