Somewhere along the way someone told me that the past is dead and gone. Regrettably, I believed them.

Because I bought into that, I’ve spent a great deal of my life pushing forward, planning, waiting for the next thing, anticipating. There is some value in those things, but leaning too far in that direction comes with the price tag of not properly honoring memories that deserve to be lingered over and cherished.

I think I have been afraid I’d get stuck. Perhaps it felt like I was wasting time dwelling on the past. Maybe I was worried I’d be the old guy that starts way too many sentences with, “I remember when…”

I am now reconsidering all that.

I still don’t want to be that guy. I don’t enjoy watching folks glaze over when I’m talking any more than the next fellow, but I am going to spend a little more time visiting precious memories.

Mary Oliver calls this,

“The kingdom we call remembrance

with its thousand iron doors

through which I pass easily.” (Winter At Herring Cove)

I am going to spend more evenings on the porch, mornings with coffee, and perhaps some afternoons with my feet up, letting my heart pass through iron doors into treasure rooms full of things that make gold ridiculously disposable.

-The room where I watch a beautiful bride walk toward me as I nervously stand at the front of the church.

-Another where I hear the doctor say, “It’s a girl!”

-There’s the one where my grandson reaches for my hand as we walk together through a parking lot.

-Of course there’s that sacred room where my brother and I weep as we keep watch over our father in his closing moments this side of the veil.

-I am going to visit the room where I realize my daughter is woman, true, wise, and strong.

-Rooms where we laugh, cry, catch one another’s eye and smile, say good-bye, try hard to do good, get back up after failing, pray and know we are heard.

-I am going to hold some babies, get licked by a couple of puppies from across the bridge, feel accomplishment for finishing a few races, metaphorical and the kind with kilometers.

Rooms that deserve to be revisited, yes cherished.

There are many rooms packed with wonder-filled memories in this house/life God gave me. They are not dead and gone by a long shot.