One of my daughter’s favorite topics of conversation is “why trees die.” We discuss at length the many and various ways and reasons a tree can die. I have no idea why this is a recurring, often-requested dialogue, though perhaps it all started in a discussion of the movie Bambi. At any event, it is yet another bewildering reinforcement of the fact that my daughter is her own person, and not merely someone I am creating.
A year ago, we moved 600 miles across the country. Since a year is a very long time in the life of a three-and-a-half year old, it’s been interesting for me to see what Karissa remembers. The one thing that seems to have made the biggest impression from our former lives (along with our house and friends) is the candy store three blocks from our old house. Now, it’s true, Zimmerman’s is no ordinary candy store. A fourth-generation family-owned-and-operated gem, it’s a tiny-on-the-outside/enormous-on-the-inside wonderland. But still. One night—recently—I went into her room after putting her to bed to find out why she was sobbing. “I just can’t get our old candy store out of my mind.”
Two days ago I realized that the Bible verse memory cards we had started so gung-ho had been forgotten for a few weeks, partly (in my defence) due to two weeks of travel. Feeling guilty though, I promised to help her review her newest verse so she could surprise her daddy by saying it perfectly. “Which verse?” she asked. “The one about two masters,” I told her. Then, to my utter amazement, she proceeded to quote the entire verse word perfectly.
Now on the other hand, there are plenty of instances of not remembering—where her purple shoes are, whether she washed her hands, what her new friend’s name is, what the story was about in Sunday school (on the way home from church), etc. And there are stunning, jaw-dropping instances of remembering, such as hearing her “read” Green Eggs and Ham with many lines word-for-word correct, including even the inflection. (There is, however, and epic fail in that when she gets to the line “green eggs and ham” she inverts it and says “green ham and eggs.”)
Here’s the point: some stuff sticks. Amazingly. Remembering things from so long ago you’d never expect it. Remembering things with detail to rival a detective. Holding me to promises made before naps, made yesterday, made weeks ago.
But then, not everything sticks. No way. Not possible, not probable, not even remotely likely.
So what WILL stick? Is there a way for us to “select”? I wish I could answer that! But the take-home lesson is that we must live so that whatever DOES stick is something we will not be ashamed of. So that the things that do stick will help her draw near to God. We live, not private lives any longer, but constantly on the stage of our children’s wide-eyed wonder. Yes, much of our stay-at-home lives are private—to our family. But just as God is always watching, unseen, so our children are also watching—and seeing.
