I was walking through the market the
other day, and strolled past a lumber yard. The smell of freshly cut
wood reminded me of days working with my dad, remodeling peoples
homes. The smell brought back all sorts of memories, anything from
sawing 2×4’s and breathing in sawdust to the lunches we had together.
Something as simple as a smell flooded my mind with cherished
memories.
other day, and strolled past a lumber yard. The smell of freshly cut
wood reminded me of days working with my dad, remodeling peoples
homes. The smell brought back all sorts of memories, anything from
sawing 2×4’s and breathing in sawdust to the lunches we had together.
Something as simple as a smell flooded my mind with cherished
memories.
I thought for awhile about time home
after the race, and questioned what smells and sounds and experiences would
spark memories in the same way, about the race. Perhaps I’ll be driving in a car and
stick my head out the window, and remember times in Guatemala and
Thailand, driving in the back of a pick-up truck through gorgeous
countryside and over mountains as the wind rushed over me. I’ll
remember specifically the time where Tim Carlson and I were actually
standing on the bumper of a truck and holding onto the roof as we
rocked out to music and drove fearfully close to the edge of a cliff
looking over the mountains and valleys of Thailand. The mountain
dirt roads were so rough that our feet spent as much time in the air
as they did on the bumper. We were thousands of feet elevated and
filled with the joy of the Lord, as we drove home from an amazing
time ministering in a mountain village, to a people rarely visited.
after the race, and questioned what smells and sounds and experiences would
spark memories in the same way, about the race. Perhaps I’ll be driving in a car and
stick my head out the window, and remember times in Guatemala and
Thailand, driving in the back of a pick-up truck through gorgeous
countryside and over mountains as the wind rushed over me. I’ll
remember specifically the time where Tim Carlson and I were actually
standing on the bumper of a truck and holding onto the roof as we
rocked out to music and drove fearfully close to the edge of a cliff
looking over the mountains and valleys of Thailand. The mountain
dirt roads were so rough that our feet spent as much time in the air
as they did on the bumper. We were thousands of feet elevated and
filled with the joy of the Lord, as we drove home from an amazing
time ministering in a mountain village, to a people rarely visited.
Maybe I’ll be in a living room crowded
with friends and be forced to sit on the hardwood floor, and it’s
then that I’ll remember an entire month in Cambodia, eating and
sitting and sleeping and living on bamboo floor boards. I’ll be
sitting in a rocking chair and remember the four colorful and
rusted-over rocking chairs that sat outside ‘The Quinta’, a home in
Nicaragua for children in need. I’ll be
riding in a 16-passenger van with 20 Asians and all their luggage
and remember trips in Vietnam…
with friends and be forced to sit on the hardwood floor, and it’s
then that I’ll remember an entire month in Cambodia, eating and
sitting and sleeping and living on bamboo floor boards. I’ll be
sitting in a rocking chair and remember the four colorful and
rusted-over rocking chairs that sat outside ‘The Quinta’, a home in
Nicaragua for children in need. I’ll be
riding in a 16-passenger van with 20 Asians and all their luggage
and remember trips in Vietnam…
A friend will be playing guitar, and as we sing goofy impro songs, I will remember doing that one morning in Thailand. After hours and hours of travel, we were stranded at a bus station. Slightly delirious, we started singing all sorts of improv songs.
It will start raining one day, and I
will remember playing in the rain in Cape Coast, Ghana, jumping in
puddles and playing Frisbee as the heavens down poured. Maybe the rain will remind me of the time a few of us had to ride in the back of a pick-up truck going about 40mpr during a downpour in Guatemala.
will remember playing in the rain in Cape Coast, Ghana, jumping in
puddles and playing Frisbee as the heavens down poured. Maybe the rain will remind me of the time a few of us had to ride in the back of a pick-up truck going about 40mpr during a downpour in Guatemala.
I look forward to those smells and
sounds and experiences and all the memories that will come back to
life, but for now, I’ve got some more memories to make…
sounds and experiences and all the memories that will come back to
life, but for now, I’ve got some more memories to make…
Please leave your comments, as they are very encouraging! Hope you enjoyed this one!
