Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Crazy Lesson 2: Memories Don't Bind Us

I'm learning lessons in a crazy season...

Lesson 2: Memories shape us, but they don't bind us.

Three years ago, I watched as my childhood came crumbling down. True they were asbestos-ridden and ineffective. They were a maze of floors woven together with good intentions. But they were my memories. 

I learned to run up and down the sky walk. I could tell stories for every mural in the children's building. I learned to sing in the theater and watched my Dad lead Bible studies in old Coleman Hall. I attended camps and VBS. A guy told me he loved me for the first time in one of our old chapels (clearly that was the vow of a lifetime). I hung out with my best friends every Wednesday night in the old sky walk. I spent time with my youth pastor and snuck countless fountain drinks from the back of his office. I learned to read in the old library and knew exactly where my favorite books could be found. I even had a teddy bear with my name on it every time I visited.

But the buildings are gone. The old hallways and walls are rubble in a landfill. 

Application: Memories are not tied to brick and mortar.

They continue to live on in my daily decisions, in the smiles and discussions with childhood friends, in the pictures in my albums, and the stories in my old journals.

A beautiful campus now stands in the place of these old buildings. Kids will learn to walk and talk and read here. They will find their best friends in this place, the ones that stand beside them in their wedding some day. They will learn the beauty of music and the gospel. They will grow up in the shadow of where others tread before them. 

And I'm thankful for their opportunity, for the memories they will make, just as the rubble of the old shaped mine.

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