A Final Goodbye
1994….a
year that was etched in my life. After
being in the family for more than 60 years, the family farm was sold and
possession was turned over to its new owner.
Lots of thoughts and feelings attached to the event. The house was very large. Rumor has it that it was built specifically
for the purpose of accommodating visiting pastors and missionaries of the
church nearby. Whether or not the
intention was fulfilled in its early days more than 112 years ago, I do not
know, but for at least 60 years it has fulfilled its obligation. As I happened to be the last family member to
shut and lock its doors, I took one last stroll through this house where I had
been raised. Surveying each room, it was
possible for me to remember significant events that had occurred in each. Each room had a different décor, each room
had different characteristics. Some
enjoyed more sunlight than others because of the proximity of the large trees
outside and orientation to east and west.
Some were large and some were very small. My steps echoed behind me in this place that
seemed so strange to see empty. It had
served our family’s needs well and would soon begin its opportunity to serve
another family. You cannot live in a
place for such a long time and resist the memories that beg to be relived in
one’s mind. There are memories of the
everyday events, the family meals, the chores that needed to be done, the
homework that was to be completed or ignored, the toys strewn around the living
room, Sunday evening “Bonanza” with popcorn and root beer, Mom running the
vacuum cleaner at 10 P.M. while waiting for Dad to arrive home from work,
slides down the neat cherry banister while Dad wasn’t looking, rushing around
to get ready for the school bus, the ringing of the church bell next door, the
big gatherings on Christmas and Thanksgiving and more—so much more. In itself, the house had been a museum. Collections of several generations could be
found there, each item having a story of its own. My final tour completed, I said “goodbye” one
more time, as I had countless times before over the years, kind of pausing to
once again let memory cause me to hear goodbye as I had heard it hundreds of
times before. This time, however, there
was no reply, just the echo of my words through the empty rooms and hallways
and the final click of the closing door.
Turning toward the bright sunlight of the outdoors, I realized that it
was now my turn to make sure that my family would have the fond memories that I
knew were possible from loving and fun relationships, gatherings and
events. I realized it was now my
responsibility to see to it that my family discovers how memories are not
bought with expensive and decorative furnishings but rather with time, love and
a relationship with God. The house, and
any house is really just a meaningless box without these essential ingredients
and the echo deafening. “In the house of
the righteous is much treasure…”
Proverbs 15:6
