My stuff

I just read an interesting blog about "stuff".  The point of the blog was that we spend a lot of time accumulating things that have meaning and sentiment to us - a "story" if you will.  The author of the blog makes the point that it is hard for us to face the fact that our children will not necessarily feel the same attachment to the things that are meaningful to us, and we need to find a measure of understanding as to what that will mean.

My curio cabinet that Uncle Buddy refurnished.
My Grandma Annie's rooster cookie jar.
The rag doll my beloved Mamaw made for me.
Margaret's few remaining pieces of pottery.
Daddy's christening gown.
Andy's ticket stub collection.
His albums... oh, his albums.
    the list goes on....

Two things along with this blog really hit home with me.  One was the move of my in-laws to Assisted Living a couple of years ago.  My father-in-laws books bought with so much anticipation listed and boxed up.  My mother-in-laws teacup set donated to the Ladies' ministry at their church.

And this week, walking through Elaine's house.  She was everywhere, but she was gone.  Her dolls, her owls.  Her paintings. Her photographs.  When I got home, I walked through my own home with new eyes.  Someday - hopefully not TOO soon - my things that I love will be left behind for Dana and Erin to sort through.  The reality makes me both happy and sad.   I am sure there are things they will treasure, and I am sure there are things that, while they mean a lot to me, will not mean so much to them.  Just as it was with my own parents....

Let's just say, it was a blog that spoke volumes to my heart.