Remembering – Emily's Snippets

It finally happened, I have joined those who begin conversations, “I remember when…” or “That reminds me!” I have joined those seeing that “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 1:9.

It would be so easy to live each day remembering what was, rather than what will be. Yet I see the past as lessons learned and the wonder of the future as, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24.

In rejoicing, one must give thanks, as I Thessalonians 5:17-18 says, “Pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.“

When I remember the past, I see the ways that God worked in my life. Always, I can see God’s hand in those around me – family and friends. No, I consciously look – for God’s hand in the lives around me and in our country. Psalm 16:6 says, “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.

These words were the basis of the book that Anna Daisy Siemens wrote about her family. Clinging to God’s promises and His Word, despite heartache, created a delightful inheritance that goes beyond this life. An inheritance that is taught from generation to generation – Joel 1:3 – “Tell it to your children and let your children tell it to their children, to the next generation.”

What is the language used to relay the information from generation to generation? Music. Music that relays a message of beauty, of delight, that comforts and in melody and rhythm and lyrics relays the message of eternity. Music is not an exercise of the preciseness of notes. A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence. ~Leopold Stokowski. Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. ~Berthold Auerbach. All deep things are song. – Thomas Carlyle

I opened a box of memories yesterday. And I remembered….the heritage of music and faith. Mom’s glasses, with the right lens covered with carefully cut white felt – then she could still read. A box of ‘borders’ to decorate her handmade calligraphed cards. A

pair of hand scissors, a lilac colored ribbon and two hair combs to hold back her hair, decorated with pink yarn.

A copy of Grandma Suderman’s journal – precious words. And a variety of old music books, including a song from the Ausgewablte Lieder des Evangeliums (1927), Die Kleine Palme #2 (1900) and Die Melodien ber Frohen Botschaft – Gnadenfeld, (1884). The later book was brought to this country.

Mother wrote this poem, how did she know that I would write one day about memories.

Memory Sips

My mind returns to memory rooms

where love still blooms

in youthful ways

of yesterdays.

Three babies grew and romance came

to lay its claim.

Then papa died —

I wept and sighed.

Each afternoon I still am prone

to sit alone

for little sips

of memory trips.

Yes, I remember and rejoice for the faith, and strength in that faith, and look forward ever rejoicing in the path God has for me!

Comments? eacombs@eacombs@cox.net