We stopped into one of the many antique shops and looked around. I enjoy antiques. The last time I visited this particular store was probably about seven years ago when my grandparents came to visit. As we walked down the street, a memory consumed me. It was of my grandpa running as fast as his 80 year old legs would take him, down the street with my son. I remember Nick laughing and I remember the joy I felt as I watched the two of them. Nick in his youth and my grandpa displaying his in his own glory.
It is an amazingly sweet memory for me to have.
As I was looking around I couldn't help but think of how each item must have had its own little memory. The history behind each article of clothing, each picture on the wall, every dish that sat in the display case, every toy that lined the shelves. If only antiques could talk...
We stood and browsed through the toys. My nephew was checking out a car, Nick picked up a toy gun, and I had my eyes fixed on this rusty old metal Tonka pickup truck. It was only $21 and I'm sure nothing extremely "special," but I fell in love with it.
We walked through the rest of the store yet I couldn't get my thoughts off of that truck. Stopping back at the counter, I picked it up again, studied it, and then sat it back down.
We walked out of the store and to the river bottoms. The entire time I could not get that silly little truck out of my mind. Why did it fascinate me so?
I didn't go back and purchase it, although the thought crossed my mind (and still does). Who would have thought that a 1960-something toy pick-up truck would have such an impact on me and consume my thoughts?
I think that we all have our own little things that "fixate" us. This particular item that I found stirred up some emotions that are healthy for me to think about.
My life has a lot in common with that toy truck. Throughout my years I have placed it in the hands of people that have knowingly and unknowingly abused me. There have been times when I've felt left in the rain and my exterior has rusted as a result. I've had my share of moments in which I have felt abandoned and alone. Knocked around, run through the mud, and lost in the shuffle.
However, I am blessed to have also been nurtured and cared for. I have watched my life recover from being left in the rain, have (figuratively) gone through a "detail" and invested in a new paint job, so to speak. I cherish the moments that I have alone and rather than feeling abandoned I feel grateful. The times I feel knocked around, run through the mud and lost in the shuffle are generally moments in which I consider reality checks. Subtle hints to shift my focus on things that truly matter rather than dwelling on that which I can't control.
My life doesn't carry a price tag, such as that little truck. And unlike the joy of a little child unwrapping his gift and eventually losing interest in it, leaving it outside to be forgotten; I am loved, just as I am, forever.
No one will be able to stand up against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.
-Joshua 1:5
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