A Stuffer

For the word of God is alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword. Hebrews 4:12

It’s been an on-going saga in my life this year – what to keep and what to discard. The irony in those decisions has been the value placed on the items. It’s been easier to part with a large piece of furniture or family antique than it has an old letter or kindergarten art work.

That box that most mothers stash in the cabinet or under the bed was full of finger paint drawings, get-well cards from Tahya and Eli, and lots of Mother’s Day cards. Call me a nostalgia geek, but even I know I kept way too much stuff.

Even as I tried to discard I spent too much time re-reading them or strolling down memory lane. I would wrestle with what to do, but the question that always turned me toward the garbage can was this: Who will want to keep these when I’m gone?

I knew the answer. No one! Eli’s drawing of our family with its peanut-shaped images on an 11×14 piece of yellowed paper wouldn’t bring any real sentiment to his own little ones. I was only saving things for my children to discard.

However, I dug my heels in on a few items. One was Mother’s address book. It’s a spiral-bound hardback with almost every page covered in names and addresses. One can follow friends and family members’ moves by the list of changes. Phone numbers are jotted on the backs of pages and some old friends are (sadly) crossed through.

Last week I was needing a relative’s address and instead of googling it I turned to Mother’s address book. It caused me to drop on the edge of the bed and read through the names. I lingered – and lingered. It was her handwriting, and I treasured every curve and uniform letter. I remembered her ministry of letter-writing and newspaper-clipping ministry and how many times she had used this catalog of names. She never painted canvasses like her own mother, but she had mailed so many one-of-a-kind treasures in an envelope.

Someday Mother’s address book will be tossed to the garbage, but it will be someone else to do it. For me, it’s one small way I can still touch what she touched.

Sometimes I open God’s Word, and I experience a similar happening. The words I read are God-breathed and God-inspired. No, they’re not the original tablets that Moses held or the scrolls like Isaiah carried, but God’s Spirit is there. It’s a visit with Him each time I read from the Bible’s pages. How we should treasure every word and each visit.

Father, when I think about your word being God-breathed, written to your children, I am in awe. How can we praise You enough? It’s hard to imagine – words to me from the Creator! May our praises never stop! Amen.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

• Camille Anding is a child of God since age 12.
• Wife of 53 years to Othel; mother to Tahya and Eli;l grandmother to seven grandchildren and two great-grands.
• Retired from photography business with Othel. Now carry cameras on their travel adventures.
• Freelance writer, regular contributor to Hometown magazines, and dedicated to living “my utmost for His highest.”